Church mice

Have you ever seen the churchmice in the National Cathedral?

Brian, Riley, and I ventured up to the cathedral for the 11 o'clock Mass yesterday morning. There we viewed two little churchmice....and not far away was a cat watching them!

The front half of the nave was surprisingly full when we walked in at quarter til, so we chose to sit in the south transept. A choir from a Kentucky college sang the prelude.

Worship at the cathedral seems to be less and less "Anglican" every time I go. This time, as we entered the church, we immediately noticed on the crossing altar that there were not two candles as is traditional, but two firepots. I felt very Zoroastrian. Here's a photo of one of the pots as the vergers were removing them from the altar after the service. As the Mass got going, rather than doing the Kyrie, they did the Trisagion from the Eastern Orthodox liturgy. Then, both for the Trisagion and the psalm, they used a cantor Roman Catholic-style, complete with that obnoxious poking an arm in the air to indicate when the congregation should sing. And, of course, instead of putting the choir in the choir stalls where they belong, they are still seating them in rows behind the altar like a bunch of Presbyterians. Sadly, the transcept chairs were all devoid of kneelers, so no one got to kneel during the service and had to stand for prayers. And, also as usual, the liturgy itself was not directly from the Book of Common Prayer, but was some odd little modification (including having the congregation join the priest in saying during the consecration of the Bread and Wine "Sanctify us also that we may faithfully receive this holy Sacrament, and serve you in unity, constancy, and peace; and at the last day bring us with all your saints into the joy of your eternal realm.").

The Men of the Cathedral Choirs provided the bright spots of the morning. They sang "When the Lord turned" by Adrian Batten (1591-1637) as the introit from the back of the nave before the procession. They did "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills" by Ernest Walker (1870-1949), something with which I was not familiar, and that had a strong late Victorian/Edwardian feel to it. "Oculi omnium in Te spirant Domine" by Andrew Parnell (b. 1954) was the communion anthem.

Hymns were In Babilone (Hail, thou once despised Jesus) for the processional, Morning Song (In boldness, look to God for help) for the sequence, The Eighth Tune (We gather at your table, Lord) at the presentation of gifts, Dunedin (O love of God, how strong and true) during post-communion ablutions (and the congregation stood for it!), and finally Es flog ein kleins Waldvögelein (Hail to the Lord's Anointed) for the recessional. Mass setting, what little there was with just Sanctus and Agnus Dei, came from the adaptation of the Schubert Deutsche Mass.

We were disappointed that there was no organ postlude. I guess this is part of their attempt to be "austere" during Lent. Personally, I would have just asked the organist to play something in a minor key. There also was no final blessing of the people at the end of Mass, but a prayer instead and a program note that it "according to ancient custom, replaces the final blessing during Lent." I am not aware of this ancient custom.

The celebrant (who the program calls the "presider") was the warden of the Cathedral College. The preacher was the canon pastor and director of the Center for Prayer and Pilgrimage at the cathedral, who was a very engaging speaker and delivered a coherent, logical talk lasting nineteen minutes. He spoke about the Lord guiding us through all the wildernesses of this life. He also talked about the Church clinging to the past and allowing itself to be embarrassed by science, asking "are those the good old days?" His final theme was one of restorative justice. He told the story of a priest maimed by an African government, and yet who said, "If I were full of hatred and bitterness about this, I would be a victim forever." There are so many people I know to whom that quote applies!

After Mass, we, naturally, went on a quick walking tour of the main level of the cathedral. They are setting up tables with coffee, lemonade, fruit, and cookies in the back corner of the nave now for a rather frenetic and desperately gluttinous "coffee hour." We passed on the freebies and, after strolling through the Bishop's Garden, walked in to Cleveland Park for brunch.