Lyric Baritone is a Christian and former church musician now residing in Washington, D.C. Like many other people, he is on a continual quest for religious wisdom and grace, and he does not claim to have any of the answers.
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
A butterfly sups on a yellow rose in the Bishop's Garden.
Ryan and I went to the National Cathedral this morning with the idea of going to church, going to brunch, and then coming back to the cathedral for their gargoyle tour. Well, Ryan changed his mind and decided he didn't want to spend money on brunch, so we wandered around the cathedral and the cathedral close after the (previously reported) service taking videos and pictures.
Ryan recorded part of the organ postlude from the aisle by our seats. I wandered back to the chancel and recorded a bit from there (I'm not a filmmaker like Ryan, so my purpose was capturing the organ sound for you, not to give you a pretty picture to watch). I have the two YouTube videos below. Also, here are a few photos we took from around the cathedral.
Okay, first, let me explain the picture up above. You're looking at the rose window and clerestory windows over the balcony in the north transcept.
Now, while you're looking at pictures, you can listen to some music. There are two video files here, both short snippets of various parts of the organ postlude following today's service. The organist was playing Con moto maestoso from Sonata III in A Major by Felix Mendelssohn. I'm not sure who the organist was; I saw the cathedral's organist turning pages for him, and I suspect from his youth that he's the cathedral organist's student. Ryan filmed the first clip from the nave. His is somewhat artful. I, on the other hand, went back to the east end of the chancel and recorded with the goal of capturing the music and not trying to do anything creative with the video, so just "listen" to mine.
And now for the photographs.
This is an oddly colored photo (from the flash in a dark chancel) of the organ pipes along the north wall of the chancel. After the postlude, I went downstairs to the Bethlehem Chapel, where Ryan took this picture of me:
On the left below is the lecturn from which the Bible lessons are read. I thought the flowers were pretty. On the right is Canterbury pulpit, which is much bigger than it looks. One interesting bit of trivial about the pulpit is that on the Sunday prior to his assassination, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., gave his last sermon here.
While we were wandering around the chancel, I had an interesting chance encounter. A guy from Connecticut came up to me and said I looked familiar. We chatted a bit and he asked if I was on television or if I was a senator or something! It turns out he's a fan of The West Wing, so I can only imagine that he's one of those people who watches the Tivo or DVDs over and over and over and that's why he recognized my face.
One of the big tourist attractions at the National Cathedral is the stained glass "Space Window" on the south wall of the clerestory. In the center of the top circle (you can't really see it very well in this photo) is a slice of real moon rock brought back from the moon by astronauts.
There are carvings all over the cathedral, inside and out. I didn't take any gargoyle pictures since we were supposed to be taking a gargoyle tour later, but we did catch this one bas-relief carving of the Holy Family on one of the walls.
There will be another post (possibly tomorrow) with a video recording of the carillon and some photos from the Bishop's garden. And, here is a final shot of me in front of the sanctuary.
The National Cathedral has a new altar platform. It is pretty, though it distresses me a bit that they are spending that kind of money on a "permanent" platform for what's supposed to be a temporary altar set up in the crossing (the area between the congregation and the choir); after all, it's not like they don't have a very nice, functional High Altar up in the sanctuary. Today was the first day they used the new thing.
For those of you who aren't Episcopalian or Catholic, for millennia, the altar (or communion table) was located in the far end of the church up against the wall and the minister faced the altar (same direction as the congregation) while praying over the communion bread and wine. After Vatican II in the 1960s, both Catholics and Anglicans began pulling their altars out from the wall a bit and ministers began standing on the wrong side of the altar facing the congregation during the communion prayers; this is unfortunate because it changed the symbolism of the minister being a chief worshipper co-equal with the congregation to the symbolism of the minister presiding over the service.
A few churches (such as the National Cathedral) took this change a step further by setting up temporary altars during contemporary style services in the crossing to bring the altar "closer to the people," but this is something that started with some of the same aging ministers who used to tell my generation that they were making church "more relevant" to us youth by making us sing really, really bad guitar folk music during worship instead of proper, dignified hymns and chants. LOL, I remember when my friends and I were going to the diocesan camp, we'd often ask if a certain guitar-playing priest was going to be at a session, cause if he was, we didn't want to go and have to put up with his awful music! But I digress....
Ryan and I went to the 11 o'clock Mass this morning at the Cathedral Church of SS. Peter and Paul, also known as the the Washington National Cathedral. He'd been in the cathedral once before for a tour when he was thirteen years old and in town with a school tour group, but he had limited memory of what all he saw and he'd never gotten to attend a service here.
Our bus didn't get us to Mount St. Alban until about quarter til, but the church felt nearly deserted when we walked in, and we were able to walk down the center aisle to find a seat in one of the very front rows in the nave. Even by the time the service started, attendance was surprisingly scant; practically everyone was seated in the front half of the nave, and it was far from being full, even if you'd moved over the handful of people in the back half of the nave and those few in the transcepts.
For the prelude, the organist played Scherzetto Op. 31 by Louis Vierne and Adagio in E by Frank Bridge. The Cathedral Singers, an adult group of fourteen mixed voices, sang an a capella introit from the narthex, "Draw night and take the body of the Lord," by David Hogan, and sounded wonderful. It always impresses me that the choirs here sing without amplification.
Hymns were St. Anne for the procession, St. Agnes for the sequence, Rockingham for a presentation acclamation after the offertory, Carlisle with the odd words "O God of gentle strength" during post-communion (and some idiot in the front rows jumped up to stand and everyone else followed suit), and Michael for the recessional.
The mass setting was odd. Of course, a lot of this has to do with the young priestess in charge of the liturgy for the cathedral (they either need to educate her or replace her), who created a Rite 2 service with non-standard words and quasi-inclusive language and who has been doing weird things this year with the service music, such as this morning where we sang verse four of Laudate Dominum (with inclusive language) in lieu of the Gloria and an awkward recasting of the Sanctus and Benedictus to the tune Land of Rest ("Jerusalem my happy home"). Naturally, with these contemporary liturgists, there is no Kyrie and no Agnus Dei.
A priestess who reminded me of a realtor (especially during communion when she was bossing around an usher to make him move the chalice bearers from their usual spot to a place she preferred) served as celebrant, and she didn't chant any of the service, and made only the bare minimum liturgical gestures during the consecration. Fortunately, one of the concelebrants was male, so I was able to take communion today.
One of the diocesan canons preached way too long—nearly twenty minutes—and basically kept talking about a bunch of poor African villagers bartering for a rat. Somehow that was supposed to tie in with his announced topic of why we should eat communion bread as the Body of Christ.
The highlight of this morning's Mass, as always, was the choir and organ. After their fine introit, the choir did "Draw us in the spirit's tether" by Harold Friedell for the offertory and a starkly modern "Surely thou hast tasted that the Lord is good" by Bernard Rose as a communion motet.
I'm going to try something new tonight: I'm going to try to embed a video in this post. During the offertory, I made an illicit, clandestine recording of the choir with my little point-and-click digital camera so you could hear them sing the Friedell. Keep in mind two things: 1) this isn't really a video for you to "watch" since I didn't want the ushers to see me recording and 2) you're hearing the ambient cathedral sound of an unmiked choir.
Since it's such a hassle taking public transportation to get to and from the cathedral, I don't really get up there as often as I would like. It's probably better for me to stay downtown with the more traditional St. John's Lafayette Square and St. Paul's K Street, though, since I despair of the experimental and liberal liturgies they come up with up here. Of course, cathedrals often have the curse of having to be too many things to too many people, and the National Cathedral has it twice as hard since they have a Congressional mandate to be interdenominational. The problem as I see it, though, is that the new dean is trying to make the National Cathedral too "Protestant" to appeal to one-time visitors from other faith traditions, rather than showing them the glory and tradition of true Anglican worship.
For example, in addition to him letting the young liturgist experiment too much and use inclusive language, he starts the service by standing up front and bringing greetings and making announcements before walking all the way to the back of the church for the processional. He lets the worship be extremely low church, with nothing chanted and with the congregation standing for prayers instead of kneeling, even for the confession and the consecration! He's also done something I hate: he has pulled the choir out of the choir stalls in the chancel and made them sit in chairs arranged behind the crossing altar in the congregationalist style, and that location not only destroys our long-standing Anglican tradition of making the altar rather than the choir the focal point of the church, it does not help the choir acoustically and we lose the magic of that etherial sound drifting out over the nave from the chancel.
I guess one of the things that struck me about the changes in cathedral liturgy and the surprisingly low attendance is when, as Ryan and I were walking around the building taking pictures after the service, I came upon a credence table with a ciborium brimming with consecrated but uneaten communion bread. I guess they were expecting a bigger crowd. The dean's not going to find it, however, from a bunch of curious Methodist tourists.
This summer Ryan came to Washington so he could get out of Hanover for a while and also take the one extra class he needs so he can graduate next June (this is what happens when one drops too many classes). Consequently, he found an interesting evening film history class at the Catholic University of America during their second summer session, and he actually managed to pass it! Now, before he leaves D.C. next Thursday, he wanted to head over to the campus to take some pictures of the basilica and to pick up a couple of souvenirs from the campus bookstore. Ryan, Robert, and I Metroed up to Brookland yesterday to CUA.
We went first to the basilica. The basilica is this enormous Byzantine-Romanesque style church built around the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. They say it's the largest Catholic church in the country, and it really is a big barn of a place. The towering ceilings are filled with mosaic-covered domes and, in traditional basilica fashion, there are gorgeous, small chapels all along the side aisles, as well as in the undercroft (where they also have a cafeteria and two book stores, one of which has a huge collection of sacred music CDs).
It just so happened that we got to the basilica about the time people were starting to gather for a late afternoon Mass. I took a look at the sanctuary and saw that they were preparing for a crowd, so I asked security what was going on. It turned out to be the freshman orientation Mass for all the new incoming CUA students. Now, Ryan showed up in D.C. mid-summer for his class and he missed all the orientation meetings and parties, so I thought it would be fun for us all to go to Mass. Robert is an Episcopalian, so he's used to Mass (and this was his first opportunity to eat Catholic Jesus!), and Ryan the recovering Baptist has been going with me to Catholic and Episcopal services this summer and seems to like Episcopalianism, so this was a good experience for him, as well. Fortunately, we were there early enough to get a seat in the crossing, because fifteen minutes after I took the picture above, it was standing room only. By the way, when I snapped this photo, I was standing at the back of the transcept with most of the nave behind me.
The president of CUA served as celebrant (and who nodded off during the homily), and the campus chaplain was homilist (he announced in his sermon that he wished the network would cancel Laguna Beach and he thought all the freshmen should friend one another on Facebook). The hymns were Abbot's Leigh ("God is here! As we are his people") for the processional and Ellacombe ("Go make of all disciples") for the recessional. Maudlin contemporary Catholic hymns were used for the offertory ("We are a pilgrim people") and during communion ("Those who were in the dark" and "Now in this banquet"), but the congregation didn't really sing along for them (what's new?). Mass setting was Haugen's Mass of Creation sung too slowly, with no Kyrie or Gloria and with a plainsong Agnus Dei. The organ sounded nice during the prelude and hymns, but as big as that thing is and as live as the acoustic in the building is, it's hard not to sound good. I should go meet their organist someday—he always plays very well.
We cut out right after communion, since they were going to have some kind of blessing liturgy for the new freshmen, and that gave us about a thirty minute headstart in the bookstore before it was invaded with students. I was disappointed that didn't want us to bless him! LOL
The picture below is during the pre-consecration ablutions.
Since I couldn't go to Mass this morning, Ryan actually suggested that we go to Solemn Evensong and Benediction at St. Paul's K Street this evening after I got home. And—there's more!—he was actually ready on time and we weren't late to church for a change! Tonight was the first time I've been able to hear a complete prelude all summer. :::hugs, Ry Ry:::
Since the boys are off for the summer, tonight's Evensong was sung by the gentlemen of the choir. It was Charles Wood day: they did his a capella Evening Service in E for the Mag and Nunc and then a lovely job with his anthem, "View me, Lord." The traditional preces and responses were sung congregationally, as was an Anglican chant for the psalm. They picked Dickinson College for the office hymn, and then during Benediction, they did O salutaris hostia to Hereford and Tantum ergo Sacramentum to Oriel. There was a middle aged black priest I'd not ever seen before who served as officiant and he was uncredited in the service bulletin, so I don't know who is is; at least he could chant nicely.
One funny thing happened. During the chanting of the collect for the day, the server turned the page in the middle of the collect and there was nothing on the other side! Then he flipped back and forth a couple of times while the officiant stood there mid-sentence in awkward silence. Finally, I guess they gave up looking for the rest of the words so the officiant just sang "through Jesus Christ our Lord" and moved on. LOL
It's always interesting exposing Ryan to high church liturgy and to correct theology uncorrupted by Calvinist thought. He's still having a hard time comprehending the idea of communion not being a simple memorial during which one eats stale bread and a little cup of grape juice but rather being the act of receiving spiritual grace through eating Jesus Himself in the earthly forms of bread and wine. I guess transsubstantiation wasn't in the Baptist Vacation Bible School curriculum. Tonight was his first experience with not only Evensong, but with Benediction and Adoration of the Host. It was also the first time he'd ever been blessed with a monstrance containing Jesus. I certainly don't expect Ryan to become a theologian or even a priest, but I do hope that through the Church he will be able to find the peace and love of God.
I forgot to mention the reception they had at St. Paul's after Mass last night. It really was a typical spread for them. I believe their parish kitchen must grow deviled eggs and boiled shrimp on trees, because they are always swimming with them.
For libations, they were serving an iced tea punch, Pelegrino water, and two kinds of sparkling wine, a Frexinet Cordon Negro cava and a domestic wine by one of the famous French champagne houses the name of which escapes me right now.
There were a number of other interesting things, including several very differently and artistically decorated salmon mousses in various fish molds. I also enjoyed some cream cheese covered with a fig preserve and walnut compote and some lemony hummus with pita chips, while Ryan liked the baked brie en croute.
And there appeared a great wonder in heaven; a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars.
—Revelations 12:1
We had a splendid solemn high Mass last night in commemoration of the Feast of St. Mary the Virgin, also known as the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, at St. Paul's K Street, followed by a reception in the parish hall.
The rector served as celebrant with a special guest, the Rev'd Anthony Noble, rector of All Saints' in San Diego, as preacher.
The Assumption is a feast in honor of Mary, mother of Jesus. Whilst high church protestants are happy to observe the day as merely another saint's day, "those who are less timid" (to quote the rector) join in the Roman Catholic celebration of the day as the commemoration of the assumption of Mary, meaning that instead of dying, Mary was "assumed body and soul directly into heavenly glory." This doctrine has been a part of the Church since the earliest centuries of Christianity, and was a major subject of art especially during the Renaissance. In the Orthodox tradition, the feast is known as the Dormition of the Theotokos (the falling asleep of the Mother of God). Many Protestants, however, reject the doctrine (as they do most tradition of the early Church) because it is not, in their minds, literally spelled out in the New Testament.
In fact, it was to his concept that Fr. Noble said in his sermon that many "Protestants find the Assumption to be an assumption." He pointed out, though, that unlike the other saints, there is no tomb for Mary and there were no relics—a surprising thing, given how important Mary was in giving birth to the source of an entire religion. Perhaps, he submitted, what Protestants believe is that "Mary went to another planet and married Ron Hubbard and had children who populated Queens." Where is Tom Cruise when we need him?
The Mass setting was Missa Sanctae Crucis, Op. 151 by Josef Rheinberger, sung a capella by the choir. Rheinberger continues to be unusually popular in the D.C. and East Coast areas, and I really don't know why. They did an Anglican chant by Edgar F. Day (1891—1983) for the psalm. Anyway, I didn't recognize the organist/choirmaster last night, so I guess the parish's organist and assistant are both on vacation. I was thinking the choir was sounding unusually ragged last night and that the female cantor who was intoning the Sentences was dreadfully flat (not to mention the sub-deacon chanting the second lesson, who was dreadfully sharp), but perhaps my ear was off, since I heard the pitchpipe a couple of times and thought it sounded flat, too. Mass setting and psalm aside, the choir did the ever-popular these days Robert Parsons (c. 1528—1572) "Ave Maria" at the offertory, and I thought it sounded quite lovely.
The hymns were unusual. In fact, the only "real" Episcopal hymn they sang was Parry's Rustington ("Sing we of the blessed Mother") for the sequence. The processional was Salve Regina ("Hail holy Queen enthroned above"), a Catholic hymn which will be forever associated in my mind with the Whoopi Goldberg movie Sister Act. During post-communion ablutions, they did Pleading Savior to a set of words ("Sing of Mary, pure and lowly") I found as an alternative in the 1940 hymnal which are in the 1982 book to the tune Raquel, but in either case with two supplemental verses. The recessional hymn was one I didn't know at all, Daily, Daily ("Ye who own the faith of Jesus"), and which I couldn't find in any of my Episcopal or Methodist hymnals. It has a marching, syncopated rhythm I associate with a lot of the Victorian congregationalist gospel hymns. I did finally locate the hymn this morning in a private hymnal from the Diocese of Chicago called Cantate Domino, published in 1979.
There was an interesting insert in the service bulletin, a "notice of special parish meeting," where they are planning next month to amend their parish by-laws. That sort of thing is unremarkable in and of itself, but I actually read the text of what they were changing. In their existing by-laws, in order for a parishioner to be a "qualified voter" at parish meetings, they have to have paid their annual financial pledge to the church in full during the preceding calendar year and have a current pledge in the current year. The amendment was allowing them to accept as qualified voters those who had "made at least a partial payment" on the preceding year's pledge. Nevertheless, I found the financial requirement for voting in this parish interesting.
The members of the parish were unusually friendly last night. After the service, I stepped outside and away from the doors to check my cell phone and make a call, and one woman seemed quite alarmed that I might not be going to the reception in the parish hall. Once I got up to the reception, I actually had five people spontaneously come up and talk to me (which is more than the total number of people who've talked to me in the nearly two years I've attended this church!), three of whom introduced me to other people. I do believe that Hell must have frozen over.
Oh, and I was absolutely shocked to see at least fourteen men in church who weren't wearing a jacket and tie!
Here's a question for you ladies who are fashion experts. While I love the tradition of ladies wearing hats and gloves to church, I've always made a distinction between the big brimmed and often floppy "day hats" and the tiny, elegant, brimless "evening hats." I saw a couple of "day hats" last night at Mass and initially was appalled; then, I considered the fact that it was still daylight out. So, if a lady attends a service starting at 6:30 p.m. and ending at 8:00 p.m. during the summertime when it is still daylight at 8:00 p.m., what is the proper millinery etiquette?
Today is the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (if you're Roman) or the Feast of Saint Mary the Virgin (if you're Episcopalian) or the Lady Day (if you're a low church Church of Englander) or the Dormition of Our Lady Theotokos (if you're Orthodox), and technically a Holy Day of Obligation (for you protestant heathens, that means you're supposed to go to Mass today).
So, where shall I go to church today?
The new archbishop is celebrating the 12:10 p.m. Mass at St. Matthew's Cathedral (R.C.).
St Paul's K Street (Episcopal) is doing a solemn high Mass with procession at 6:30 p.m. this evening, followed by a reception in the parish hall (which means free wine).
Any ideas? Anybody wanna go?
Whatever I do, I definitely want to go drink a bunch of bloody Marys after Mass.
Tonight Ryan went to his first Mass at St. Matthew's Cathedral. It turned out to be an unexpectedly eventful evening.
The Sunday evening Masses are never my favorite at most churches. The cathedral always uses it as an excuse to do a low Mass with a contemporary choir and dreadful, modern, post-Vatican II, sappy, bad Catholic music. Tonight was no exception. They were cruel to me, putting the service bulletin for the morning Masses (when they did decent music) on the same sheet of paper as the bulletin for the evening Mass (with the music that sucks).
All of the hymns came from the Gather hymnal (the green one). The entrance song was the unremarkable "We gather in worship," for the preparation song they did a responsorial psalm, communion was the annoying "Eat this bread" and the rececssional song was the ghastly "How can I keep from singing" (the answer to which is for the bass not to be in sync with the piano and to sing it at a dirge-like tempo).
For the Mass setting, they did that fussy Guimont Gloria setting, the Mass of Remembrance for the consecration, and the Celtic Mass setting of the Agnus Dei (and gospel alleluia).
The monsignor rector was the celebrant and homilist today. His homily was interesting, starting with the proper way to hold a dinner party and evolving into a rather Mormon discussion of everyone being their own Christ.
After Mass Ryan took a bunch of pictures of the nave and some of the side chapels, then we went to the unexpected event announced both during the pre-offertory announcements and with a post-communion booster announcement by Monsignor: a reception for gay and lesbian people.
This is a particularly interesting development given the fact they just installed a new archbishop of Washington the end of June and the reception was being held *in* the cathedral with the rector making an appearance and giving remarks. Having the reception in the cathedral is something that the archbishop would have had to approve, so that's a major sign of His Excellency's support. It turns out they are forming a group called AOC—"Always Our Children"—that will be a regular social and support group for gay and lesbian Catholics with a big support outreach to the parents and families of homosexuals. Tonight was basically a cookies and punch kind of thing, though I noticed Ryan managed to eat about a dozen little cream puffs in between pointing out to me the cute boys at the reception.
Yesterday after lunch, my friend John took me on a tour of the church where he works, Old St. Paul's Episcopal Church in downtown Baltimore. Old St. Paul's is the oldest church in Maryland and dates back to 1692, which was several years before I was born. As is typical for colonial-era parishes, they've gone through several enlargements, fire replacements, etc., and the current building was built about 150 years ago. Their rectory, on the other hand, dates to 1791 and is the oldest continuously occupied residence in Baltimore.
The current building is quite impressive. It must have been quite shocking for mid-19th century Episcopalian Marylanders, though, since the Oxford Movement (the push in the Church of England to escape Puritanism and move more towards "Catholic" ceremonial, ritual, and theology) had not yet come to the United States; the parish had chosen a renowned English-American architect, Richard Upjohn, who was the person much credited with launching the Gothic Revival in the United States. His other famous churches include Church of the Ascension and Trinity Wall Street in New York City.
St. Paul's is designed in the Romanesque style, rather than the traditional cruciate form. This means the nave (where the congregation sits) is more box-shaped rather than a long rectangle, and it would appear to seat close to 1,000. The interior space is highly decorated with fine art, sculpture, and stained glass, and it is obviously a very wealthy parish. The chancel and sanctuary are in a significantly narrowed area in front with a very ornate arched ceiling supported by Corinthian columns. Lots of gold leaf is used in the ceiling decor and there is a repeating pattern of the word, "Allelvia" (there is no U in the Latin alphabet). The white marble altar is backed by jeweled, mosaic reredos designed by Tiffany, including a big peridot gemstone in the center of the mosaic cross. The choir stalls include raised music racks, and this is one of the few churches in the country that still maintains a professional sounding boys choir for regular Sunday morning and evening services. I was also charmed by the sounding board over the pulpit, which used to be a fixture in large churches but which have gradually been disappearing as churches add better and better microphones and sound systems.
As I looked through some of the service leaflets and other worship materials around the narthex and in the sacristy, I was struck by the odd juxaposition of high church ceremonial with low church liturgy this place seems to use. They actually still do Morning Prayer on a regular basis on Sundays, instead of having Mass for every service.
It was easy to talk John into playing the organ for me. They have a fine 68-rank pipe organ with both a front organ in the chancel and an antiphonal organ in the back of the nave that includes a nice (though a bit underpowered for my tastes) trompette royal en chamade (those are the trumpet pipes that stick out horizontally that I love to use unexpectedly cause it makes babies cry). I'm not quite sure how to describe the manufacturer; the original organ was built by Roosevelt in 1859, but it has been enlarged by Skinner in 1916, Austin in 1970, and Möller in 1981; it sounds to me rather Möller-ish, but not completely, and I don't hear the Skinner at all. Some of the string and woodwind stops are particularly nice, and it has a lot of unusual mixtures. Since the organ is located back between the sanctuary and the chapel, out of sight of the congregation, John has to use a large video monitor to switch back and forth between views so he'll know what's going on during the services.
The windows in the church are quite beautiful. There's an odd mix of styles, though. About half of the windows are in the 19th century English style, including a lot of windows by Clayton and Bell dating back to the turn of the 20th century. They also have quite a collection of Tiffany windows, including the Lady Chapel, the Rose Window, a large window on the west wall, and about half of the windows on the sides of the nave.
On the right is a window from late 19th century England that features the Transfiguration on top and Christ in the Temple on the bottom.
While my personal glass tastes are more towards the Victorian English style, I was fascinated by the priceless Tiffany windows all over the church. Here are a couple of the nave windows. FIrst is a window called "Three Marys at the Tomb" and second is "The Angel of Faith." Both were done in 1903.
Ryan and I went to the 11 o'clock Mass this morning at the Cathedral Church of SS. Peter and Paul, also known as the the Washington National Cathedral. He'd been in the cathedral once before for a tour when he was thirteen years old and in town with a school tour group, but he had limited memory of what all he saw and he'd never gotten to attend a service here.
The mass setting was odd. Of course, a lot of this has to do with the young priestess in charge of the liturgy for the cathedral (they either need to educate her or replace her), who created a Rite 2 service with non-standard words and quasi-inclusive language and who has been doing weird things this year with the service music, such as this morning where we sang verse four of Laudate Dominum (with inclusive language) in lieu of the Gloria and an awkward recasting of the Sanctus and Benedictus to the tune Land of Rest ("Jerusalem my happy home"). Naturally, with these contemporary liturgists, there is no Kyrie and no Agnus Dei.
For example, in addition to him letting the young liturgist experiment too much and use inclusive language, he starts the service by standing up front and bringing greetings and making announcements before walking all the way to the back of the church for the processional. He lets the worship be extremely low church, with nothing chanted and with the congregation standing for prayers instead of kneeling, even for the confession and the consecration! He's also done something I hate: he has pulled the choir out of the choir stalls in the chancel and made them sit in chairs arranged behind the crossing altar in the congregationalist style, and that location not only destroys our long-standing Anglican tradition of making the altar rather than the choir the focal point of the church, it does not help the choir acoustically and we lose the magic of that etherial sound drifting out over the nave from the chancel.
Since I couldn't go to Mass this morning, Ryan actually suggested that we go to Solemn Evensong and Benediction at St. Paul's K Street this evening after I got home. And—there's more!—he was actually ready on time and we weren't late to church for a change! Tonight was the first time I've been able to hear a complete prelude all summer. :::hugs, Ry Ry:::
I forgot to mention the reception they had at St. Paul's after Mass last night. It really was a typical spread for them. I believe their parish kitchen must grow deviled eggs and boiled shrimp on trees, because they are always swimming with them.
There were a number of other interesting things, including several very differently and artistically decorated salmon mousses in various fish molds. I also enjoyed some cream cheese covered with a fig preserve and walnut compote and some lemony hummus with pita chips, while Ryan liked the baked brie en croute.
The windows in the church are quite beautiful. There's an odd mix of styles, though. About half of the windows are in the 19th century English style, including a lot of windows by Clayton and Bell dating back to the turn of the 20th century. They also have quite a collection of Tiffany windows, including the Lady Chapel, the Rose Window, a large window on the west wall, and about half of the windows on the sides of the nave.
