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. :-)