Monday, December 25, 2006

Midnight Mass

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Alleluia! Christ is risen! Ooops, wrong holiday.

Leo (the former Catholic school schoolboy, making his first appearance at Mass in years) and I went to midnight Mass tonight at St. Stephen Martyr Catholic Church, just a few blocks from where we live. It was a lovely service, and the parish hosted everyone in the parish hall afterwards for strawberries and champagne.

The church was beautifully decorated. As we walked on the sidewalk to the entry, two of the priests were outside lighting candles in the flower beds. Inside the church, two large green wreaths decorated with four big red bows apiece and lots of miniature white lights flanked the crucifix on the "east" wall. The four corners of the sanctuary each contained a large, live Christmas tree covered in white lights. Red and pink poinsettias surrounded the altar and appeared on top of the low walls in the place that would be the altar rail in older churches. Out in the nave, hurricane lamps with red candles rested on brass stands positioned on every other pew on both sides all the way down the center pace.

Since the parish's organ is out of commission, they added a harpist and the Washington Symphonic Brass (a very good quintet) as the primary musical accompaniment tonight, with the organist playing the electronic piano as a sort of continuo. Everything sounded nice, and even the priest chanted well.

A half hour choral and harp prelude started at 11:30. The harpist began with a three movement Suite to "Santa Lucia" by Michael O'Hanlan. Everyone got to sing Irby (Once in royal David's city), then the harpist played another O'Hanlan work, Swedish Christmas Suite, followed by everyone singing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. Then, from Benjamin Britten's A Ceremony of Carols, they did movements IVb. Balulalow, VI. This little babe, and VII. Interlude. At this point, the choir had made its way back to the narthex, where they sang a starkly contemporary but very beautiful newish work by Rodney Lister called "Nativitie," then an Ave Maria setting by David Conte.

Because of the very live acoustics in the nave, the harp was loud! The Lister, sung a capella, was definitely my favorite choral work of the evening.

The Mass opened with a choral introit, "Let Us Rejoice in the Lord," sung to "Plainsong 2002." Later the choir would sing "A Child Is Born in Bethlehem" to Gregorian Mode I during the blessing of the créche. The communion motet was "Hodie Christus Natus Est," by Giovanni Gabrieli, accompanied by the brass. For a postlude, the ensembles played the Final Chorale from J.S. Bach's Christmas Oratorio.

The processional hymn was Adeste Fidelis with full brass accompaniment; the offertory was Mendelssohn (Hark! The Herald Angels Sing), communion included a responsorial hymn with an antiphon based on Greensleeves (What child is this?), and for the recessional was Antioch (Joy to the World). The psalm antiphon setting was "Today is born our Savior," by Richard Proulx.

For the Mass setting, they used the Liturgy of the Assembly of the Faithful for the Confiteor, the simple plainsong for the Kyrie, Calvert Schenk's Modal Mass for the Gloria, an adaptation of Tomas Luis de Victoria's "O Magnum Mysterium" for the Gospel Acclamation (alleluias and verses), Richard Proulx's Mass for the City for the Sanctus, Memorial Acclamation, and Great Amen; David Clark Isele's Holy Cross Mass for the Agnus Dei, and André Gouzes' "Non sum dignus."

Monsignor Filardi, the pastor, was the principal concelebrant. During his homily, he asked the question, do we need a savior? Later in his talk, he told us what had happened at the 7 p.m. Mass earlier tonight. Since it was the first Christmas Eve Mass, they got to put the Baby Jesus in the créche, so they started the Mass with the Baby sculpture up by the altar where everyone could see it. At the appropriate time, Fr. Gurnee, who was celebrating that Mass, got all the altar boys and people organized and off in a procession to the créche to place the sculpture in the manger, and when they were half way there, they realized they'd forgotten the Baby!

The only "interesting" thing that happened at our Mass was during communion, when one of the servers knocked a glass wine decanter off the altar, which shattered with quite a crash.

As is typical for Catholic parishes, there was a full range of fashion statements from the blue jeans and t-shirt set (some adults, too, not just kids) to very dressy suits and dresses. Lots of women were wearing bright red tops, including one of the ushers, who wore a red sequined top so sparkly I couldn't tell if she was catching the light or if she was independently illuminated. Most of the adult men were in suits and ties (which is unusual at this parish, at least on Sunday mornings). I saw a lot of furs on the women tonight, including a lot of fur hats. The hats weren't just cold weather gear; some of them were wearing what I'll call for lack of a better term fur chapel caps, as the fur was so small it couldn't possibly have been intended to keep the wearer's head warm. It was interesting to try to guess all of the different animal pelts sitting on women's heads.

Here's a picture of this year's créche in the Marian side chapel, complete with the forgotten Baby Jesus.

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A happy and blessed Christmastide to all of you!

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Advent IV

Just in from Sunday morning church. Went to St. Stephen's with maybe eighty or so others.....the church was so empty, we practically each had a whole pew to ourselves! Sunday is a commandment and Christmas is a holy day of obligation, so I don't know why people think they can kill two birds with one stone and just go tonight.

I've decided to coin a new term: Medium Mass. Now, "low Mass" is when the service is just said, there is no music, nothing is chanted, there is no incense, and there is virtually no "ceremonial;" "high Mass" includes organ, choir, cantor, incense, all of the liturgical movements, vestments, and ceremonial, and people leave having been inspired by a "special" and glorious religious experience (yeah, yeah, you priests be quiet.....I'm trying to explain to the Great Unwashed Masses, uh, er, I mean, Protestants, the differences between high and low, and they don't understand the glory and mysteries of the Mass, even the low ones). Under my new definition of "Medium Mass," the service is somewhere in between low and high: there is music for the congregation to sing such as opening, closing, and offertory hymns, some of the Mass setting such as the Gloria and Sanctus is sung, but the priest doesn't chant anything and no incense is used.

The university chaplain was our celebrant and homilist this morning. The choir doesn't do the early service, so this Mass was just cantored.

Processional hymn was Morning Song (The King shall come when morning dawns), offertory was Nun komm der Heiden Heiland (Savior of the nations come), and the recessional was Besancon (People look east the time is near). There was supposed to be some kind of congregational responsorial marching hymn at communion with a Wilcocks antiphon "I will praise your name for forever," but, as usual, no one but the cantoress sang it. This morning's psalm used an antiphon setting by the parish's organist-choirmaster.

The Mass setting was a hodge-podge of the de Victoria "O Magnum Mysterium" setting of the Gospel alleluia, Proulx Mass for the City setting of the Sanctus and consecration statements, and the Gregorian Agnus Dei. Since the organ is still broken, the organist was playing a little electronic keyboard and kept using the "piano" with weird blends of other instruments. Fortunately for midnight Mass tonight, they are importing an additional harpist and the Washington Symphonic Brass to help out with the accompaniments.

The priest talked about Advent and Christmas Eve in his homily, but it was rather preaching to the choir to tell the eighty people in the pews that they should go to both services. The most interesting thing the priest had to say is that they were having strawberries and champagne after midnight Mass tonight!

Now it's time to see what I have to cook still for tonight's dinner. Ciao!

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Happy Yule!

Happy Yule tonight to all of you who celebrate the winter solstice!

Where's there going to be a good bonfire in D.C. tonight?

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Tempest in a Teapot

The newspapers and television stations here in the Washington area, as well as many Internet news sources, have been sounding the warning that the sky is falling in, at least as it pertains to Christianity, more specifically the Episcopal Church in Virginia. Eight of the more conservative congregations in northern Virginia have voted not to be Episcopalians anymore. Well, as a cradle Episcopalian myself, let me assure you that these recent events are no big deal.

In reality, The Falls Church in Falls Church Va., and Truro Church in Fairfax, Va., have not been much of a part of the Diocese of Virginia for some time now. They've been withholding their parishes's diocesan assessment payments as a protest, not over events in Virginia or the local bishop, but in other dioceses of the church. Also somewhat out of the mainstream of the church, both of these parishes are very low church and evangelical in their beliefs, with their worship much more resembling Methodist services than Episcopalian. Perhaps most significant, though, I would guess that significantly more than half of the membership of these parishes consists of evangelical and fundamentalist converts to Episcopalianism—people who don't understand the tradition, doctrine, and discipline of the Church—who've joined these two parishes because of their social prestige.

Now, both of these parishes are fairly large, carrying with them the prestige of the Episcopal Church in the northern Virginia Washington suburbs and the history of pre-Revolution America, with Truro having been founded in 1732 and Falls Church in 1734; George Washington himself was a member of the vestry (congregational governing body) at Falls Church. In the grand scheme of things, though, I can not say that I will miss them or that their departure will have much of an impact on the Episcopal Church, and I'm actually rather happy to get rid of Truro and their troublesome minister who wanted a pointy hat so badly he had to go to Nigeria to get it.

Why these events have been national news, I do not know. The Episcopal Church is but a tiny presence in the United States, with just 2.3 million members, or about 0.77% of the national population. Compare that to the Romans Catholics, with 63.1 million members, the Baptists with 90 million members, or even the Methodists with 9 million members, and I just don't see why this has been headlines news around here. I suppose part of it has to do with the unique role and history of the Episcopal Church and Anglicanism in the nation's history.

The Episcopal Church is the remnant of the Church of England in the United States. As most of the early colonists in this country came from England, they were members of the Church of England, where the C of E was the official state religion. In the colonial era, the Church of England was even the official established religion in the colonies of Virginia, Massachusetts, New Jersey, lower New York, Maryland, South Carolina, North Carolina, and Georgia. During the Revolution, the C of E was "disestablished," as new clergy was required to swear allegiance to the British Crown, and the former Anglicans took on the denominational name of the "Episcopal Church."

The bulk of Episcopalians are on the east coast, however, since there was a critical shortage of clergy during and after the Revolution, and there were no Episcopal priests available to go with people moving west,. This critical clergy shortage was the primary motivator for C of E priest John Wesley to begin having ministers and even congregations call new ministers and ordain them to ministry, instead of going through the C of E with official ordination to the priesthood by a bishop. Wesley and his followers in "Methodism" conducted their first irregular ordinations in 1784, thus giving birth to what is today the Methodist Church and its offshoots.

After the Episcopal Church solved its clergy and bishop problems from 1784 to 1789, it began to continue its ministries and to thrive. The big difference, though, is that we began to see a socioeconomic shift, with the Episcopalians becoming the community leaders, professionals, and businessmen, while the working classes and the slaves tended towards more dynamic denominations such as the Methodists and the Anabaptists, and later the Pentecostals. From George Washington on, essentially all of the leaders of our new country were Episcopalians; even presidents George H. W. Bush is Episcopalian and George W. Bush was raised in the church before switching to the Methodism at the urging of his wife.

Even though we have no official state religion in the United States, we still have enough English history and ancestry here that the Episcopal Church has somehow been thrust into the role of being a pseudo-state religion, much as the C of E still is in the United Kingdom. The church across the park from the White House, St. John's Lafayette Square, is Episcopalian, and the Cathedral Church of Saints Peter and Paul, more commonly known as the National Cathedral, is also Episcopalian. Whenever the United States holds a state funeral or a national day of thanksgiving or remembrance, those services take place in the National Cathedral and "in the Episcopal manner." Thus, I suppose, we now can understand the influence, importance, and newsworthiness of happenings in the Episcopal Church both nationally and in Virginia.

The current strife, division, and extremism in the church is a parallel to the strife, division, and extremism that we see in national politics and our country as a whole. Much like we see the increasingly great polarization between Republican and Democrat, conservatives and liberals, we see divisions growing in the Episcopal Church between High Church (lots of ritual) and Low Church (virtually no ritual) and between social activist liberalism and social conservatism, with the hallmark of Anglicanism, the via media, being more and more abandoned. This is unfortunate, because the Anglican church since separating from Rome in 1534 has always accommodated a full range of practices and beliefs under the same umbrella. The Church of England has managed to exist and function with people within the church holding various forms of Anglo-Catholic, Puritan, Evangelical, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Unitarian beliefs, not to mention the vagaries of having everything done by the church approved by Parliament.

So, what's the problem with the handful of Virginia parishes leaving this month? Well, it's a long history that goes back to the 1960s. Back then, the church had a presiding bishop who was a social activist, pushing civil rights at a time when civil rights weren't such a given, especially in southern states like Virginia. He started the implementation of Equal Employment Opportunity and Affirmative Action in the church. A lot of Episcopalians were unhappy with all of this, and there was a small break off from the church that formed what has become today the splinter groups the Anglican Church of America and the Anglican Province of America.

The social turmoil of the '60s and '70s throughout the nation, plus the liturgical revisions coming from Rome as a result of Vatican II, caused the Episcopal Church to become more introspective and to review its operations and liturgies. The biggest change at this time was in 1970, when the church voted to allow women to be ordained as deacons (the first level of ordained clergy) in the church, and then in 1976, when it allowed women to be ordained as priests. There was a brief bubble of re-opposition in 1989, when the first female bishop was elected and consecrated. A lot of traditionalists had a hard time with the idea of female clergy—after all, we'd been raised to believe that the priest represented Jesus at the Last Supper during our communion services—and even more people left the church. Then the church introduced a new Book of Common Prayer in 1979, to replace the 1928 version. For some reason, the traditionalists just went crazy about how "awful" the new book was, which was something I never particularly understood; one would think that the 1928 book (the third book in the United States) had been personally dictated by God or something. The primary changes were moving the time the Gloria was said or sung from after communion to the beginning of the service after the Kyrie (in the Catholic position), and, while keeping liturgies in the traditional thees and thous of Jacobean English, it added a full set of alternative "Rite 2" liturgies in contemporary English. It also encouraged parishes to use the communion service (Holy Eucharist or Mass) as the primary worship service on Sundays instead of Morning Prayer or Matins. More of the anti-female clergy people used the new prayer book as yet another excuse to leave the church. Many of the current dissenting congregations have grumbled ever since.

Before the current "crisis," there were still three out of the 111 Episcopal Church dioceses that do not ordain women to the clergy. I have a lot of familiarity with one, the Diocese of Fort Worth. While Bishop Jack Iker and his "Ikerite" clergy followers are all rabidly and rather obnoxiously conservative, the people I know in the church pews in the Fort Worth area do not agree with their clergy's anti-woman stands. I also understand that one of the "obstinate" dioceses, a tiny diocese out in California, has been posturing itself to withdraw from the Episcopal Church. I suspect that they have the similar problem of the people not agreeing with the orthodoxy and egos of the bishop and clergy.

Do not think that all of these "defections" are major. In fact, they are just a tiny, but vocal percentage of the church as a whole. The vast majority of the over 7,000 Episcopal congregations are electing to stay, partially because they don't care about the theological changes, probably mostly because there is no prestige in being a member of a splinter Anglican church like there is in being an Episcopalian, and to some extent because some people actively believe that women and homosexuals are people and entitled to full rights and participation in the church. Most of the splinter congregations have since died out, with their former members drifting either to Methodism or back into the Episcopal Church, and those congregations still remaining are small and essentially socially insignificant.

The big complaint of the departing congregations is both a High Church vs. Low Church debate and a result of their evangelical-style beliefs denying homosexuals civil rights and the right to be ordained as ministers in the church. The first openly gay priest was ordained in 1989, then the big controversy occurred in 2003 when the Diocese of New Hampshire elected openly gay and gay-partnered Gene Robinson to be their bishop. Then earlier this year, the triennial General Convention of the church made a big surprise move when it elected a dark horse nominee, Katharine Jefferts-Shori, to be presiding bishop—the first female presiding bishop in the United States and the first female national primate in the entire Anglican Communion. She was installed here in Washington last month. Her election was the big spark for the current round of departures.

Individual Episcopalians and even congregations have the right to leave the church. After all, Anglicanism itself started when the British left the Roman Catholic Church in the 16th century. The Falls Church and Truro Church, and their "seed" churches (those other half dozen congregations that voted to leave), all have the right to leave. However, they should not expect to retain their church buildings and property. Canon law in the Episcopal Church has long been clear that property belongs to the diocese, not the individual parish. My ancestors and I did not make contributions to the Falls Church and Truro Church for them to become splinter groups; we gave our gifts to the churches so they could continue the work and mission of the Episcopal Church in Falls Church and Fairfax. It is that line of thinking that supports the diocesan position of property ownership. Would George Washington have wanted his financial support of the Falls Church to go to support the work of the Church of Nigeria instead of the Episcopal Church? I know I certainly don't.

This brings up another thorn in the process. The Most Rev'd Peter Akinola is a self-described "very low church evangelical" who happens to be archbishop and the primate of the Anglican Church of Nigeria. He has been like a child throwing a tantrum. He threatened to pull the Church of Nigeria out of the Anglican Communion back in 2003 when the Blair Government nominated openly gay priest Jeffrey John to become Bishop of Reading, a nomination Reading subsequently relinquished. He currently opposes American and Canadian participation in the Anglican Consultative Conference because of their positions on women and homosexuals in the church and in the clergy. He is the archbishop who threatened violence against Muslims in Nigeria. He says nothing about the cultural oppression of women in Nigeria. He supports laws in Nigeria that would criminalize same sex marriage, gay groups and organizations, and public gay gatherings or parades, mandating five year prison terms for violations. And, most problematic, he is violating the Anglican tradition of national churches staying out of the affairs of other national churches and not establishing congregations in other countries. He has signed a "concordat" with Episcopal Church splinter groups the Reformed Episcopal Church and the Anglican Province of America, neither of which are recognized by the Anglican Communion. And most recently, he has created the Convocation of Anglicans in North America, or CANA, as a new splinter group designed to siphon off more conservative Episcopal parishes and even to supplant the Episcopal Church in the United States.

To help in his CANA goals, earlier this fall Abp. Akinola consecrated the rector of Truro Church, the overly-ambitious Martyn Minns, as his missionary bishop for North America. The egomaniacal Akinola and the equally egomaniacal Minns are the main promoters of division today. Truro Church, the Falls Church, and their half dozen subsidiary congregations have all placed themselves under the canonical supervision of the Church of Nigeria, which, interestingly enough is not canonical.

What I find particularly amusing and ironic about these two churches wanting to become a part of the Church of Nigeria is their lily white, subtly racist congregations and their historic lack of outreach to the black and minority communities. Further, when the television reporters were at these parishes during the secession votes last Sunday, they took long shots of the congregation in the church, and I practically rolled on the floor laughing during the news when I spotted two people I know to be homosexuals in the congregation.

So, what will come of all of this? Nothing much, I think.

Certainly there will be litigation over the church properties, since the Diocese of Virginia's rightful claim to ownership is being challenged by the parishes. The splinter churches will go off on their own, becoming more and more low church, more and more "Methodist," and I predict that they will soon begin to hemorrhage members. Whether or not they ultimately dissolve into oblivion, I do not know.

The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Anglican Communion as a whole has to deal with its own crisis, as not just the American church, but the Canadian and New Zealand churches, have all taken positions supporting the civil rights of homosexuals and the ordination of women to the clergy. Modern, "western" cultures and countries will continue to join that progressiveness. At the same time, the African churches are becoming more and more conservative and more and more out of the Anglican mainstream. Canterbury is going to have to decide either to pull the Africans back into the fold or to sever ties with them, since their constant attempts to hold the entire worldwide church hostage can no longer be tolerated.

Meanwhile, I just want the Africans to keep their noses out of American church business. Life goes on. And, unfortunately, the politics of Truro, Falls Church, and Abp. Akinola do nothing to advance the work of the Episcopal Church or the Anglican Communion and just serve as yet another reason for "lukewarm Christianity" and agnosticism to grow in North America. Shame on them.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Music at St. John's




A Festival of Lessons and Carols
Saint John's Episcopal Church, Lafayette Square
Washington, District of Columbia

December 17, 2006



Choral Prelude: Benjamin Britten, A Hymn to the Virgin

Processional Carol: Irby, Once in royal David's city

Lesson 1: Genesis 3:8-15, 17-19
Carol: William Bradley Roberts, Adam Lay Ybounden, with Annette Anfinrud, soprano

Lesson 2: Isaiah 9:2, 6, 7
Congregational Carol: Veni, veni Emmanuel, O come, O come Emmanuel

Lesson 3: Micah 5:2-5a
Congregational Carol: Forest Green, O little town of Bethlehem

Lesson 4: Isaiah 7:10-15
Carol: Cantus organum/Michael Praetorius/Hugo Distler, Lo! How a Rose E'er Blooming

Lesson 5: Luke 1:26-35, 38
Congregational Carol: Gabriel's Message, The angel Gabriel from heaven came

Lesson 6: Luke 1:39-56
Carol: Herbert Howells, A Spotless Rose, with Michael Pahr, baritone

Lesson 7: Luke 2:1-7
Carol: Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck, Hodie Christus natus est

Lesson 8: John 1:1-14
Congregational Carol: God Rest You Merry, God rest you merry, gentlemen

Offertory Carol: George Frederic Handel, Rejoice Greatly from Messiah, Claire Kuttler, soprano soloist
Congregational Carol: Mendelssohn, Hark! The herald angels sing

Recessional Carol: Gloria, Angels we have heard on high

Postlude: Charles-Marie Widor, Toccata from Symphonie V



This morning Robert and I went to Lafayette Square for Christmas lessons and carols at St. John's. It's a little early, but since next Sunday is both Advent 4 and Christmas Eve, we forgive them. It's their adaptation of the traditional King's College, Cambridge, Service of Nine Lessons and Carols, which, for some reason at St. John's, is only eight lessons and carols. I sat in the balcony for the first time, and it provided a very nice place to see and hear the blend of the music.

The video above is the world premiere of the choirmaster's new setting of "Adam Lay Ybounden," which I thought was surprisingly pleasant and potentially useful for other choirs to sing (second performance-worthiness of most modern compositions is usually lacking), and that he just wrote last month especially for this service.

As I've previously mentioned, the choir is small (thirteen names are listed in the program), but they are very professional sounding and have, most of the time, a good blend (there was some soprano vibrato soaring out a few times today). They were particularly lovely when singing the Britten choral prelude, including an antiphonal quartet up in the balcony.

The organist played some very nice hymn accompaniments today, especially for The Angel Gabriel and God Rest Ye, Merry. He attempted the Widor Toccata for the postlude, which was fun, but a tad bit slow for my tastes (you organists stop cringing and put your daggers away!), but then, I like the Widor brisk.

After the postlude, they had a brief low Mass for the third or so of the congregation that cared to stay to receive Communion. When we went up to receive, I knelt at their rather tall altar rail, and as I lifted my hands to receive the Host, I leaned up against the rail and it inadvertently triggered the music button in my Christmas tie. Thus, we reverently ate Jesus to the tune of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town."

But at least no one can accuse me of not turning off my cell phone.

Friday, December 15, 2006

Holiday felicitations

Happy Hanukkah to all my Jewish friends and readers!!

The menorrah's filled with candles, but one of you is going to have to come over here and show me what to do with it. I'll make you some potato latkes, if you do!

I'm ready for my presents, now.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Advent at St. Paul's

Last weekend for Advent 1, several churches had Advent Lessons and Carols services. I ended up at the National Cathedral for theirs, reserving this weekend for the "encore performance" of St. Paul's K Street's Advent Procession with Lessons and Carols. So many people want to go hear St. Paul's service, they have to do two full services, both standing room only, with the second being yesterday for Advent 2.

The Advent service is based on the one created at King's College, Cambridge, in 1934, about a decade after King's originated the Christmas service of Nine Lessons and Carols (which you can hear broadcast on public radio stations every Christmas morning). St. Paul's service is sung by their combined choirs, with their adults, boys choir, and girls choir. I always hate it when they have to combine the boys and girls, because they each have very different sounds; I'm a great fan of the English boy choir sound, and putting girls in with it ruins the purity of the music.

The service went well. They did have a bit of a problem with the Ecce Dominus veniet at the beginning when the girls missed their entrance and then came in wrong, which then threw off another section, a big problem in polyphonic music, so they had to stop and start over. I imagine it's hard to keep all the sections together when they are spread out down each of the side aisles. They did a new hymn, Chance, that I hated (very hard for congregational singing), and an old hymn, Little Cornard, that was really too high for the congregation and jumped around (like a C up over an octave to E-flat). One particularly nice moment during the evening was the Taverner "Hymn to the Mother of God."

There was one of their usual receptions in the parish hall following the service, with cases and cases of wine (I noticed chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, merlot, and shiraz) and a big assortment of shrimp, cheeses and cheese dips, pates, miniature sandwiches, sweets, etc.

Here's the program:




An Advent Procession with Lessons and Carols
St. Paul's Episcopal Church (K Street)
Washington, District of Columbia

December 10, 2006


Matin Responsory: Palestrina, Aspiciens a longe
Choral Hymn: Puer nobis nascitur, Come, thou Redeemer of the earth
Invitatory: Richard Lloyd, Drop down, ye heavens, from above

First Lesson: Zechariah 2:10-13
Choral Carol: Otto Goldschmidt, A tender shoot hath started up
Hymn: Veni, veni, Emmanuel, O come, O come Emmanuel

Second Lesson: Isaiah 1:1-10
Motet: Praetorius, Ecce Dominus veniet
Hymn: Thornbury, Blessed be the God of Israel

Third Lesson: Isaiah 40:1-8
Motet: Guillaume Dufay, Ut queant laxis
Hymn: Merton, Hark! A thrilling voice is sounded

Fourth Lesson: Baruch 4:36—5:9
Hymn: Winchester New, On Jordan's bank the Baptist's cry
Anthem: Ernest Bullock, St. John Baptist
Motet: John Tavener, A Hymn to the Mother of God

Fifth Lesson: Luke 1:26-38
Hymn: Chance, Mary, how lovely
Motet: Patrick Hadley, I sing of a maiden

Sixth Lesson: Jeremiah 31:31-34
Hymn: Little Cornard, Hills of the north, rejoice
Anthem: Edward Elgar, Light out of darkness, from The Light of Life

Seventh Lesson: Revelation 21:5-7; 22:12-13, 20
Congregational Chorale: Wachet auf!, Wake, awake, for night is flying

Vesper Reponsory: Palestrina, Judae et Hierusalem
Hymn: Helmsley, Lo! He comes with clouds descending

Advent 2

wreath


Yesterday morning we walked over to St. John's Lafayette Square to go to church with our friend Max. We didn't get to sit with him, though. As it turned out, Max (who's older than me by nearly a decade) had to be an altar boy!

We walked in towards the end of the prelude. A tenor from the choir was singing "Comfort ye" and "Every valley shall be exhalted" from Messiah. Prior to the service, the rector said a prayer and they lighted the two candles in the Advent wreath. I was pleased to see that they were using Sarum blue for the candles in the wreath, the altar frontal, and the priests' stoles. St. John's is, alas, a rather low church parish, so the celebrant doesn't wear a chasuble.

Processional hymn was Valet will ich dir geben (the tune from the popular Palm Sunday hymn), sequence was Winchester New, presentation was Aurelia (with the words Our Father by whose servants), and the recessional was Ascension. The Psalm was a cantored plainsong chant. After the communion motet, the choir sang this hymn called "O come to my heart, Lord Jesus," asking the congregation to sing the refrain, but I don't think anybody did it. For the Mass setting, they only sang the Sanctus, using the Proulx A Community Mass.

presidentspewFor the offertory, the choir sang "Comfort, comfort ye my people," arranged by Claude Goudimel. The communion motet was "Prepare the way, O Zion," arranged by an unattributed composer based on the 14th century Swedish melody. For a small group, the choir always sounds surprisingly good.

The rector preached about preparing for Christmas and whether or not we needed a Messiah, saying that was the message and purpose of St. John the Baptist. Nephew Ryan thought he'd had too much coffee before Mass, but that's just Fr. León; I like a minister who doesn't dawdle.

One of their priestesses served as celebrant. Her sense of dignity and reverence was appalling. She didn't genuflect (or even bow) or do the Elevations during the consecration of the bread and wine; when it was time for the Fraction, she hurriedly raised the host and popped it in twain, then flung her arms out as though she were saying "Look what I did!"

Max, of course, took us around after the service and introduced us to tons of people. Ryan hadn't been to this particular church before, so we had to give him the 5¢ tour, and he was really excited about the President's Pew and the various needlepointed kneelers commemorating all the presidents since Abraham Lincoln. Ryan even posed for a picture, kneeling and trying to look pious, in the President's Pew.

After church, Max took us to Annie's for brunch.

Sunday, December 3, 2006

Oklahoma organist

doors


After Advent Lessons and Carols at the National Cathedral this evening, the cathedral presented John Daniel Schwandt in recital in their "Celebrity Organ Recital" series. Schwandt is the principal organ professor and director of the American Organ Institute at the University of Oklahoma in Norman. I've been anxious to meet him since he came to OU, since he has a very active vision as to the role of organists in modern music and how they need to be more than just church musicians. My friend John was in graduate school with Dr. Schwandt at Indiana University, too.

Once the service was over and the chancel cleared and rearranged, they allowed people to enter and sit in the Great Quire to listen to the concert. I knew better than that, because most visiting organists are enamoured of the enormous trompette-en-chamade over the high altar. For those unfamiliar with organs, the en-chamade is a division of long organ pipes with a trumpet-type bell at the end that are mounted horizontally instead of vertically; they are used for fanfares and festal occasions when one wants to blast a melody out over the full organ. Pipes like this in most churches are usually so loud that the congregation/audience jumps when they first hear it (I used to like to use it at the church where I used to work in Tulsa cause it made the babies cry).

Schwandt turned out to be a very good organist. His playing was crisp and precise, even in a lot of the difficult fast passages in some of the works. I also liked his registrations and the way he provided variety without making it sound like he was trying to demonstrate every sound on the organ. There were a couple of times his playing sounded out of alignment to me out in the nave, but they were notes played simultaneously from different ranks on the organ, so that may have been an illusion of sound due to the distance between pipes (keep in mind the cathedral is huge and the organ has over 10,650 pipes).

The recital opened with Marcel Dupré's transcription of J. S. Bach's Sinfonia from Cantata No. 29 "We Thank Thee, God." It's a familiar tune for those who listen to organ music now and then.

Next on the list was a set of Three Improvisations created by Schwandt. He said that they were going to be total improvisations and he hadn't pre-planned them. The first was done in the French classic style, the second in the German baroque style, and the third in the contemporary style. I absolutely loved the contemporary improvisation; think "Music from the Hearts of Space" on public radio, only with a melody. He then immediately segued into the French Romantic style with Alexandre Guilmant's March sur un Thème de Handel, Op. 15, No. 2.

The American entry in the recital was Calvin Hampton's Prayer and Alleluias from Three Pieces. Then concluding the formal part of the program was Maurice Dufuflé's tour-de-force, Prelude and Fugue on the name ALAIN, Op. 7.

Because the lesson and carols service delayed the start of the recital by half an hour, I had to slip out at that point. For an encore of sorts, Schwandt was going to solicit musical themes from the audience and play improvisations on them. As it was I just barely made it to the bus on time, having to run across the street to catch it as it pulled up to the stop.

I feel so devoted tonight. By going to lessons and carols and the recital, I missed the chance to play fan/paparazzo down at the Kennedy Center, where they were doing the Kennedy Center Honors show today (usually nationally broadcast Christmas week), and lots of people gather to catch a glimpse of the glitterati. The President and First Lady always go, plus all the dozens and dozens of celebrities. This year's honorees included Steven Spielberg, Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber, Dolly Parton, Zubin Mehta, and Smokey Robinson.

Oh, above and below are a couple of pictures I snapped of the exterior of the cathedral at night.

towers

Lessons and carols

Advent Lessons and Carols
The Cathedral Church of Saints Peter and Paul
"Washington National Cathedral"
Washington, D.C.
3 December 2006


wreath1Choral Prelude: Glorystar Children's Chorus, Potomac, Maryland
Organ Prelude: Bruce Neswick, Aria from "Partita on Winchester New"

Introit: Plainsong: O Sapientia
Opening Hymn: Veni, veni, Emmanuel

First Lesson: Isaiah 40:1-11
Anthem: Ralph Vaughn Williams, "This is the truth sent from above"
Hymn: Stuttgart

Second Lesson: Ezekiel 47:1-2, 6-12
Anthem: Herbert Howells, "A spotless Rose"
Hymn: Wachet auf

Third Lesson: Baruch 4:36 - 5:9
Anthem: arr, Barry Ferguson, Besançon Carol"
Hymn: Winchester New

Fourth Lesson: Mark 1:1-15
Anthem: Robert Parsons, Ave Maria

Fifth Lesson: Luke 1:26-38
Anthem: arr. Andrew Carter, Angelus ad Virginem

Recessional Hymn: Helmsley

Postlude: Max Reger, Fugue on "Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme," Op. 62, No. 2



Went to a lovely service of Advent lessons and carols this afternoon at the National Cathedral. The Cathedral Choir of Men and Girls sang from the chancel and a mixed group of adults called Cathedral Voices sang from the mid-nave. It was lovely to see all of the clergy and musicians in proper choir dress: cassock, surplice, academic hood, and tippets for the clergy.

I was excited to see my friend John singing in the choir this afternoon. We have to take him shopping, though: he was the only man in the choir not wearing a hood! Shame, shame!

They had moved the port-a-altar from the crossing platform, so we didn't have to deal with that.

There were a couple of odd things in the liturgy (which, of course, is not surprising; they really must get rid of that priestess who's been the liturgist of late). Mid-service, they had the cathedral choir process to a spot in the south transcept to sing an anthem, then process to the Advent wreath that was set up mid-nave to sing another anthem, then process back up. I've no idea why they did that or what purpose it served, especially since no clergy traveled with the choir to say collects at those two stations. During the final anthem, they lit the candles they had earlier distributed to each member of the congregation. Again, I'm not sure what the purpose of that was. As there were prayers of the people (some sappy modern creation written by the liturgist), some concluding prayers, and a recessional hymn to do, it was difficult to juggle the long, skinny candle with the service booklet and a hymnal. I saw people dripping wax all over the place.

All in all, though, it was a nice service. I was glad they only did five lessons instead of the traditional nine! I'd debated whether to go out to the cathedral or to stay in the neighborhood to see Advent Lessons and Carols at St. Paul's K Street; St. Paul's is repeating the service next Sunday evening, so I decided to go to their version next week.

Advent I

StMarys


Today is the First Sunday in Advent, so I decided to go to Mass this morning at St. Mary's Foggy Bottom. St. Mary's is one of the historically black churches in D.C., and just happens to be a block from the condo.

It's a nice little church that did a major restoration of their nave about a year ago. You can see on the far right above some plastic sheeting over the organ pipes; they are doing some roof repair over them that was generating a lot of dust and debris, so that's why the organ is temporarily not being used. They did have, however, the dreadfully out of tune electronic organ visible on the far left, so they still had suitable accompaniment for the service.

As you can see, they are using an inappropriately small, narrow table as a crossing altar. I hate it. I don't know why they don't just use the real altar, since it's not like it's a big church where the priest would be half a football field away from the congregation (as is the case at the National Cathedral). The celebrant can barely get everything on the table, and during communion, it's very cramped and crowded up there for the communicants. The other thing I don't like (which is the reason I only go here once a year) is the parish is way too friendly. When they pass the peace, they like to wander around the nave and greet as many people as possible, not just those in their immediate vicinities. And, after the service, they made announcements and introduce visitors, making them talk to explain who they are and where they're from. The priest-in-charge didn't remember me, but I deferred, saying that I'd been there before; thankfully, he didn't push. Otherwise, it's a nice little parish and it was liturgically adequate.

Hymns this morning were Merton for the processional, Bangor for the sequence, Richmond for the presentation, St. Flavian during post-communion ablutions, and Helmsley for the recessional. The Mass setting was the Deutsche Messe adaptation of the Schubert Mass. The choir did "From the Rising of the Sun" by F.A. Gore Ouseley for the offertory and "I Want to Be Ready," an arrangement of a spiritual, by R. Nathaniel Dett. I forgot what the sermon was about.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Upcoming publication

I just got an advance copy of an article in the National Catholic Reporter slated to be published on Friday that I found quite interesting, so I thought I'd share it.



NCRLOGO

Editorial
November 24, 2006


Not Bad for Melodrama


A year ago we lamented in this space the disappearance of the U.S. Catholic bishops. Well, we meant that in a metaphorical sense. They hadn’t actually disappeared; they had just become far less visible on the national scene than in an earlier era.

Here’s how we put it: “We are watching the disintegration of a once-great national church, the largest denomination in the United States, into regional groupings bent on avoiding the spotlight and the big issues.”

We noted that there was war and starvation everywhere; fresh clergy sex abuse reports out of Philadelphia, Los Angeles, and Spokane, Wash., to name a few; 20 percent of U.S. parishes without a pastor; a Congress poised to reduce health care coverage and food stamps; the United States accused of torture and keeping combatants in secret prisons; and so on. And the bishops had nothing to say. They would talk only to each other about internal church matters.

We are compelled, then, to report that the bishops have not entirely disappeared. For they gathered again, in Baltimore this year, and, continuing their trip inward, issued documents on such burning issues as birth control, ministry to persons with “a homosexual inclination,” and how to prepare to receive Communion. Now, none of these matters is unimportant. Don’t get the wrong impression. We’ve had documents aplenty about all of them before. And these topics -- unlike the war in Iraq, say, or what it means to have a president and vice president endorsing torture -- are even covered in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

So why again? Apparently the bishops feel that people just aren’t listening. If that’s their hunch, we’d agree. Why aren’t they listening? Let’s consider for starters the document on contraception. A lot of the U.S. bishops today might say there are a lot of bad, or at least ignorant, Catholics out there, Catholics influenced by the contraceptive culture, for instance, who no longer know good from evil.

Maybe they’re right. More likely, though, it’s because the teaching makes little sense, doesn’t match the experience of lay Catholics and tends to reduce all of human love to the act of breeding.

In short, the bishops aren’t terribly persuasive or clear when they talk about sex, and they tend to want to talk about sex a lot. To be sure, they say lots of lovely and lofty things about marital love, about how it completes people and cooperates with God’s plan and fills married lives with joy and happiness. You can want not to have children, say the bishops, you just can’t do anything “unnatural” about it. It’s a strange concept, like not wanting to die of heart disease while not doing anything “unnatural” about it.

They make the point that if every time a married couple makes love they are not open to having children, then they’re not giving “all” of themselves to each other. If you use birth control, say the bishops, and every single act is not open to having children, then “being responsible about sex simply means limiting its consequences -- avoiding disease and using contraceptives to prevent pregnancy.” Whew! So that’s it, eh?

It’s either be open to having kids or married sex is no more significant than an encounter with a prostitute. Such a view of marriage and sexuality and sexual intimacy can only have been written by people straining mightily to fit the mysteries, fullness and candidly human pleasure of sex into a schema that violently divides the human person into unrecognizable parts. There’s a reason 96 percent of Catholics have ignored the birth control teaching for decades. We doubt the new document will significantly change that percentage.

So it is with gays. Here again, church authorities try to fit together two wildly diverging themes. They go something like this: Homosexuals are “objectively disordered” (that’s about as bad as it humanly gets, in our understanding of things), but we love them and want them to be members of our community.

Only this time out, the bishops are not using the term homosexual “orientation” (a definite position) but homosexual “inclination” (a liking for something or a tendency toward). Sly, no? The inference to be drawn, we presume, is that someone inclined one way can just incline another way, whereas someone with an orientation is pretty much stuck there.

That science and human experience generally say otherwise is of little concern, apparently, though the bishops were clear they weren’t suggesting that homosexuals are required to change. This time, too, the bishops, while acknowledging that those with homosexual tendencies should seek supportive friendships, advise homosexuals to be quiet about their inclinations in church. “For some persons, revealing their homosexual tendencies to certain close friends, family members, a spiritual director, confessor, or members of a church support group may provide some spiritual and emotional help and aid them in their growth in Christian life. In the context of parish life, however, general public self-disclosures are not helpful and should not be encouraged.”

The next paragraph in the document, by the way, begins, “Sad to say, there are many persons with a homosexual inclination who feel alienated from the church.” You can’t make this stuff up.

It is difficult to figure out how to approach these documents. They are products of some realm so removed from the real lives of the faithful one has to wonder why any group of busy men administering a church would bother. They ignore science, human experience and the groups they attempt to characterize. The documents are not only embarrassing but insulting and degrading to those the bishops are charged to lead. The saddest thing is that the valuable insights the bishops have into the deficiencies and influences of the wider culture get buried.

Where is this all going?

No one’s come out with a program, but we’ll venture yet one more hunch. It has become apparent in recent years that there’s been an upsurge in historical ecclesiastical finery and other goods. We’ve seen more birettas (those funny three-peak hats with the fuzzy ball on top that come in different colors depending on clerical rank) and cassocks (the kind with real buttons, no zippers for the purists) and ecclesiastically correct color shoes and socks, lots of lacy surplices and even the capa magna (yards and yards of silk, a cape long enough that it has to be attended by two altar boys or seminarians, also in full regalia). In some places they’re even naming monsignors again.

It’s as if someone has discovered a props closet full of old stuff and they’re putting it out all over the stage. Bishops, pestered by the abuse scandal that they’ve avoided looking full in the face, find it easier to try to order others’ lives. They have found the things of a more settled time, a time when their authority wasn’t dependent on persuading or relating to other humans. It was enough to have the office and the clothing. Things worked. Dig a little deeper in the closet and bring out the Latin texts, bring back the old documents, bring back the days when homosexuals were quiet and told no one about who they essentially are. Someone even found a canopy under which the royally clad leader can process.

Now that’s order.

Now that’s the church.

Bring up the lights a little higher so all can see.

Before it all fades to irrelevance.

National Catholic Reporter, November 24, 2006

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Evensong

Braving the rain and the traffic, after our afternoon on the Mall, Matt and I headed over to St. Paul's K Street for Solemn Evensong and Benediction Sunday evening. Unfortunately, the boys were all over at the Kennedy Center singing in some Carmina Burana production, so instead of the Choir of Men and Boys, we just got the Choir of Men.

We'd planned to go to the solemn high mass at St. Paul's earlier in the day, but he and Jon (with whom he was staying) managed to talk all night long and not go to bed until after 5 a.m. Needless to say, a morning church service became less of a priority. So, we resolved to do Evensong; I think Matt was able to get his expected dose of incense.

The Mag and Nunc setting was Evening Service by living composer James Bassi (b. 1961). It was one of those modern works with all the bad clichés of modern choral music and nothing particularly interesting about it; the choir seemed to struggle with it from time to time, too, what with all the atonality, and I'd guess that they probably should have rehearsed it a bit a time or two instead of their usual sightreading of these sorts of things (it naturally speaks to the quality of the choir that they are able to sightread so much, but that was one of those things that probably needed a run-through in advance). The anthem was Sicut cervus desiderat by G.F. da Palestrina. Office hymn was Lucis Creator. The preces and responses were done congregationally to the familiar chants.

The organist played Fugue—Duo—Trio by Louis-Nicolas Clerambault for the prelude and Grand plein jeu, also by Clerambault, for the postlude.

After church we met up with Robert and Jon at Bistro D'Oc for a quick dinner.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Anthem and incense

During All Saints Day's solemn high mass at St. Paul's K Street, I videoed the anthem during the offertory and planned to post it here for you all to see in my post that night. For some reason, I couldn't get it to play once I uploaded it to my computer, and neither Ryan nor Jean could fix the file, either, but finally Svet came to our rescue and "zipped" the video on my camera's memory card and pulled it off that way; now it works. Thanks, Svet!

So, at long last, here is the Choir of St. Paul's Episcopal Church singing Edgar Bainton's "And I Saw a New Heaven." Forgive the cinematography; this was a "surreptitious" recording on my little point-and-click digital camera primarily to capture the sound, not to be a pretty picture. An added plus to the video is you get to watch the incensation of the altar in the traditional high church style.

About three minutes in to the video, the tenors introduce a new melodic theme whilst singing the words, "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes," that continues through the end of the anthem; I've long thought this was one of the most hauntingly beautiful melodies in the post-Anglican Revival musical literature.

Saturday, November 4, 2006

Primatial investiture

It was a beautiful day this morning for the investiture of the Most Rev'd Dr. Katharine Jeffers Schori as the 26th presiding bishop and primate of the Episcopal Church in the United States of America at the Washington National Cathedral. The cathedral—the sixth largest in the world—was full for this historic occasion with a congregation largely composed of middle-aged and older women who were clumping together in gaggles, "squee-ing," and jumping up and down like they were about to pee their pants.

For those not familiar with Episcopal Church politics, the election of ++Dr. Schori has been controversial in some corners of the national church where egomaniacal local bishops still reject the church's decision decades ago to allow the ordination of women as deacons, priests, and bishops. There is also some international controversy in the larger Anglican Communion (national churches descended from the Church of England), where many national churches, especially in Africa and Asia, do not ordain women, and they are already displeased with the U.S. church for allowing the ordination of open homosexuals to clerical office, especially the bishop of New Hampshire.

The Archbishop of Canterbury (the titular—though powerless outside of England—head of the Anglican Communion) didn't come. The Archbishop of York didn't come either. Instead, Lord Canterbury sent the Bishop of Lincoln as his emissary, and Lincoln read a rather milquetoast greeting of congratulation and support from Canterbury to the new P.B., though it was carefully crafted in terms acknowledging challenges ahead and not really saying she has his full support and blessing. Of course, I don't think many in the congregation noticed that; often, I think, I'm the only one who listens for such things.

I don't know why the seven or eight whiny bishops don't like the new female P.B. She was taller than her two male deacons, she's very slender and has very short hair, and her voice is deeper than some male clergy I know. But, there's no accounting for the opinions of the Ikerites.

One of the problems of national church gatherings and big services at the National Cathedral is that they always try to be too many things to too many people and they try to demonstrate the diversity and inclusivity of the national church by getting too many people and concepts involved. They end up fully satisfying no one and offending everyone. Thus, I walked into the event expecting the liturgy to be dreadful, and my expectations were fully met. Of course, liturgy at the National Cathedral has been particularly unfortunate since Sam Lloyd became dean a couple of years ago bringing his low church eccentricities and his staff liturgists, all women, revel in experimental liturgies and inclusive language. So, the service included all the things I hate, including non-standard music, liturgical dancers, kite tail-type banners on long, flexible sticks wizzing through the air, use of a crossing altar instead of the high altar, leavened loaves of bread for communion, multiple languages, applause during the service, and not a whiff of incense. I almost felt like we should all have raised our hands in the air and pretended we were all Pentecostals.

I think most disconcertingly for me today was the use of American Indian drummers and singers to open the entrance procession and then again for the procession of the P.B. from the west doors. Now, I'm Indian. I've gone to Indian traditional religious ceremonies, dances, and social pow-wows my whole life where we dance all afternoon and all evening around the drum, and I love that part of my life. But, there's a time and a place for drums and Indian songs, and in my mind it wasn't in the National Cathedral for a bishop investiture. It would be too strong to say that I was offended, but I had a very uncomfortable feeling as I heard the drum echoing in the cavern that is the cathedral.

New vestments were commissioned for this morning's ceremonies, and I presume they'll be worn again on the morrow for the enthronement (why they didn't do that today, I've no idea). They were hideous. The P.B. had a purple and lavender mitre with what I can only presume was a gold metallic "sun" off to one side. Rather than in a cope, she entered in a chasuble that looked like a water colorist had spilled his palatte. The top was purple and lavender, the sleeves were green, the bottom was cobalt blue, and it was just a messy splotch of contemporary color. I certainly hope that the predominant purple hue—the liturgical color for Lent and funerals—is not a bad omen. The P.B. had some kind of ruff around her neck that I couldn't tell if it was an attempt at a pallium, a collapsed chorister ruff, or some kind of wide, floppy top to a contemporary alb. The deacons and concelebrating clergy were attired in bright yellow—not gold—chasubles with double-wide yellow stoles. I guess the vestment designers have no concept of liturgical colors or traditional liturgical symbolism.

One of the things I didn't really understand about the liturgy was the inclusion of the renewal of baptismal vows and the asperging of the congregation, something that took up a substantial chunk of time in the middle of the service, and which is not a part of the traditional consecration service for bishops. They had the font on a platform in the middle of the nave. What's worse, when it was time for this part of the service, they had more streamers and the liturgical dancers carried large urns of water on their shoulders in procession to the font, looking like a line of pagan priestesses at an ancient Greek ceremony. For the sprinkling, instead of aspergellia, the dozen or so assisting clergy used branches of green plant (evergreens??).

One of the frequently featured musical acts was a gospel choir from Philadelphia and a jazzy-sounding combo to accompany them. They were pretty good as far as gospel choirs go. I didn't like that kind of music in this setting, though. The service music also included a couple of bad Catholic hymns, complete with guitar mass accompaniment. Gag.

The whole service was well choreographed, but choreographed almost as a stage show. Every time there was a procession, those liturgical dancers ran up and down the aisles waiving great big colorful flags; it was distracting and I felt like I was watching a flag team during half-time at a football game.

The good things, though, were some of the things that make the National Cathedral tolerable these days. It's a beautiful building. The acolytes, vergers, and ushers are well-trained. The organ is awe-inspiring. And the cathedral choirs are amazing, inspirational, and a blessing to all who hear them. Their "Hymn to the Mother of God" by John Tavener as the opening choral offerring of the procession was exquisite. The offertory anthem was a Magnificat setting by Brian Kelly that I found to be one of those unfortunate modern-to-be-modern, trite, contemporary works; the choir was redeemed with the communion motet by David Hogan, "Draw nigh and take the body of the Lord." They also did a lovely little ditty called "Vidi aquam" written by the cathedral's choirmaster Michael McCarthy used for the aforementioned procession to the baptistmal font.

There was a huge selection of organ and choral prelude music. For the postlude, the cathedral organist played an improvisation on "Christ Is Made the Sure Foundation" that had been sung as the P.B. was escorted to the crossing at the beginning of the service. A small brass ensemble and a tympanist joined the choir and organ for some hymns and for the Sanctus, but I really only heard them during the Sanctus (we common people got to sit in the rear of the nave, more than a football field's length from the crossing altar).

The P.B. preached a sermon-length homily on shalom. She's not a particularly engaging preacher; she was one of those essay-reader type speakers. Both her sermon and her liturgical celebration were marked by a very slow, steady pace that constantly had me restless and wanting to urge her on. I know the cathedral space is a cavern and has a six second sound delay, but she didn't need to speak that slowly. Naturally, she was the principal celebrant at the eucharist. There were a number of concelebrants, but the only ones I recognized were former presiding bishops Frank Griswold and Edmond Browning, and Dean Sam Lloyd. I expected Bishop Chane of D.C. to be a concelebrant (the National Cathedral is his cathedral) and he was listed in the program as a concelebrant, but I didn't think I saw him.

One of the neat things they did was during the procession of the House of Bishops (which started before the service), they seated two bishops on each side of the aisle on each row of chairs all the way up and down the center pace. Since the non-participating bishops were all vested in their red rochets, it made for a colorful and beautiful sight. I kept looking for my friends the Bishops of Oklahoma and Northwest Texas, but I never did see either of them.

Oh, I saw Madeleine Albright in the congregation (and no, I don't know her, so I didn't go say hi).

After the service, they had two big locations set up for receptions, one at the school and one at St. Alban's parish. I didn't go to either. There was plenty of activity on the cathedral close, so I just stood around and chatted on the grass. The service was very nearly two hours long....longer when you consider showing up an hour early and then needing 15-20 minutes to get out of the nave after the service. I was going to write this up when I got home about 2:30, but LJ was down today! So, I may have forgotten stuff, but, hey, this is all I can remember. :-)

All Saints and Vaughn-Williams

Wednesday was All Saints Day. To celebrate, I went to the procession and solemn mass at St. Paul's K Street. All Saints is a feast day that goes all the way back to the Fourth Century in the very earliest years of the Church.

I got to the church a little early so I could get a decent place to sit. St. Paul's has this tradition of inviting Ascension and St. Agnes over for All Saints, and then everybody goes over to Ascension and St. Agnes the next night for All Souls, so I knew it would be crowded and fill up fast, and it did. My friend Doug popped in unexpectedly and came and sat by me. Considering he's the head usher at St. Matthew's Cathedral, I was kind of surprised to see him at St. Paul's instead of being over there, but he, too, had come to see a friend in the choir.

They sang Sine Nomine for a formal procession around the nave. Once the clergy arrived at the font in the narthex, they had a quick collect and then sang Lasst uns erfreuen for the procession to get everyone situated and back up in the chancel and sanctuary. Other hymns were Rhuddlan as the sequence, Land of Rest during post-communion ablutions, and All Hallows for the recessional. All Hallows was a trip. It's one of those old late Victorian/Edwardian hymns no one really sings anymore, no doubt because of all the big, high Fs in the last line.

The mass setting was Mass in G minor for soli and double chorus by Ralph Vaughn-Williams. Between the mass setting and the first two hymns, it was quite the V-W festival! My friend John was the counter-tenor soloist, and his beautiful and ethereal voice just soared out....he was fabulous, as always. Of course, he should be good, since he did his music degrees at Indiana University. Supplementing the mass setting, they did plainsong chants for the alleluia, Nicene Creed, prayers of the people, Our Father, and antiphons for the introit, offertory, and communion. The Anglican chant for the psalm was by Thomas W. Hanforth.

The choir did one of my favorite anthems, "And I Saw a New Heaven and a New Earth" by Edgar L. Bainton as the offertory. This is another anthem to sing at my funeral! :-)

The organist played "Choral III in A Minor" by Cesàr Franck as the prelude and Placare Christe servulis, Op. 38, No. 16, by Marcel Dupré as the postlude.

The curate, Fr. Humphrey, was the celebrant. The headmaster of St. James School up in St. James, Md., was guest preacher. He seemed like a nice guy, but was rather a sleepy preacher; I found his talk rather more suited to the first mass of the academic year up at his school than to a mostly all adult congregation at a festal holy day service. I forgot what he was talking about other than comparing one of his school's non-resident founders who has been canonized as a saint to the relatively unknown first headmaster of the school who had a great impact on generations of boys and later became a bishop but who isn't "officially" a saint.

After Mass, there was a big reception in the parish hall with heavy hors d'oeuvres and cases and cases of Korbel champagne. I got to chat with John up there and met Doug's friend. The "party" was still going on a nine o'clock when I finally got tired and left.

Wednesday, November 1, 2006

Happy Hallowmas!

Happy All Saints Day!

For all of us who are still recovering from last night, today is what makes Hallowe'en possible.

All Saints Day is one of the great festivals of the Church, a holy day of obligation, and probably the third or fourth most important Christian festival (behind Easter and Christmas—the question is which is more important, All Saints or Ascension Day) in the Church's Kalendar. There are some great hymns and anthems associated with All Saints, and it's one of my favorite holy days. It's a shame that so many churches choose to ignore the celebration and they "transfer" it to a sort of second class observance on what they call "All Saints Sunday."

Anyway, as with all the big holy days, the Church traditionally started the observance on the previous evening, hence "Christmas Eve," "Easter Even," and "All Saints Even." All Saints Even? How do we get Hallowe'en out of that?

Blame the British. Instead of calling today All Saints Day, the Brits call it All Hallows Day or Hallowmas ("hallow" being a synonym for holy, sanctified, saintly, etc.). So, over there, they have All Hallows Even, or, more commonly, Hallows Even, which eventually metamorphosized into Hallowe'en.

I'm going to Mass tonight at St. Paul's K Street. It'll be exciting! My cute and talented friend John is one of the soloists for the Vaughn-Williams G-minor Mass they're doing during the service.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

The bell tower

church


Many people who have walked around the Dupont Circle have gone by a traditional gothic-looking church flying a big rainbow banner down the front of their facility. A lot of people have never been in the building, but they kind of think of it as the "gay church" in Dupont. Well, it isn't a "gay church." It's the Church of the Pilgrims, one of the "More Light" Presbyterian churches that, while still in the Presbyterian mainstream, is open and welcoming to all in the GLBT community.

Yesterday happened to be the day of their annual fall festival and art market. After our brunch and agricultural experiences, Robert and I Metroed over to Dupont for a look-see at the art, and most especially we were going so we could make the rare climb (they only do this once a year) to go up in their bell tower for spectacular views of Rock Creek Park and the fall foliage.

The tower was an adventure in and of itself.

Viewers first had to make their way inside the church and then up to their rear balcony and choir loft. Once there, while we waited to go up, we got to look around a bit. It's a pretty church on the inside with traditional gothic-themed architecture and some particularly beautiful stained glass windows. The organ console and many of the organ pipes were in the balcony, but they had the console closed up, so I couldn't examine the organ specifications.

Once the traffic cleared and we were allowed up, we began to climb this tight, small, cast iron, spiral staircase in an opening passage just wide enough to accommodate the staircase. The stairs were so narrow, I had to climb up sideways, and it seemed like a joint project for both feet and hands. Finally, we got to the top of the stairs and walked out onto the floor in the small tower.....only to find out that we had to climb up two more staircases! So, up we went again, up another narrow spiral staircase. On the next landing, I could see that Robert, who is both acrophobic and claustrophobic, was less than excited about this process, but we could see the light at the top of the tower shining down from the top of the final staircase, and we pressed onward. At last we made it up! The top of the tower was an open-air room with a double-height ceiling that allowed for tall, pointed arch window openings. And the view was lovely.


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Here's Robert, all the way on top of the bell tower!

Saturday, October 28, 2006

Seasonal user pic

Announcing my new Hallowe'en season user pic!

I've long sought something "appropriate" for the witching season, and finally found this picture to use as my user pic. It's a drawing depicting a jack-o'-lantern made from a big, purple turnip, with a few black bats flying in the background.

Turnip, you ask?

Carved vegetable lanterns during harvest season arise out of an old Irish legend. A man named Jack tricked the Devil and made a deal with him never to admit Jack into Hell. After Jack died, he didn't go to Heaven and since he'd made the agreement with the Devil not to be admitted there, he was forced to wander the Earth in quest of a final resting place. Jack carved one of his turnips and put a candle inside it so he would have a lantern on his journeys.

The first reference to "Jack-o'-Lantern" appeared in 1663, according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

Turnip jack-o'-lanterns are still popular in Ireland and Scotland today. Many vegetables are used including potatoes and rutabagas. When the tradition came to North America, the variety of squash we call pumpkins became a natural vegetable for these lanterns and the species has been bred over the years for large, hollow pumpkins.

Jack-o'-lanterns weren't originally a Hallowe'en thing, though. They were a general symbol of the harvest and of autumn. The vegetable lantern didn't get its Hallowe'en association until after the Civil War, and some sources date that as late as the early 20th century.

One of the advantages of turnip lanterns over pumpkin lanterns is portability. If one pulls the turnip up from the ground and keeps the green leaves intact, the turnip jack-o'-lanterns can easily be carried about by holding on to the leaves.

So, in honor of old tradition, this year's Hallowe'en user pic is the turnip jack-o'-lantern!

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Monday, October 16, 2006

Mozart and bagpipes

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It was a beautiful Sunday morning. I decided to walk to church, where I was meeting my friend Max, who'd invited me weeks before to come to this service because they were having a small orchestra to play a Mozart Mass setting. As I began to approach Lafayette Square (the park just immediately north of the White House), I heard the distinctive wails of a bagpipe band. As I got closer, there was a big crowd in the center east part of the square watching a band of pipers and drummers from the French Army. Not sure what the occasion was.

Anyway, as you can probably surmise, I was going to church at St. John's Lafayette Square, the "Church of the Presidents." It's an old, 1815-vintage cracker box-style church that's still fairly intact with original (uncomfortable) furnishings and design. The rather simple stained glass windows inside were designed by the artisans at Chartres Cathedral in France. This is the church where President Bush goes on those rare occasions he goes to church in D.C. They have valet parking here, but I've no idea where they take the cars. Max met me on the plaza outside the west doors before the service and began introducing me to folks....I do believe that he knows everybody....but he has been a member there for years.

It seems as though the parish has a Mozart service with special music and orchestra every fall. There was no particular holy day that Sunday, so it's just a tradition they have. This year, the Mass setting was the Missa brevis in F, K. 192, from 1774 when Mozart was but 18, and they used selections from Vesperae solennes de confessore, K. 339, for anthems. An orchestra of ten with organ continuo played the service. St. John's has a tiny choir with just a dozen singers, but they sound good in the space. In the east end of the church, the space narrows for the rather small and crowded sanctuary, with the northern corner filled with the organ pipe chamber and the southern corner for the organ and, on this Sunday, the orchestra. The choir sat in front of the organ pipes.

The service began with the Kyrie movement sung as a choral prelude. They would later sing the Gloria and the Sanctus/Benedictus in their proper places in the liturgy; the Agnus Dei was sung during communion, rather than prior as part of the liturgy. I noticed the conspicuous absence of the Credo, and they didn't even recite a creed during the service, even though the rubrics of the Book of Common Prayer direct that the Nicene Creed is to be said or sung on all Sundays. Hymns for the service were Creation for the processional, a very slow King's Weston as the sequence, two verses of Forest Green as a presentation hymn following the offertory, and Austria for the recessional. An Anglican chant by the parish's organist/choirmaster got sung for the Psalm; I wasn't sure if the congregation was supposed to sing along or not, so I sang it quietly. From the Solemn Vespers, Dixit Dominus was the offertory anthem and Laudate Dominum was the communion anthem. I thought the soprano soloist for the Laudate, Claire Kuttler, was particularly good. The postlude was Church Sonata in B-flat, K.212.

One of their priestesses was the principal celebrant, but the rector and an assisting priest were there as concelebrants, so I was able to take communion. The liturgy was a kind of weird, quasi-inclusive language version of Rite 2. The priestess didn't chant anything. She also didn't do the elevations and genuflections during the consecration, but I gather she's rather low church. She didn't wear a chasuble during the consecration and was vested only in alb and stole. There was a bit of a comical moment when she started to continue with the prayer of consecration after the Sanctus but before the Benedictus. Because of all the extra musicians, they couldn't use the altar rail, so they had to do the distribution of communion Catholic-style. Their communion wine was really sweet; I suspect they used Mogen David or something similarly hideous.

The rector, Father León, preached. He's always a good speaker. The gospel reading for the day was that troublesome "easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle" passage from St. Mark, so he had to preach on that topic, noting the irony of being told to sell everything and give the money to the poor when he was standing in a rich parish in the middle of a capital campaign. He explained how nine out of ten couples who came to him for counseling about marital problems had money issues at the root. He also made one analogy I thought was interesting: in this gospel passage, he says the opposite of rich is not poor, the opposite of rich is free.

After the service and the postlude, there was a lunch in the parish hall, but Max and I didn't stay, as we were headed out to brunch. More on that in another post.

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Choir and clergy during the Sanctus.

Friday, October 13, 2006

It's Friday the 13th!

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Have you ever wondered why Friday the 13th is considered to be an unlucky day?

It all dates back to medieval times in the early 14th century. This was a time of constant power feuds between kings and even the Catholic popes. The period of the Crusades had ended only a century before. European inhabitants had discovered the benefit of trade with Asia, particularly from the Middle East and the Orient, and demanded spices and goods. Traders and businessmen made regular trade journeys into the Middle East. Christianity, the dominant religion in Europe, encouraged believers to take pilgrimages to the Holy Land. The Middle East, though, was a very dangerous place full of robbers and other threats. Into that environment arose the Poor Knights of Christ, later becoming the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, also popularly known as the Knights Templar.

The Templars formed in the early 12th century with the purpose of defending the ruins of King Solomon's Temple and the City of Jerusalem, with that task extending somewhat into protecting pilgrims and others coming to Jerusalem. The Templars were the people who developed what was to become our modern banking system, as they arranged to take deposits and serve as a sort of medieval ATM as the wealthy traveled across Europe and the Near East. They became a very large, wealthy, and powerful order.

Early in the 14th century, the French king Philip IV needed cash to continue his war with England, found himself broke, and found himself heavily in debt to the Templars. With the help of Pope Clement V, a man Philip had personally politicked into the Vatican, Philip arranged for all Templars all across Europe to be simultaneously arrested though a secret plan with Vatican imprimatur so the Templars could be charged with trumped up charges, tortured, and forced into signing false confessions. Many of the Templars were burned at the stake for alleged heresies.

What the king and pope didn't count on, though, was that the Templars were very popular with the common people. They were saddened when they saw what was being done to their beloved Templars, and it was the common people who began the tradition of an unlucky day, the day when the Templars were all arrested, Friday, October 13, 1407.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Midnight musings

Why does society condemn suicide?

All the major world religions are very against suicide and consider it to be a grave offense against the deity(s). In many countries/states/jurisdictions, committing (or more accurately, attempting) suicide is illegal, although I suspect that's largely a codification of religious prohibitions. Psychiatrists will hospitalize/imprison a patient who is actively suicidal. And, even amongst those who profess not to be religious, whether they are agnostic or atheist or whatever, suicide is thought to be wrong and is something they try to prevent.

But why? What is wrong with someone who is tired of living arranging for his or her death? If you take away all religious arguments, what is the purpose of mandatory life suffering?

Sunday, October 1, 2006

Tonight's church

They've added instrumentals to the Sunday evening Mass at St. Stephen's. Tonight a violinist and a flutist played accompaniments for the hymns and Mass setting. It was an interesting touch, though on those rare occasions the congregation actually sang they drowned out the instrumental sound.

Hymns tonight were Leoni for the processional, Slane for the offertory, and Nettleton for the recessional. The communion song printed in the bulletin wasn't used and they did "You satisfy the hungry heart" instead (not that it mattered, since the congregation never sings the communion song). The Mass setting was a hodge-podge with How's Parish Communion Service for the Gloria, Proulx's A Community Mass for the Sanctus and Benedictus, Mass for the Parishes by Leo Nestor (2001) for the consecration, and Isele's Holy Cross Mass for the Agnus Dei. Nestor, incidentally, is the director of the sacred music graduate program at the Catholic University of America here in D.C.

Msgr. Filardi was celebrant and homilist. He spoke about Hell—the real "Gehenna" that was the trash dump outside the city walls of Jerusalem and how that land was originally used by the Canaanites to worship the Mesopotamian god Marduk by sacrificing human babies. Interestingly, Marduk was often depicted as a horned monster, which became the basis for our modern concept of the devil.

I was surprised to hear one of the petitions in the Prayers of the People being in support of the Jewish Yom Kippur holiday, which starts tonight, and general good wishes and blessings for the Jewish people.

Once again I got put to work. This time I had to count people in the pews on the left half of the church. I really must stop going to the evening service.

Holiday

To all my Jewish friends and readers, best wishes for a holy Yom Kippur.

Friday, September 29, 2006

Music

I want this sung as the offertory at my funeral. Crank up your volume and listen.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Happy New Year!

shofar


Happy Rosh Hashana to all my Jewish friends and readers!

May you have a sweet new year....with lots of apples and honey!

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Questions of religion and money

Every Sunday, millions of Americans go to services in churches around the country. With all of the dozens and dozens of denominations and their very different approaches to worship, there is one constant, one ritual common to all: the collection.

Churches can't operate without cash, so they all have some form of offertory, offering, collection, or passing the hat during their meetings and services. Some churches are even known to count the money and if the leader doesn't think there's enough, they'll do a second—or even third—collection. Now, I don't claim to have attended every different flavor of church; I have, however, gone to enough places and watched enough other denominations on television to be able to make a few little observations.

The first observation is that Protestant churches have a collection plate or a collection basket that they pass up and down the pews. Sometimes it starts in the front and makes its own way to the back and sometimes they have ushers at the ends of the pews who facilitate getting the plate or basket from row to row, but either way, the congregation handles the money (and sometimes people even "make change") as the plate or basket makes its way amongst the people.

The second observation is that in Catholic churches, they never pass a collection plate or basket. They all have baskets on long sticks that are handled by ushers or collectors who manipulate the sticks in a way that the basket goes by the donors so they can drop their contribution into the basket. Donors never touch the group offering or the container. As the ushers/collectors make their way from the front of the nave to the back, I often think that their basket and stick motion reminds me of farmers reaping their crop.

These observations lead me to some questions. Are Catholics less trustworthy than Protestants? Or are Catholics just too busy praying during the offertory to be bothered with passing collection plates? Why is there this difference between the way Protestants and Catholics handle their money collections?

Well, I don't really have an answer. But what prompted these musings was my experience at church this past Sunday evening. Now, I'm not even a member of the parish at St. Stephen's (or a Catholic, for that matter), but I guess they'd seen me there often enough that they recruited me to be one of the collectors during the offertory as I walked in the door. I got to wield a basket-on-a-stick!

As the cantoress sang a capella "Tell his praise in song and story" to Abbot's Leigh with a few members of the congregation murmuring along, I carried out my duties with three other people. I was a little bit embarrassed that I wasn't wearing a jacket and tie (it's the Episcopalian in me), but Catholics are very casual in church (some wear t-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops) and my aloha shirt and green trousers were probably the best dressed combination of any of the collectors.

Aside from that, it was a routine Mass. The Sunday evening service is usually as well attended as the 9 and 11 a.m. Masses, but for some reason, this parish treats it rather as a bastard step-child with no choir, organist, or "praise band," and the priests usually celebrate a low Mass. I find this awkward, since they still attempt to do some of the same hymns and service music as was done at the earlier Masses. The a capella thing just doesn't work for me in the absence of a trained choir to lead the worship: it ends up being a cantor/cantoress solo with a few congregants half-heartedly mumbling along.

In addition to the aforementioned offertory, the processional was Iste Confessor, communion was a responsorial "The Lord is my light and my salvation" by Willcock, and the recessional was an odd "The voice of God goes out through all the world" sung to National Hymn (a/k/a "God of our Fathers"). The Mass setting was the Proulx A Community Mass with the Memorial Acclamation from his Mass for the City and the Agnus Dei from Isele's Holy Cross Mass. All of the music was weak, since there was no accompaniment.

Couldn't really figure out what the homily was about, so I didn't get any quotes.

Sunday, September 3, 2006

Sunday Mass

The new GWU students are moving in to the dorms this weekend and there were dozens of new freshmen and their parents at Mass at St. Stephen's this morning. I suppose by design, the university chaplain (who's also posted on staff at St. Stephen) was the celebrant for the 11 o'clock, so naturally, given the high percentage of government, public affairs, and international affairs students at GW, he devoted his homily to talking about public responsibility and the role of the "righteous" and the Catholic/Christian public servant. Twas one of his better homilies, since he's wont to be too academic and to wander in his thoughts.

The organ is still broken, so the organist is playing an electronic keyboard. He had it cranked today, though, and his improvisations between hymn verses were quite inspiring and entertaining. Speaking of which, the hymns were Leoni for the processional, Sharpthorne for the offertory, and Rustington for the recessional. They did a responsorial "My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord, my God" during communion. Also during communion, the summer schola (a quartet, including the cantoress) sang "Sing praise to God who reigns above" by Don McAfee as a motet. The Mass setting was a confusing hodgepodge with each element being pulled from a completely different Mass setting.

After communion, some little lady went up and knelt in the middle of the aisle just below the chancel step and stayed there. The departing altar party had to walk around her, and she was still kneeling there when I left the church. I've no idea what she was doing. Catholicism does end up with a lot of odd expressions of faith when they blend the Church with local religions in the Third World.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Outside the cathedral

Here are some pictures Ryan and I took yesterday in the cathedral gardens. For your listening enjoyment, here's a little YouTube clip of the cathedral carillon (bells) ringing after Mass. Once again, my purpose was to capture the sound, not to give you a pretty video to watch, so please be kind! :-) Also, sorry about some of the wind noise that got captured during the recording. Now you can listen whilst you look!


Carillon music


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A butterfly sups on a yellow rose in the Bishop's Garden.

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Flowers in the shadow of the towers

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A rose in the garden.

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A bride and groom walk through the gardens.

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I found a bench in the gardens.

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I caught Ryan in the flower beds taking pictures!

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Ryan setting up a shot.

The West Towers as seen from the rose garden.
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The Great Tower behind purple flowers

Views from the cathedral

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Empty nave after Mass

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The West Towers

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A flying buttress

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The Great Tower

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The Bethlehem Chapel

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Resurrection Chapel

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Tomb of a bishop

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The old baptistry, now the Herb Cottage

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Entry to the Bishop's Garden

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Medieval English font in the Bishop's Garden

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Old water fountain

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Statue of "The Prodigal Son" in the Bishop's Garden