Midnight Mass '07

Christmas Eve, Laurent and I strolled over to St. Paul's K Street for Midnight Mass. It was a lovely evening, and the weather very temperate. We'd had a hard time weighing the pros and cons of where to go to church. There are a lot of Catholic and Episcopal churches in D.C., and they started their services at all different hours and had all kinds of different approaches to the festal day. Ultimately we chose St. Paul's because of the announced music to be sung, and also because they always have a huge champagne buffet up in the parish hall after the service! Does that make us "rice Christians"? LOL

St. Paul's is always a fun place to go for the big high holy day services, since they've a particularly splendid choir and organ and they are masters at High Church Anglo-Catholic ritual and liturgy. There's also a sense of history, too, since it is widely believed that the very first "Midnight Mass" to be held in an American Episcopal (Anglican) church was here at St. Paul's in 1870.

Since Christmas, I've heard from several friends that their churches were full but not packed for Midnight Mass. Thus was the case at St. Paul's, too. We showed up 45 minutes before the start time to get a good seat (and we got great seats!), but I think we could have showed up 30 minutes early and still gotten a good place. While they set up a few chairs in the narthex for overflow, the pews in the nave all could have had a few more people packed into them, so we were quite comfortable.

About quarter til, John started the organ prelude. He played Widor's Andante sostenuo from Symphonie Gothique, Op. 70, No. 9; Bach's In dulci jubilo, BWV 751; and Langlais's La crêche, Les anges, Les bergers, and La sainte famille from La Nativité. At the conclusion of the service, he would play Henri Mulet's Carillon-Sortie for the postlude. There's a picture of John in my post for Christmas Day.

Hymns for the formal Solemn Procession opening the service were Irby, Regent Square, and Adeste Fideles. Other hymns included Winchester Old for the sequence, Noel (an English tune for "It came upon the midnight clear") after the offertory, Stille Nacht during post-communion ablutions (the choir sang a verse in German), and Mendelssohn for the recessional (and the way John used the tuba mirabilis for Mendelssohn, it was more like, "Hark! The herald tubas sing!").

The Mass setting was Mozart's Coronation Mass, K. 317. They had a particularly excellent soprano soloist during the Mozart. Choral anthems were Poulenc's "O magnum mysterium" for the offertory and Britten's "Of one that is so fair and bright" during communion (with an antiphonal choir in the side chapel). The choir also did Anglican chant by John Goss for the psalm and chanted plainsong antiphons for the introit, gospel alleluia, offertory, and communion.

As always at St. Pauls, the reception following the service was quite lovely. There was a truckload of champagne, and I think they had a little cranberry spritzer for those not wanting alcohol. The food tables were laden with vegetables and dips, cheeses and cheese spreads, miniature ham sandwiches, sausage puffs, deviled eggs, and I think probably every shrimp from the Gulf of Mexico. We were there at the reception for quite some time, and still, they kept bringing out the shrimp!

The rector chatted with us a bit and complimented Laurent's Christmas tie. Laurent proudly told the priest that he was wearing Christmas boxers, too, and then, mustering up all his droll British dignity, the priest thanked Laurent for his unexpected confession. I just can't take that boy anywhere.

Christmas in Washington

Merry Christmas, everyone!


This is the first day of Christmas. You can start counting the twelve days now.




Laurent and I pose with organist John after Midnight Mass
at St. Paul's K Street.



Creche under the altar of the Marian shrine at St. Paul's K Street.



Laurent and I at the National Christmas Tree at the White House.
The tree looks better this year than in has the past three years.



This is the painting done in 1515 by Bernardino Luini that was used
for the Christmas stamp this year. It's called the
Madonna of the Carnation, and it's in gallery M18
at the National Gallery of Art.
I was surprised how small the painting is.
It's oil on a small wood panel in a big frame.

Latin Advent IV

Yesterday morning, I took Laurent to the Catholic cathedral for his first Mass there. It surprised me that after four years of living in the same town and within walking distance of St. Matthew's, he'd never gotten over for a service or at least a visit, but we remedied that.

We went to the 10 o'clock service, one that is always fun and a bit different, since it's in Latin. No, they don't do the Tridentine liturgy, but they do the Novus Ordo service, a contemporary, post-Vatican II translation. The homily, readings, and prayers of the people remain in English. The Mass setting is all assorted Gregorian chant, and the celebrant chanted much (though not nearly all he could) of the service.

The cathedral has a very nice, professional Schola Cantorum, supplemented with their Gregorian Scholars, that provides the musical leadership for the Mass. They sang "Ave Maria 5vv" by Palestrina for the offertory anthem, did a choral Agnus Dei from Missa super dixit Maria by Hassler, and for a communion motet, they did "Ecce concipies" by Gallus, in addition to introit, offertory, and communion antiphons.

There was one little sore thumb during the service. After the communion motet, they scheduled a congregational hymn "Within Our Hearts Be Born," a contemporary thing from the Gather hymnal. Now, the cathedral does seven Masses every Sunday, and this is the only Latin Mass. Now, I may be wrong, but don't you think that the people who come to the Latin Mass aren't exactly the Gather hymnal crowd?

(FYI, for you non-Catholics, the "traditional" hymnal these days is the Worship hymnal, a book filled with a few Catholic hymns, but mainly composed of solid Anglican and Lutheran hymns with revised "Catholic" words; the Gather hymnal is the reviled repository of bad contemporary Catholic music for the Haugen and Haas crowd and those who enjoy the "St. Louis Jesuits" genre.)

Other hymns for the day were Truro for the processional and Veni Veni Emmanuel for the recessional.

There was a very young priest I didn't know who was celebrant and homilist. I find it interesting how so many of the younger generation in the Church are attracted to the traditional ritual and ceremony of the old ways, and make fun of the folk Mass/hippie style of "contemporary" worship.

On our way into the cathedral, the cathedral rector was standing back in the narthex. I introduced Laurent to the good monsignor so Laurent wouldn't think he was another seminarian like he did with the rector of the National Shrine. LOL Laurent liked the service. Gregorian chant sounds so nice in marble, reverberant spaces.

Gaudete

Ryan wanted to go to church with us again Sunday, but he hated the huggy-kissy liturgy and the bad contemporary Catholic music at St. Matthew's Cathedral last week, so he acquiesced to going with us to St. Stephen's, even though he hates the 1960 period architecture (for a recovering Baptist, Ryan is very opinionated as to Roman Catholic worship). As Ryan doesn't do mornings, he, Laurent, and I went to the 5:30 on Sunday evening.

The 5:30 at St. Stephen's is rather unique. In contrast to the cathedral's dreadful contemporary evening Mass, St. Stephen's does the Mass setting (Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, etc.) in Gregorian chant. It's not a Tridentine Mass, alas, and the rest of the liturgy is in English, but at least those portions are sung in Latin. The service is fully cantored, but, thus far, they are doing all the music a capella. That works fine for the chants and traditional hymns, but it's usually a train wreck for more contemporary responsorial songs. They might have better luck if they picked music specifically for the service, instead of trying to do the same Mass with the same songs at every single Sunday Mass.

Anyway, it was Gaudete Sunday, the "joyful" break in the season of Advent, in preparation for the soon-to-come Christmas season. It's one of only two days in the liturgical year when the priests wear pink. The Mass setting was all Latin chant, with the Memorial Acclamation and Great Amen in English to Proulx's Mass for the City (I wish they'd get plainsong for those, too). Hymns were Veni, Veni Emmanuel for the processional, Truro for the offertory, and King of Glory for the recessional. As usual, no one sang the responsorial during communion.

I was proud of Ryan. He was being very charitable Sunday, and took a huge bag of his old clothes and coats (it's not as cold in D.C. as it is in New Hampshire) to contribute to the parish winter clothing drive.

On our way home after church, we were walking down the street when some strange female walking in front of us turned around, interrupted our conversation, and asked Laurent, "What's wrong with you?" I was aghast. Laurent says he's used to it, though. For those of you unaware, Laurent has cerebral palsy, wears leg braces, uses a cane to keep his balance, and has a bit of a struggling gait, yet he gets around fine and sometimes wants to walk faster than me. This isn't the first time I've witnessed this sort of thing happen. We were standing in line at a store cash register one day, and some older woman in the line turned and asked, "What do you have?" Now, when small children do things like that, that's one thing, as they are curious and non-judgmental about everything, but I expect grown women to have better manners.

Double Mass

Somehow I managed to end up going to Mass twice today.

This morning, Laurent and I headed over to St. Stephen's. They've switched their Mass setting for Advent to Richard Proulx's Mass for the City, though the Agnus Dei continues to be the Isele Holy Cross Mass, the Kyrie was plainsong, and the Gospel Alleluia is an adaptation of the de Victoria "O Magnum Mysterium."

The choir sang "This Is the Record of John" by Josef Rheinberger for the communion motet. Hymns were Nun komm der Heiden Heiland for the processional, Geneva for the offertory, a bad Jesuit responsorial for the communion marching music, and Venez, divin Messie for the recessional. I thought it was fun during the processional hymn when the words got to "down to death and hell descends" and the organist interpolated a little minor dissonant "hell" for us.

Monsignor's homily talked about confession. He tends to do that every year around this time.

_________________________

This afternoon, Ryan decided he wanted to go to Mass! Well, far be it from me to discourage him. He even picked out the 5:30 at St. Matthew's Cathedral as the place he wanted to go (he doesn't like St. Stephen's cause he thinks the outside door is ugly....interestingly enough, Monsignor has drawn up plans for a new entry way, but I don't think they've found donors yet).

The music there—that St. Louis Jesuits guitar Mass crap—quickly reminded me why I don't like going to that Mass. What's worse, they were receiving RCIA candidates tonight, and they did some weird little hippie/New Age ceremony with the candidates spaced out down the center aisle and, as the celebrant said stuff, the sponsors had to touch and make signs of the cross on various parts of the candidates' bodies. It was ghastly.....stuff like that would definitely send me running and make me not want to join a church.

The entrance hymn was an interestingly unsingable "Break Forth, O Beauteous Heavenly Light" that much of the congregation gave up on once it got too confusing. During the offertory, they sang a Psalm 85 responsorial setting from the Gather hymnal (both this and the actual psalm were both Haas settings). For the recessional, they did "God of All People." The Mass setting was the Haas' Mass of Light.

The celebrant (I didn't know the priest) talked during his homily about his preferences in Quizno's sandwiches. Somehow, he also worked in the concept that world peace was a good idea.

The one bright spot in the Mass was during communion. They had a tenor sing "Comfort Ye" and "Every Valley" from Handel's Messiah. It was nice, though the piano was very, very bright and muddled (it's hard to use a grand piano in a marble floored room), and it was a really odd juxataposition to have Handel with all the Haas music.

Oh, we saw Michael there in the congregation, but couldn't get over to say hi in the crowd. I seem to recall him telling me he likes bad contemporary Catholic music.

The street beggars were all out in force tonight as people came down the cathedral steps after Mass.

New year's church

Laurent and I celebrated the Church's new year yesterday at St. Paul's K Street. Usually, Laurent and I go to St. Stephen Martyr on Sunday mornings, but, even though I woke him at ten, he was too slow getting dressed and wasn't ready to leave until eleven. So, since Mass at Stevie's had already started, we went to K Street, as their Mass doesn't start until quarter past.

The place looks very pretty, decked out for Advent—this is a parish that, instead of purple, uses rich blue brocade with deep red orphreys and ornaments on their frontals and eucharistic vestments.

The Mass setting was Palestrina's Missa brevis. The choir sang Wood's "O thou the central orb" for the offertory and the de Victoria "Ave Maria" for the communion motet. Hymns were Helmsley for the processional (I thought it was cute that they did a service leaflet insert to give the congregation the four-part harmony music instead of the melody-only version in the hymnal), Llangloffan for the sequence, Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland during the ablutions, and Wachet auf for the recessional.

The organ prelude and postludes were two of the Bach preludes based on Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, with BWV 659 before and BWV 661 after.

The new seminarian read the sermon.

I was expecting maybe to hear Parry's "I Was Glad When They Said unto Me" today, but the choir did that psalm text to Anglican chant by Sir Walter Parratt.

Ran in to Mattie at Mass. It was fortuitous to see him. After the service, we went up to the parish hall for croissants with cream cheese and fruit preserves and little glasses of fino sherry.

Advent IV

Happy new year!

(For those of you not in the know, today is the first day of the Christian year.)

Off to Mass soon, but I thought I'd make a quick new year's post. Already got my first Christmas card on Friday (in *November*!) from some lawyer in Southern California. I didn't send out cards last year, so I'm sure 75% of my mailing list cut me from theirs; I don't expect many cards this year. LOL

This day always presents a dilemma. Do I go to Advent Lessons and Carols at St. Paul's K Street or at the National Cathedral? Perhaps timing will help me decide. The cathedral is at four and K Street isn't til six.

Supposed to rain today. I guess I'll wear black and purple.

Who knows how to make fancy animated user pics? I want an Advent wreath that has flickering candles, and that lights the appropriate number of candles for each week.

Christus Dominus

Today is Christ the King Sunday. Ended up going to St. Stephen's by myself this morning, since everybody was still asleep or nearly so. Church attendance was surprisingly light today. Even when you account for all the GWU students who were probably still gone for Thanksgiving break, I expected a few more in the pews.

It was so nice to hear the choir do a proper offertory anthem for a change! They sang Flor Peeters' "Jubilate Deo," and that took up almost all the necessary time. By the time the anthem was over, the thurifer hadn't quite finished the clergy and congregational incensations, so the organist tried to squeeze in two quick verses of King's Weston, which I thought unfortunate, as it sort of spoiled the splendid mood after the Peeters.

He sort of made a similar mistake with the communion music. They did the Fauré "Cantique de Jean Racine," which would have been a lovely communion motet, but they did a stupid marching music responsorial hymn first (nobody ever sings it), so by the time the hymn was done, communion was over and the priest was starting the ablutions, so, naturally, the Fauré was much, much too long and we had to sit (impatiently) and wait for the choir to finish.

I don't care what some church musicians say about offertory and communion hymns and anthems/motets all being important parts of the "liturgy" and worship experience, the simple fact of the matter is that the music in those positions is merely filler designed to cover "boring" things like collecting the money and preparing the bread and wine, or like giving communion to everybody and then cleaning up the mess. Once the "boring" stuff is done, the choir needs to stop, or it becomes boring, unappreciated, and unwanted in its own right. It's sad when nice things like the Fauré are allowed to get into that unappreciated category. And, right or wrong, parishioners complain when Mass lasts longer than an hour (today was 1.3 hours).

There was another bit of unusual procedure this morning. There is an old tradition observed in some parishes that the Te Deum is sung on Christ the King Sunday. Back when I used to cantor, I used to chant it as a post-communion ablutions anthem. I've also heard it chanted after the final prayer and before the blessing in some parishes. Here, though, we got to the recessional hymn (Nettleton), sang the first verse, then the men of the choir chanted the Te Deum, then we got back to finishing the recessional hymn. That was odd.

The processional hymn today was Diademata, with festive interpolated interludes.

The Mass setting used miscellaneous works by Leo Nestor for the Kyrie and Gloria, then the Memorial Acclamation and Great Amen from his Mass for the Parishes. The Sanctus and Benedictus came from Proulx's A Community Mass and the Agnus Dei came from Isele's Holy Cross Mass.

I actually paid attention to the homily today. Aren't you proud of me? Monsignor was wrapping it up when I remembered I hadn't read the parish newsletter yet, so I had to look at it during the creed. LOL

Bird comments

We walked into St. Stephen's Sunday during the Kyrie, late because Laurent was still wiping his face after the visit of his friend du nuit. When Laurent took communion, it gave me all new visions of the meaning of "the Body of Christ."

As we walked the three blocks from our condo to the church, Laurent kept wanting to regale me with tales of his conquests, while I kept trying to shift his mind to things more spiritual. Even as we were walking up to the door of the church, he continue to chatter (well, I saw him, and the boy is cute, but still!), so finally a bird (or was it God?) weighed in on the matter and relieved itself on the back of Laurent's shoulder—a shoulder clad in a white Polo shirt. I didn't tell Laurent about the deposit until we got home, hours after Mass and our trip to Union Station.

Alas, we missed the processional hymn, Holst's Thaxted ("I vow to thee my country," but with the Catholic words, "O God beyond all praising"), which is one of my favorites. They also did Picardy for the offertory and Ellecombe for the recessional.

The Kyrie was from Missa Secunda by Hans Leo Hassler (1525–1594). They did How for the Gloria, Proulx for the Sanctus and Benedictus, Nestor for the Memorial Acclamation and Great Amen, and Isele for the Agnus Dei.

The poor organist kept being plagued with ciphers (stuck notes on the organ) during the early part of the service. Organs are very complex, delicate, and finicky things that misbehave at the most inopportune times. He managed to work around them and do repairs several times, resolving most of it during the homily.

I don't know why, but I never could tune in to the homily and follow what the priest was saying. Maybe it was because we were nearly in the back row of the nave. Anyway, the parish really does need a longer weekly newsletter so we have something to read. LOL

The choir did a pleasant job (given their small size and lack of low basses) singing Edgar Bainton's "And I Saw a New Heaven" for the communion motet. It's really too long of an anthem to be done there, though, especially since the parish persists in first doing a responsorial communion marching song (that no one ever sings anyway), meaning the congregation sits there after the post-communion ablutions are completed restlessly awaiting the choir's silence so the priest can bless and dismiss them. That's not an ideal audience attitude for a nice, introspective anthem.

Christmas carols before Thanksgiving?

The radio stations around here are already playing Christmas carols, and have been for a week.

The malls, of course, have had Christmas decorations sneaking in since at least Labor Day and in full force since Hallowe'en, with more going up every day.

It's not even Advent. Advent doesn't start until December 2.

Now, I know I have readers who are Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu, Wiccan, atheist, and agnostic, so this really won't concern them that much, other than the disruption to their lives that the heavily marketed and hyped Christian holiday has, and their amusement/bemusement in watching the Christians go crazy this time of year. I also have readers who are nominally Christian, but who are totally clueless when it comes to understand the history and traditions of the religion, so they just kind of aimlessly go with the flow, not knowing what or why. It is more for this latter group that I issue this epistle.

Regardless of what pagan, druidic, Saturnalian, Mithraic, Hellenistic, and Zoroastrian customs may have been absorbed, conscripted, and adopted by Christianity in its celebration of the birth of its co-deity, and ignoring the fact that they conveniently moved the birthday party to overshadow a competing religion's god, the fact remains that in the United States and western society, Christmas—with all its traditions—is a Christian holiday.

The Church, in its infinite wisdom, moved the date of the birth of Jesus (who was probably born in September, though some authorities point to April) to December 25 in in the Third Century, but it wasn't until the Fourth Century that it began to be celebrated, though barely, as Epiphany on January 6 (commemorating the arrival of the Magi) was considered the major, more important feast. Once French king Charlemagne was crowned Holy Roman Emperor on Christmas Day 800, the observance began to be celebrated more and more, until by the 12th Century, there was a full Christmastide season—the Twelve Days of Christmas—that lasted from December 25 through January 5 (the night of December 5th, also being the Eve of Epiphany, is celebrated as Twelfth Night, and is the traditional time for bonfires, burning up all the old Christmas trees).

Meanwhile, around the Fourth Century, the Church began observing a period of preparation for Christmas called Advent. Originally, it was forty days, from St. Martin's Day until Christmas, but now it begins the fourth Sunday before Christmas. Many of our modern day Evangelical and Fundamentalist Protestant denominations do not observe Advent, but it should be noted that until recently—maybe the past 20 or 30 years—they didn't observe Christmas, either. Now, it wasn't an anti-Christmas thing with them as it was with the Puritans (in 1659, Puritans in Massachusetts passed a law banning the celebration of Christmas: "That whosoever shall be found observing any such day as Christmas or the like, either by forbearing of labour, feasting, or any other way, upon any such accounts as aforesaid, shall be subjected to a fine of five shillings."), but they simply said they only observed Sundays as the Lord's Day, and, thus, Christmas was not a big deal. Of course, what amuses me is that last year, when Christmas fell on a Sunday, not only are the Baptists and non-denominational megachurches observing Christmas now, they cancelled their Sunday morning services!

Since many of the pagan and druidic religions used holly, mistletoe, and evergreens to celebrate the winter solstice (December 22 this year), plus candles and bonfires to convey the festival of light concept, a certain degree of what we might call Christmas decorating began to occur in Advent. This was basically just the "hanging of the greens," though, as Advent is a quiet, introspective time, and the glamour and glitz of full-blown Christmas decorations waited until Christmas Eve.

The tree, however, did not go up at the beginning of Advent. The tree is a northern European tradition closely tied to Yule and the observance of the winter solstice, and as such, the early Church discouraged their use. The solstice can fall anywhere from December 21 to 23, and it was for the day of the solstice that a tree was decorated. Christians didn't get around to conscripting Yule and solstice trees as Christmas trees until the 16th or 17th centuries, and even then, it was pretty much limited to Scandinavia and Germany. Christmas trees were put up on Christmas Eve, decorated with nuts, fruit, dried or paper flowers, and small gifts that would be claimed by children the next morning.

While people argue about the "first Christmas tree in America," some claiming a German soldier put one up in 1777 and others claiming some towns of German immigrants did them in 1816 or 1821, it really wasn't until the later portions of the reign of Queen Victoria that Christmas trees became popular in America. Up through the World War II era, American trees went up on Christmas Eve, as families gathered for the holiday and to trim the tree, and they came down on the Feast of the Epiphany. Many people thought it bad luck to put up a tree before Christmas Eve or to take it down after Epiphany.

In the post-war years, though, the prosperity of the country was such that the retail merchants aggressively began pushing Christmas, gift giving, and conspicuous consumption, putting up their own decorations earlier and earlier and earlier, and pushing the common people into putting up Christmas trees, "getting into the Christmas spirit," and buying-buying-buying to put all those pretty presents under the tree. That same period coincided with the rise of the Evangelical and Fundamentalist denominations, who, courtesy of the G.I. Bill and newly college-educated members, could finally afford to market themselves and advertise their practices. Well, the Evangelicals and Fundamentalists, never having observed Advent and not really even doing much with Christmas, were easy prey for retail mercantilism, and they quickly bought into the more-is-more and earlier-is-better mindset. Now, they lovingly embrace their "old" Christmas traditions, bringing into their homes the most blatant symbol of druidic paganism they could possibly adopt, the Christmas tree.

So, now we have the abhorrent "tradition" of putting up Christmas trees for Thanksgiving and taking them down on Christmas Day night. Well, dear readers, that is wrong. Just wrong. Period.

Christmas is not a retail holiday. Just because the stores do it doesn't mean it's proper and correct for a Christian home. And remember, when those big department store started all that early Christmas sale stuff, those stores largely were not Christian-owned, they were Jewish-owned, and the Jews had no vested interest in the celebration of a Christian holiday other than as an opportunity for sales.

Of course, it bothers me even more when people are so tired of Christmas by Christmas Day that the family's main activity on Christmas is taking down the tree and putting away the decorations. At least leave them up until New Year's at the very least and preferably until Twelfth Night. When I see people taking down their trees on Christmas, I always want to go talk to them and counsel them about the significance of what they are doing. If you have an important guest coming—take your pick, the Pope, Prince William, Angelina Jolie, Zac Effron, whomever—it's great if you're so excited you decorate and celebrate the coming for a month or two before the arrival, but once your guest arrives, do you immediately take down the decorations and stop celebrating the guest's arrival?

So, here are my ten holiday rules. They're mine. I know some of you will disagree. But I'm correct, of course. ;-)

If you aren't Christian, you can't celebrate Christmas. So-called "secular" Christmas decorations are still observing the Christian holiday (Santa Claus is a Christian saint and early bishop). Also, since I don't want to disrespect your religious beliefs (or lack thereof), I can't give you a Christmas present (remember, gift giving commemorates the gifts of the Magi to the infant Jesus), and if I send you a card, it will be a New Year's card, not Christmas card.

Christmas trees or Christmas decorations that are put up in a private home before the earlier of December 1 or the first Sunday of Advent are inappropriate, and the practice is to be avoided.

More than one big Christmas tree in a private home is tacky. A big tree in every room of the house is especially tacky. You're not a Druid.

Christmas trees and decorations should stay up until the Feast of the Epiphany. If one must take them down earlier, they should stay up until at least New Year's Day. And, it's considered bad luck for Christmas decorations or greenery to remain in the house after Candlemas (February 2).

Don't sing Christmas carols until Christmas Eve. In December, up to Christmas Eve, you can sing Advent hymns and carols. And, if you absolutely, absolutely must do Christmas carols early, at least try to wait until Gaudete, the "festive" third Sunday of Advent (December 16 this year).

If you decorate your house with Christmas lights and you either have to have your own private generator or your electric bill is double that of your other cold winter months, you have way too many lights.

Have at least one Christmas party during Christmastide (December 25 to January 5), if not twelve.

Do something religious on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. After all, it is a religious holiday. And, think about doing something to observe Advent, to "prepare" quietly for Christmas.

Do something charitable for Christmas. Feed the homeless. Get presents for poor children. Visit the elderly in the Medicaid (welfare) nursing homes. Try to keep your vulgar conspicuous consumption in proportion to your charitable efforts. Remember, you're celebrating the birthday of a person who said to give away all your possessions and then follow Him.

If you're on Facebook, be sure to join my group, "Every time you put up a Christmas tree before December, God kills a kitten."

Sunday's journey

Sometimes I think the National Cathedral is trying to be high church Methodist. Then I realize the high church Methodists have a better sense of liturgy. These days at the cathedral, they sing a "song of praise" instead of the Gloria; they don't seem to believe in the Kyrie or the Agnus Dei at all. Everything is experimental liturgy and unfamiliar new hymns. None of my Episcopalian friends who come to town to visit can even recognize the liturgy as Anglican—often, they've asked me about it afterwards to confirm that it really is an Episcopal cathedral.

I've come to the conclusion, though, that they've finally gone off the deep end this fall and gotten all huggy-kissy-liberal. Not only have they hung all these bizarre, modern, pastel banners on the pillars in the nave (see the blue and green one on the pillar on the far right in the picture above—that was one of the best and prettiest ones), they've gotten so hippie-liberal they are now advertising a communion station featuring the Body of Christ in the form of gluten-free wafers.

Nevertheless, yesterday was Connecticut Day at the National Cathedral, so Laurent and I went up there to celebrate his home state. There was a big crowd there, so we ended up having to sit in the North Transept, giving us a side view of the crossing altar and pulpit.

The Connecticut people sent a bunch of banners and acolytes to the cathedral for the processions. They also sent their bishopess suffragan, who was the principal celebrant for the Mass. She seemed nice, and Laurent met her after the service.

The Cathedral Choir of Men and Girls sang the service. They started with Healy Willan's "Rise up, my love" as an introit sung a capella from the narthex. They did Ned Rorem's "All glorious God" for an offertory anthem, and I do believe that's the most melodic composition of Rorem's I've ever heard. It was a quiet, almost sweet, piece. The communion motet was a lovely "Cantique de Jean Racine" by Gabriel Fauré, one of my favorites.

Hymns were Abbot's Leigh (God, creator, source of healing) for the processional, Ellers (How like a gentle spirit deep within) for the sequence, Lucerna Laudoniae (God of mercy, God of grace) during post-communion ablutions, and Lobe den Herren (Praise to the Lord, the Almighty) for the recessional. In addition, instead of the Gloria, they sang a congregational hymn text to Lasst uns erfreuen as a "Song of Praise" and they did a text to The Eighth Tune ("Tallis Canon") as some sort of offertory presentation acclamation (where we used to sing the Doxology, before the liturgical reformers told us that was old fashioned and that we should go straight from the offertory to the Sursum corda). There really wasn't a Mass setting. They did the Sanctus from the Proulx A Community Mass and a "Christ our Passover" setting with which I was not familiar (but it sounded like a pretty little setting) and the identity of which is a mystery, since it isn't listed in the copyright notices in the bulletin.

Allein Gott in der Höh sei Herr, BWV 676, by J.S. Bach served as the organ prelude and the postlude was Bach's Praeludium pro Organ pleno, BWV 552.

Liturgically, they only did an Epistle and a Gospel reading (no Old Testament reading), and the prayers of consecration were not from any of the authorized alternatives in the Book of Common Prayer. They did Rite 2 language for everything, and several prayers (such as the Confession) were non-standard; they also changed the "It is right to give Him thanks and praise" to the inclusive language version. The cathedral dean preached a long sermon on reconciliation and forgiveness. Nothing was chanted, so it was almost a low Mass. The congregation also has to stand for everything, since the kneeling cushions were not put on at the chairs.

On the positive side, they've gotten rid of the Zoroastrian fire pots on the altar and replaced them with proper brass candlesticks. They've also put the choir back in the chancel, instead of in chairs behind the crossing porta-altar, but they still are putting chairs in the middle of the aisle for the choristers to sit. It's progress, though. Some day, I hope to get priests and liturgists there the choir can be proud of.

We didn't do much sight-seeing afterwards. Laurent was hungry, and wanted to eat post-haste, so we left in quest of a neighborhood restaurant.

Blessings through paper

We had quite the adventure for church today, starting off with a bus ride across town (it was too pretty out today to go underground) as we went to the noon high Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception on the Catholic University campus. Laurent had never been to Shrine or CUA before, so we got to play tourist. The Shrine is a fun place. It has quite a nice organ, and the building is beautiful (though acoustically challenged), but the 45 minute travel time discourages me from going often.

Today, the guest celebrant and preacher was the retired bishop of Scranton, who seemed to be a delightful man. He rather reminded me of an Irish Jimmy Stewart. Gave an interesting homily, too, about being buried with a rosary in one hand and a fork in the other.

The Mass setting today was the Palestrina Missa Aeterna Christi munera sung a capella by the choir (although they omitted the Sanctus and Benedictus, with the congregation singing the Proulx A Community Mass for those, the memorial acclamation, and the great Amen). The choir sang a lovely O Sacrum Convivium by Thomas Tallis as the post-communion motet and a rather short Benedic Anima Mea by Claudin de Sermisy for the offertory. All were a capella, as the nasty echo in the church makes it difficult to do organ and voice together. I only wish they wouldn't mike the choir, because it kills the choral blend and allows voices by the equipment to stick out of the texture. The amplification also detrimentally affects the cantoress, too, I think, since there's never any sense of vocal power from the speakers.

Hymns today were Lubeck (On this day the first of days) for the processional and Christe Sanctorum (Christ is the world's light) for the recessional.

Organ prelude and postlude were from Leon Boëllmann's Suite Gothique, Op. 25, with the "Introduction–choral; menuet" at the beginning and "Toccatta" at the ending.

I don't know why, but they never offer the chalice to the people at this place. For some reason, I always come away from Mass feeling a bit cheated.

After Mass, we had to walk around and look at the place. The Shrine is the largest Catholic church in the country, seaeting over 6,000, and is rather unique and unexpected with its contemporary take on Romanesque and Byzantine ecclesiastical architecture and interior art. In the basilica design tradition, it has a series of small side chapels along the side aisles flanking the nave and another series of chapels and a large crypt chapel (seating 400+) occupies the undercroft.




We ended up in the bookstore and the gift shop, where Laurent picked out a sterling silver Celtic crucifix for him to wear. Then, as we walked through the cafeteria, he espied a table of seminarians in their clerical uniforms and asked them to bless his crucifix for him, but they had to decline, since they hadn't yet been ordained. Then while we were walking through the crypt, another man in clerical garb walked by and Laurent stopped to ask him if he was a seminarian or a priest so he could get his purchase blessed. He was a priest. Well, yeah.....I didn't tell Laurent until after the fact, but the man he stopped was the rector of the basilica! LOL He patiently acquiesced to the request, but, no doubt anxious to move on, stopped Laurent from digging the cross out of the sack and box, saying, "Blessings go through paper, you know."

Sine Nomine procul sanus maximus

Last night was the Procession and Solemn Pontifical Mass in commemoration of All Saints' Day at St. Paul's K Street, and it was, as predicted, glorious.

The church was standing room only and they had to set up folding chairs in the narthex to accommodate the overflow crowd. Parish organist John opened the festivities with a prelude from the Chorale of Louis Vierne's Symphonie No. 2 in E minor. In fact, it turned out to be a big Vierne night, as the new interim choirmaster played the Final from the Symphonie No. 1 in D Major, and the Mass setting was Vierne's Messe Solennelle.

This is the first time I've heard the new interim choirmaster, who was imported from England for a year and started the first of September. He's younger than I had expected. I thought he took most of the music at a very fast clip, and he has an interesting habit of bouncing on his toes as he conducts. I was disappointed he didn't come up to the reception afterwards, as I would have liked to have made his acquaintance. I did see, though, the organist from the National Cathedral up there (the cathedral is very low church under the current dean and transfers the feast to the nearest Sunday, unfortunately).

Once the altar party and choir had taken their places in the sanctuary and chancel, the solemn procession led by an excellent thurifer (I always like guys with the courage to do "round the worlds" with the incense) moved around the nave, singing first Sine Nomine (For all the saints), then Lasst uns erfreuen (Ye watchers and ye holy ones). I liked the way John played the processional hymns, especially his tasteful use of the tuba mirabilis and other ear-blasting stops on the huge organ that expressed the festal nature of the occasion without leaving us in the congregation with tinnitus. Other hymns included Zeuch mich, zeuch mich (Who are these like stars appearing) as the sequence, St. Catherine's Court (In our day of thanksgiving) during the post-communion ablutions, and an obnoxiously high (several long high Fs) All Hallows (O heavenly Jerusalem) for the recessional.

The choir also did an Anglican chant setting by Thomas Attwood for the psalm (Cantate Domino) and the offertory anthem was Basil Harwood's "O how glorious is the Kingdom." To save time, the lengthy Agnus Dei from the Mass setting served as a communion motet.

As is the custom at St. Paul's, all of the versicles and responses, antiphons, Gospel alleluias, collects, Bible readings, consecration prayers, etc., were chanted, and the congregation even chants the Lord's Prayer and the Nicene Creed. It's also a fun church, cause most of the congregation sings parts on the hymns.

The retired bishop of Bethlehem, Pa., was a special guest, and he served as preacher. He was very good for a bishop—only talked for fifteen minutes, and he was actually interesting.

After Mass, we had a lovely wine and cheese and hors d'oeuvres reception in the parish hall.

Here is a little 15 second clip (as soon as YouTube finishes processing them) of John's prelude:





and a little 30 second clip of Giles's postlude:

Westboro

A jury in Baltimore awarded $10.9 million in damages to the family of a Marine killed in Iraq against the Westboro Baptist Church, its "pastor" Fred Phelps, and two of Phelps' daughters, for their offensive actions in picketing the Marine's funeral in yet another chapter of their nationwide hate speech and pandering for media attention. Westboro is the cult from Topeka, Kansas, composed of various members of Phelps' extended family known for their offensive picketing around the country, more recently at military funerals, and their "God Hates Fags" Web site.

Congratulations to the jury!

Naturally, the Phelpses will appeal (Phelps is a disbarred attorney and most of his fourteen children are law school graduates), but I hope the appeals court will uphold the verdict. It sounds as though the trial judge was very careful to educate the jury about First Amendment issues and when a tortfeasor crosses the line into outrageous, unprotected speech. Now, I hope the soldier's family aggressively pursues collection so that that "church" is drained of assets and its ability to spew its venom around the country.

It's people like the Phelpses that give Christianity a bad name and make me not want to be affiliated with the religion.

Street preaching

It was a beautiful day in Tulsa today! After brunch, we drove around town a bit, stopping in at Oral Roberts University, where I got to preach at the front gate! LOL

These enormous praying hands originally graced the three-skyscraper "City of Faith" complex at ORU, where they used to have a hospital, medical school, and nursing school. When the hospital closed down, they turned the three buildings into general office space and had to move the hands to the main entry gate of the university. I thought I should go by ORU since it's been in the national news so much lately. LOL

I saw Richard Roberts on his television Bible show this week (the ORU stations are on all the local cable lineups), and, wow! he looks old now! Of course, he's 60, but he's still doing his smiley sing-speak routine with all his "deep meaning" and "expressiveness" like he was doing back when he and his first wife were still part of the ORU World Action Singers.

Quickie

Laurent and I went to Mass Sunday morning at St. Stephen. Just a quick in and out. It was kind of an odd Anglican music tribute day—the choir sang Charles Stanford's Beati Quorum Via (very nice) as a communion motet, a Kyrie from the Herbert Howells Mass in Dorian Mode (twas nice—they should sing the whole Mass setting), and the Agnus Dei from Gerald Near's Communion Service.....but then all the other service music was the usual odd mess of various modern Catholic settings. Hymns were Mit Freuden zart (Sing praise to God who reigns above) for the processional, Forest Green (Your hands, O Lord, in days of old) for the offertory, and Leoni (God is my great desire) for the recessional (why do they sing Leoni so often at this parish?).

Mozart on a Sunday morning

Every quarter, St. John's Lafayette Square has a special Sunday morning church service where they bring in an orchestra and they make use of it to enrich their worship experience, typically with Mozart Mass settings. Yesterday was one of those Sundays, so our good friend Max—a longtime St. John's parishioner—invited us to come down and hear the music.

We got there a little late and had to sit in the back row under the balcony. Before we left the apartment, Laurent had to change shirts four times before he was satisfied with his "look," and, still, he refused to wear a tie to match Ryan and me, as well as all of the other gentlemen (and most of their boy children) at the service. Methinks he's spent too much time with Catholics, who are known to wear any old thing to Mass, including shorts and t-shirts. We will eventually I trust, though, get him properly socialized for suitable Episcopalian company and society.

The centerpiece of the service was Mozart's Mass in C, K. 257. The chamber orchestra sounded very nice in the space, only marred a bit because the strings got a little out of tune by the Benedictus. The musicianship of the players was excellent, though, because they used their ears to tune together in ensemble passages. The fourteen-member St. John's choir provided the choral support, and the four soloists were taken from the choir.

They chose to do the Kyrie as a choral prelude and the Agnus Dei as a communion motet. In addition at communion, they did Alma Dei creatoris, The kindly mother of God the Creator, K. 277. Venite populi, Come, O people, K. 260, served as the offertory anthem. Also during the offertory they did Nun danket alle Gott as a congregational hymn. Other hymns included Austria as the processional, Cwm Rhondda as the recessional, and Azmon (O for a thousand tongues to sing) as the sequence (at St. John's, they do half the sequence hymn before and half after the Gospel).

It's always a pleasure to visit St. John's. They have an excellent music program, the rector is an engaging preacher, and the congregation is unusually friendly for an Episcopal church. But, sitting through a service always reminds me why I've never joined the parish: liturgy. They are a very low church parish, the clergy wears only albs and stoles during Mass (no copes or chasubles), they don't chant, they do that quasi-inclusive language liturgy nonsense (things like during the sursum corda saying "It is right to give God thanks and praise" instead of the correct phrase "It is right to give Him thanks and praise), and they abridge and rush through the actual prayers of consecration. They also have an unfortunate penchant for allowing priestesses to celebrate Mass; fortunately, the rector and one of the assistants were concelebrating, so the Elements were validily consecrated and we were able to receive.

Here's a picture of Laurent sitting in the "President's Pew" after Mass.

Umberto Eco on personal computers

Umberto Eco, the Italian novelist, medievalist, semiologist, and philosopher, compares Macs and PCs to the two main branches of the Christian faith: Catholics and Protestants.

The Mac is Catholic, he wrote in his back-page column of the Italian news weekly, Espresso, in September 1994. It is "cheerful, friendly, conciliatory, it tells the faithful how they must proceed step by step to reach—if not the Kingdom of Heaven—the moment in which their document is printed."

The Windows PC, on the other hand, is Protestant. It demands "difficult personal decisions, imposes a subtle hermeneutics upon the user, and takes for granted the idea that not all can reach salvation. To make the system work you need to interpret the program yourself: A long way from the baroque community of revelers, the user is closed within the loneliness of his own inner torment."

Patron saints

Today is the feast day of two of the patron saints of homosexuals, SS. Sergius and Bacchus (the other patron saint, at least in some circles, is St. Sebastian, who is honored on January 20, or, for those Episcopalians who belong to Integrity, St. Aelred of Rievaulx, who's honored on January 12). I suppose that since this is a Sunday, the feast observance will be transferred to tomorrow, but October 7 is the official, traditional date.

In the early fourth century, Sergius (sometimes called Serge) and Bacchus were high-ranking Roman soldiers and Christians in charge of training young recruits, who were martyred because they refused to worship traditional Roman gods. They were apparently known as homosexuals and lovers (in the Middle Ages, it was believed that they had been joined in a union, much like marriage), because in their disgrace, they were stripped of their military uniforms and forced to ride through town dressed as women, in an early example of Army gay bashing. They were both beaten and tortured until Bacchus died. Sergius was then marched to another location in nail-studded shoes, and the night before he was executed, Bacchus appeared to him in a vision attired as an angel.

SS. Sergius and Bacchus are often cited these days in same sex marriages and union ceremonies. They are considered patron saints, not only for homosexuals, but for the persecuted or marginalized who dare to follow their heart and conscience in opposition to established authority.

Piccolo Mass

Finally made it to church for a change. We've been bad the last few Sundays. Ryan slept in, of course, but Laurent and I wandered over to St. Stephen for the 11 o'clock.

The choir sounded unusually nice today. They were doing portions (Kyrie, Gloria, Agnus Dei) of a setting called Canterbury Mass by Anthony Piccolo. Piccolo is on staff at New York City Opera and has ties to D.C., having formerly studied at Peabody in Baltimore and having worked with the National Symphony and composed a number of works premiered at the Washington National Cathedral. I thought the composition sounded quite contemporary Anglican, and the choir at St. Stephen always sounds best when it does Anglican literature.

The rest of the mass setting was an odd hodge-podge with the standard Proulx Sanctus, and a new (for this parish) Memorial Acclamation and Amen by Leo Nestor, the director of choral activities at Catholic University here in town.

Hymns today were a rousing St. Anne for the processional, We nur den lieben Gott at the offertory (with the improvised accompaniment much more interesting than the hymn itself), and the well-known Wesley Aurelia, but instead of the standard "The Church's one foundation" words, they used one of those weird sets of Catholic words "O Christ the great foundation." Oh, and for the communion marching music the congregation never sings, they did "O blessed Savior now behold," one of those dreadful GIA songs that doesn't resolve at the end.

Communion motet was "Hear My Prayer, O Lord" by Henry Purcell.

This month, the parish is encouraging re-devotion to the Blessed Virgin and to the Rosary, with comments during the homily trying to tie our increased devotion to Mary to decreasing the horrendous, violent crime in parts of the world. I'm not quite sure how that's supposed to work. I was never very good at mariolatry, though.

I want to go to Mass here next week, cause they are singing parts of the Rachmaninoff Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, but, alas, I think I'm stuck going to St. John's Lafayette Square next week with a bunch of friends to hear Mozart's Missa Brevis in F (with orchestra), followed by brunch. I just hope they have a real priest there to celebrate instead of one of their gaggle of priestesses.

Sunset in Washington

Ramadan

Oh, I was reminded that Ramadan has just started....I don't think I have any Muslim friends or readers, but if I do, best wishes for your month of fasting...and don't forget to invite me to those all night parties you have! :-)

L'shanah Tova

Happy Rosh Hashanah!

We ate our apple slices dipped in honey after sundown last night. A sweet new year to all my Jewish friends and readers!

Church in Oklahoma

Over Labor Day weekend, I flew back to Oklahoma early Saturday morning to check on things with my parents, as my father was in the hospital for the second time in two weeks. My mother and I made an appearance at the early service at St. Luke's Sunday morning. The priest is on vacation, so they had a deacon's Mass with their perpetual deacon officiating. They've got a new curate who was just this summer ordained to the transitional diaconate. She gave the sermon.....I say "gave" rather than "preached" because she wrote a nice essay and just read it. Otherwise, she seems nice, and she's, surprisingly, older than me. The early service is a low Mass with no music, so it's kind of boring, but it's the only service at the parish these days that's consistently a proper Rite 1 service.

Oh, thank God, it's the Mormons!

Mass was sleepy this morning. Hymns were Slane (Be thou my vision) for the processional, McKee (Let saints on earth in concert sing) for the offertory, and Leoni (God is my great desire) for the recessional. Mass setting was mostly Proulx. I did the 9:00, so there was no choir.

Nearly fifty years ago, many in the country were asking whether or not John Kennedy could be trusted to be president of the United States because he was a Roman Catholic, and he might be subject to taking orders from the pope. As I was sitting in St. Stephen's—a place where the Kennedy family often worshipped—I started thinking about that and the parallels of the current dilemma we have in the Republican Party with the upcoming 2008 presidential election.

What triggered this line of thinking is the fact that Friday night, we went to see the new movie September Dawn, the true story of how the Mormons in Utah slaughtered a group of 120 Arkansas pioneers on their way to California in 1857, and the "conspiracy theory" that orders for the massacre came from the highest levels of the Mormon Church, even from then-president Brigham Young himself.

Now, September Dawn purely as a movie wasn't really the best-made movie I've ever seen. Aside from some fine performances from Jon Voight as Bishop Samuelson and Terence Stamp as Brigham Young, the rest of the cast (mostly because of the script and direction) bounced between stilted and high school drama club. The movie was based on the few available details of the factual massacre, and the script writers took a great deal of artistic license to create a very predictable love story that dominated most of the movie, I guess to balance out the hard facts of church history, conspiring with the Indians, and killing men, women, and children. The editing is choppy, camera angles monotonous, and it was several minutes into the film and its jumping around from date to date that I finally figured out what was going on.

The one thing the movie did drive home, though, was the strong, controlling, dominating influence of religious fundamentalist fanasticism and what such zealots can do "in the name of God." Now, the Mormons certainly have no monopoly on fanaticism and murdering in the name of God. After all, the Catholics have been doing that for millennia (remember the Crusades? the Inquisition?), and the Protestants have continued it themselves for centuries (reformation wars, witch hunts, etc.). We're also seeing a lot of it these days with modern Muslims.

Fifty years ago, though, I would venture to say that most Catholics would be quick to question an order from the pope or some archbishop to go murder innocent people, and today in 2007, Catholics not only would question but would "tell them where to go." The papal control thing was never really a serious concern in 1960 with John Kennedy.

The Mormons, though, are completely another matter. Now, as a non-Mormon, I may not have all the details just right, but I think I understand the gist of things. I might also say that I have a number of friends and acquaintances who are Mormons, and I respect the family-centered commitment and uprightness of their church and membership, so I have no ax to grind against them. The Mormons have a president they believe is God's prophet on earth, and a high council of a dozen or so "apostles" they believe are also in direct communication with God. The Mormon Church is extremely hierarchical, with small, local groups being ruled by lay bishops who have pretty much absolute authority over the members of their wards. I know Mormons who have quit their jobs and moved to different towns to fulfill the orders of their bishop or higher church authorities, and others who have taken on volunteer positions or tasks even when they didn't really have time for them. Discipline and obedience are very highly prized standards in the Mormon Church. Certainly, they aren't the zealots they were in the mid-19th century and they don't go around killing their errant members anymore, but the rules and pressure for obedience are still there. And, thus, we have the source for the Republican's current dilemma: Mitt Romney.

If Governor Romney were to become President of the United States, if the highest councils of the Mormon Church were to tell him to do a particular thing, what would he do? Now, of course, Mr. Romney is going to say that he will fulfill his oath of office to the Constitution and to the People, and that will override anything the Mormon Church might want. Yet, what will really happen? I believe that even today, Mormons are acculturated to do what the church leadership tells them to do. If push comes to shove, my gut feeling is that Mr. Romney is going to do what his church tells him to do.

What is particularly interesting about the September Dawn movie is Governor Romney's ancestor's role in the massacre. His Mormon polygamist great-great-grandfather "stole" an Arkansas woman to make her one of his wives, but the woman's husband didn't take kindly to that, and killed the Romney progenitor. It is believed that revenge and "blood atonement" for his death was one of the primary motivators for the Utah massacre of the Arkansans. I hear that Governor Romney does not plan to see September Dawn.

There are many who are claiming that this movie was made solely for the purpose of embarrassing the Mormons and hindering Governor Romney's presidential campaign. I give that argument short shrift. The massacre is historical fact. Look at the date of the massacre, too: September 11, 1857. This is the sesquicentennial (a/k/a 150th anniversary) of the massacre. I hardly think that the Governor's detractors began planning this 150 years ago.

September Dawn isn't going to win any Academy Awards. It is a useful vehicle, though, to educate us about a sad chapter of American history and to remind us of the rules and traditions of a major religious organization in America. I don't believe the movie's purpose is to foment anti-Mormon sentiment or embarrass Romney any more than a movie about the 1507 historical incident when 30 "witches" were burned by the Spanish Inquisition would be anything more than a 500th anniversary observance of the event, and certainly not a movie attempting to drum up anti-Catholicism or embarrass the presidential campaign of Rudy Guiliani.

So, I take the movie on its face value. Release is pretty limited (it's only at one theater in all of Washington, D.C.!), so if its showing near you, consider seeing it, especially if you are unfamiliar with the Mormon Church. And, if you can't catch it this month, at least try to rent the DVD.

(By the way, the title of the post is a quote from the movie, when the Arkansans have been under siege and the Mormons show up to "help" them shortly before murdering all of them.)

Liturgy meme (stolen from Friarjohn)

Liturgical Movements of Personal Devotion
and other amusing things
(yeah, it's a church thing)



BOWING - Simple Bow
[x] At the name of Jesus
[x] Toward the processional/recessional cross
[ ] Toward the Gospel book during the processional
[ ] When saying, "And also with you"
[ ] Toward the priest during the pro/recessional
[x] Toward the bishop during the pro/recessional
[x] At the Gloria Patri
[ ] Why the heck should I bow?

BOWING - Profound Bow or Genuflection
[x] When entering/leaving a pew (if Sacrament is reserved)
[x] When approaching or leaving the altar
[x] During the Nicene Creed at the Incarnatus: From "he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary, and was made man" through "he suffered death and was buried."
[x] At the Sanctus: "Holy, holy, holy..."
[ ] At the words of institution
[ ] After the words of institution
[ ] Again, why the heck should I bow or genuflect, huh?

SIGN OF THE CROSS+
[x ] Up, down, left, right (RC)
[x] Up, down, left, right, heart (Anglican)
[ ] Up, down, right, left, heart (Orthodox)
[x] At every mention of "Father, Son and Holy Spirit" (or similar form)
[x] At the end of the Gloria: "You alone are the most high - Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit, in the +Glory of God the Father."
[x] When using Holy Water, entering and leaving the church
[x] At the opening of the liturgy
[ ] At the Gospel Proclamation - Regular way
[x] At the Gospel Proclamation - Forehead, Heart, Mouth
[x] At the final clause of the Nicene Creed: "we look for the +resurrection of the dead..."
[x] During prayers for the departed (if "Rest eternal grant to them..." or similar is used)
[x] At the absolution after confession
[x] At the Sanctus: "Blessed is he who comes in the Name of the Lord."
[ ] During the Words of Institution
[x] At the Elevations after the Words of Institution
[x] When the celebrant says, "sanctify us also..."
[x] Before receiving Holy Communion
[x] After receiving Holy Communion
[x] At the blessing/dismissal
[ ] At the Lord's Prayer: "and deliver us from evil."
[ ] When passing by a church whilst on the street (sometimes)
[x] At the beginning of the Magnificat, Benedictus, or Nunc Dimittis
[ ] I don't do the sign of the cross because my sign is listed in the horoscope.

KNEELING
[x] Before the service begins
[x] During the Penitential Order during Lent
[x] At the confession of sin
[x] During the prayers of the people
[x] During the Eucharistic prayer
[x] While receiving Holy Communion
[x] The post-Communion prayer and blessing
[ ] I don't kneel, my knees hurt.

THE SIGN OF PEACE
[ ] The Peace - Important (but please don't use this time for an extended get-to-know-you conversation!)
[ ] The Peace - Enjoyable
[x] The Peace - Awkward and irritating
[ ] Um, yeah, excuse me, but I don't know you.
[ ] Get away from me you pervert!

THE SERMON
[x] Roll eyes during a dumb sermon
[ ] Smile politely during a dumb sermon
[x] Do a crossword puzzle during a too-long sermon
[ ] Applaud, hoot, or holler at a good point during a sermon
[ ] Give an "Amen" during a sermon
[ ] Take down notes during a good sermon
[ ] Fall asleep during the sermon

ADMINISTRATION AND RECEPTION OF THE EUCHARIST
[ ] Intinction (if I've got an obvious mouth/throat infection)
[x] Sipping or wetting lips from chalice
[ ] Handing over host to be intincted by chalice bearer or acolyte
[ ] "Ewwww, nasties!"

THE PRIEST
[ ] Ignore the priest after the service
[x] Shake the priest's hand after the service
[ ] Hug the priest after the service
[ ] Give the priest a kiss on the cheek after the service
[ ] *speaks in a sulty voice* "Hey pops, wanna listen to my confession? I'm all alone at home this evening."

MUSIC
[x] Traditional music
[ ] Contemporary music
[ ] Have the cantor and choir shut up NOW.

THE BIBLE
[ ] King James Version
[ ] Bishop's Bible
[ ] Coverdale Bible
[x] Revised Standard Version
[x] New Revised Standard Version
[ ] New International Version
[ ] Message Bible
[ ] Comic books and mags are my Bible

COFFEE HOUR
[ ] Coffee hour = heaven (though the coffee itself is often dire)
[ ] Coffee hour = hell
[ ] Coffee hour = necessary evil
[ ] Coffee hour = near occasion of sin
[x] Coffee hour only when there's sherry/alcohol
[ ] I'd rather cozy up at Bucky's with the rector or vicar

THE BISHOP
[x] Kissing episcopal rings
[ ] Just shaking bishop's hand

CHURCH ATTIRE
[ ] Casual at church
[ ] Semi-formal at church
[x] Formal at church
[ ] G-string and body fur

FIRE AND SMOKE
[x] Prefer incense
[ ] Incense = can't breathe
[ ] Incense = major headache
[x] Light candles
[ ] I don't trust myself; I'll burn the church down.

DIGNUM ET JUSTUM EST
[x] "It is right to give Him thanks and praise."
[ ] "It is right to give our thanks and praise."
[ ] "It is right to give God thanks and praise."
[ ] "It is right to offer thanks and praise."
[x] Ah, screw it. "It is meet and right so to do."

THE PATER NOSTER
[X] "Our Father, who art in heaven."
[ ] "Our Father in heaven."
[ ] "Our Abba in heaven."
[ ] "Our Mother in heaven."
[ ] "Yo pops, with yer bling-bling."

WORSHIP SPACE
[ ] Solitary worship
[ ] Small parish
[ ] Medium parish
[x] Large parish
[x] Cathedral
[ ] Mission/chaplaincy
[ ] Megachurch
[ ] Anywhere "as long as the word is rightly preached, and the sacraments faithfully administered"
[ ] Can't be arsed to go to church

SACRAMENTALS
[x] Use the Dominican rosary
[ ] Use the Anglican rosary
[ ] Use an Orthodox prayer rope
[ ] Use a Franciscan Crown, the seven-decade Dominican rosary
[ ] Use Sacrifice Beads
[ ] Use Prayer stones
[ ] I use the rosaries/prayer beads for other means (i.e. strangulating people)
[ ] Venerate icons
[ ] Iconoclastic tendencies (or maybe I'm just not a visual or touch-y person)

OTHER - JUST FOR FUN
[x] Saying the filioque clause during the Nicene Creed
[ ] Whispering "My Lord and My God" at the elevation of the consecrated elements
[ ] Extending your arms when saying, "And also with you"
[ ] Strike breast during Lord's Prayer: "Forgive us our sins..."
[x] Strike breast at any petition for forgiveness and pardon
[ ] Strike breast when saying "Lord, I am not worthy to receive You..."
[ ] Slap yourself in dismay when the priest says something stupid
[ ] Trip someone in the procession and pretend you didn't do it.

THE SACRAMENTS
[x] Transubstantiational Eucharist
[ ] Consubstantiational Eucharist
[ ] Holy Mystery Eucharist
[ ] Symbolic/Remembrance Eucharist
[ ] Cookies 'n juice time!
[ ] "Ooooh, refreshments!"

NUMBER OF SACRAMENTS
[ ] 2 Sacraments
[x] 7 Sacraments
[ ] 8 Sacraments
[ ] 2 Sacraments and 5 Sacramental Rites
[ ] Coffee hour
[ ] I don't call them sacraments; I call them ordinances!
[ ] The number is undefined

WHAT IS AN EPISCOPALIAN/ANGLICAN?
[ ] Catholic
[ ] Protestant
[x] Both
[ ] Neither

THEOLOGY
[x] High Church/Anglo-Catholic/Anglo-Orthodox
[ ] Broad Church
[ ] Low Church
[ ] Charismatic
[ ] Evangelical
[ ] Restorationist, as to restoring the pre-Reformation Catholic traditions of Anglicanism
[x] Affirming/Accepting
[ ] Welcoming, but seeking to preach the truth with love
[ ] Progressive
[x] Conservative
[ ] Post-modern
[ ] Liberal
[ ] Moderate
[x] Traditional, theologically speaking

CALVINISM VS. ARMINIANISM
[ ] Calvinist
[ ] Arminian
[x] Neither position
[ ] I don't care.

THE TRINITY
[ ] Creator, Redeemer, Sanctifer
[x] Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
[ ] Source, Saviour, and Procession
[ ] Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver
[ ] Buddha, Dharma, Sangha

THE BLESSED VIRGIN
[x] The Blessed Virgin was immaculately conceived
[x] The Blessed Virgin was assumed into heaven
[ ] The Blessed Virgin "fell asleep"
[ ] The Blessed Virgin was prepared during her life with special grace to be pure and holy for the birth to Jesus
[ ] The Blessed Virgin is ever-virgin
[x] Good ole Mary and Joe had a bucket of kiddies
[ ] The Blessed Virgin is present in the Eucharist because by the power of the Holy Spirit her Son took our flesh from the Blessed Mother, and because his Body and Blood is present in the Bread and Cup, she is present in a special but not real way
[ ] The Blessed Virgin is co-redemptrix with her Son
[ ] The Blessed Virgin fell asleep, was buried, and three days later was resurrected and taken bodily to heaven, a foretaste of what will be for all who are in Christ.

Brooke Astor

I've just been listening to the most interesting internet broadcast, the funeral of Brooke Astor from St. Thomas Episcopal Church in New York. I don't know how many of you know Mrs. Astor, but over the past few decades, she has given away over $200 million to various charitable causes and set the "proper" standard for philanthropy. She has supported the understructures of charities and emphasized organizations that help the poor and disadvantaged help themselves in a world where most charitable donors have wanted to build flashy new buildings bearing their names, but then offered no financial support to operate those buildings. Mrs. Astor did what was necessary to help charities pay the bills and be successful in their missions, and up until just a few years ago, she actively visited those charities to monitor their success and offer her advice and support.

Well, today Mrs. Astor, aged 105, is being laid to rest. She's had quite the grand funeral at St. Thomas—the NYC church with the famous boys' choir and the occasional rumble of the subway trains below—and, no doubt, the place was standing room only. His Honor the Mayor of New York spoke. The United States Marine Corps provided her with her pallbearers (Mrs. Astor's father was once the Commandant of the Marine Corps).

I found it interesting that her service was from the 1928 Book of Common Prayer, rather than being a Rite 1 (or, heaven forbid, Rite 2) service from the 1979 BCP. It was strictly the burial office with no requiem Mass. The hymns were all so familiar, being solid Anglican hymns (very solid, especially since the organist registered the foundation stops very heavily) like St. Anne (O God our help from ages past), Toplady (Rock of Ages), Hyfrydol (Love divine, all loves excelling), and Rest (Dear Lord and Father of mankind). A bagpiper piped the coffin out of the church after the service to New Britain (Amazing Grace).

The Men of the Choir (the boys aren't back in school yet) did the Funeral Sentences, used a Walford Davies Anglican chant setting for the psalm, and sang Thomas Tallis' Salvador mundi salva nos as the anthem. I really must get to St. Thomas sometime to hear the choir in person, since I've not heard Sir John Scott, the "new" conductor, and the last time I was at St. Thomas, Gerre Hancock was still there.

I missed the prelude, though I understand it was all Bach. The postlude, which I'm hearing right now, is the Widor "Toccata" (from Symphonie V), which is being played at at interesting fast yet virtuosic pace. It's fabulous hearing it played on that big, thunderous organ at St. Thomas.

Anyway, requiescat in pace, Mrs. Astor. You provided us with a wonderful example of social deportment and philanthropic behavior, and you bridged the gap from the days of the wealthy robber barons, across the Great Depression, and into the 20th century. Thank you.

The BVM

Yesterday was the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary or the Feast of St. Mary the Virgin, depending upon the catholicity of ones feelings about the role of Mary in the Church. Laurent, Ryan, and I went to St. Paul's K Street for their evening Procession and Solemn Mass.

After the introit chant, the choir and clergy processed around the church, first to the hymn Salve Regina Coelitum (Hail, Holy Queen enthroned above—remember the tune from Sister Act?), and then after a collect at the Lady Altar, to Parry's Rustington (Sing we of the blessed Mother). Other hymns for the evening were Willan (Hail Mary, full of grace) as the sequence, Mater Amabilis (Ave, Maria! O Maiden, O Mother) after communion, and then Daily, daily (Ye who own the faith of Jesus) as the recessional. My friend John, the new organist, was singing alto in choir, and at the organ was the organist from the Washington National Cathedral (who was quite fond of the tuba mirabilis in the narthex antiphonal division).

They did Mozart's Spatzen-Messe, KV 220 for the Mass setting. I liked the setting, although I do believe the Benedictus was longer than the Gloria! The choir sang Robert Parson's "Ave Maria" setting for the offertory anthem, and the Agnus Dei from the Mass setting served as the communion motet. Anglican chant for the psalm was by Edgar F. Day.

Fr. Milton Williams from St. Timothy's, and a former seminarian at K Street, served as guest preacher. He was entertaining, and one can tell that he used to be Southern Baptist.

There was, alas, no reception or wine and cheese after the Mass. I was surprised.

Here's a bad video of the offertory anthem, for those who like English Reformation music. Sorry the audio is garbled....something is happening on the upload to YouTube....we're working on the problem.

Singing in Latin

"Many of these chants became all but forgotten by two generations of Catholics who were swept up in well-meaning but sometimes overzealous efforts in past decades to require constant innovation in liturgy."

Yep. That's what it says in the parish newsletter. I went to the evening Mass at St. Stephen's tonight because they are starting to do the Mass setting in Latin using the traditional Gregorian chants (or at least the updated chants as they appear in the Worship III hymnal). They're adding another section every Sunday....tonight they did the Gloria, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei. They plan to add the Kyrie and......the Credo!

Everything was a capella tonight, including the hymns. The morning cantoress was there tonight, so with her strong singing, she actually got people to sing heartily for the processional (Forest Green "Your hands, O Lord in days of old" (tune reminded me of Christmas)) and recessional (Thaxted "O God beyond all praising") hymns. The offertory (Sharpthorne "What does the Lord require") was another matter. Two or three people sang that I could hear, but the whispery noises they were making I would hardly call tuneful. And the communion marching music ("God, Your glory we have seen in Your Christ") was so not sung by the congregation that you could hear crickets.

The psalm antiphon was a setting by Leo Nestor and for the memorial acclamation and great amen they used the Proulx A Community Mass setting.

Msgr. Filardi celebrated and preached. He had a guest concelebrant with him today who's a priest from the West Bank of Israel. There was a second collection tonight, and no announcement of its purpose, so I'm going to guess it was going to the visiting priest's ministries.

It will be interesting to see how the Sunday evening Mass proceeds. I think they're planning to put together some kind of chant choir to support the Mass, and that could be interesting.

Gilding the sky

Ever since my first visit well over two years ago, I've reported that it seems as though the majority of the congregation at St. Paul's K Street is either geriatric or gay (or both); this morning, I confirmed that suspicion. In the opening hymn (When morning gilds the sky), there was a phrase that goes, "When evening shadows fall, this rings my curfew call, may Jesus Christ be praised!" Well, I heard from singing parishioners in multiple locations not "this rings my curfew call," but "this rings my curtain call."

Theater fags.

Anyway, I made a special point to go to K Street this morning, because this was John's first official Sunday as the new organist and assistant music director, and we're so happy to have him there! He played stunningly this morning, and the choir he directed sounded beautiful and well-balanced. The new interim music director has been selected—a Brit, surprise surprise LOL—but he won't get here until at least the end of the month (as soon as his visa clears the embassy in London), so John gets to do both jobs for the time being.

Today's organ prelude was "Adagio in E minor" by Frank Bridge. The postlude was "Flourish for an Occasion" by William Henry Harris. You can tell John did his masters at Indiana.

Hymns were the aforementioned Laudes Domini for the processional, Wachet auf (Praise the Lord through every nation) for the sequence, Herr Jesu Christ (O saving Victim) for post-communion, and Winchester New (Before the Lord's eternal throne) for the recessional.

The choir sang the a capella Palestrina Missa Brevis for the Mass setting. They also did "Christ whose glory fills the sky" (not the hymn tune) by T. Frederick H. Candlyn for the offertory anthem and "O nata Lux de lumine" by Thomas Tallis for the communion motet. They did an Anglican chant by James Turle for the psalm setting.

Back already

Quiet day at the early Mass at St. Stephen this morning. No choir. Hymns were Bunessan (Praise and thanksgiving) for the processional, Wareham (O Jesus, joy of loving hearts) for the offertory, and Darwall's 148th (To God with gladness sing) for the recessional. All very nicely Anglican. The communion marching music was a responsorial "The Lord is my light and my salvation," a familiar antiphon tune that was oddly ignored by the congregation (sometimes when the ditty is familiar, a few will softly sing along). Sleepy homily dissecting the Lord's Prayer (from this morning's Gospel), so I perused the hymnal.

The eye candy was pretty substantial this morning. Highly distracting. Yes, indeed. Very.

Substitute Sunday

You can tell it's summertime and vacation time. This morning, the resident priests and the organist/choirmaster were all on vacation, so we had a substitute priest and a substitute organist.

Since I went to the nine o'clock this morning, I guess the organist had just arrived, so she and the cantoress were going over some of the service music, and, surprisingly, playing some of it on the organ. It's always interesting to hear the Gloria as the prelude! Once they'd looked at the service music, the organist did some "filler" type prelude music, and it was quickly apparent to me that she was not Catholic, Episcopalian, or Lutheran. She had a tremolo going (there's no vibrato stop on that particular organ, so she must have been playing with the Vox Humana against some of the foundation stops) and she seemed to be improvising on what I can only surmise was a "gospel" hymn. She was pretty good for a non-Catholic substitute, though, as she played all of the stuff at the right time and didn't screw anything up. She didn't improvise as much in the "dead spaces" as does the usual organist, but in some parishes, it's normal to play only the hymns and the service music and not do filler. She did "fill," though, after the offertory and communion hymns, and once again, I had that "Protestant" impression and I was reminded of some of the small town funeral home organists I've heard.

Hymns today were Ellecombe (I sing the mighty power of God) for the processional, Sharpthorne (What does the Lord require) for the offertory, and Grosser Gott (Holy God we praise thy name) for the recessional. The particularly not-sung-by-the-congregation responsorial communion hymn marching music was "I received the living God and my heart is full of joy." You know, since the cantors/cantoresses end up singing these things by themselves anyway, I don't know why they just don't let them sing a decent song that's actually meant to be a solo. Service music was the usual summer hodge-podge.

There's no choir at the nine, so there weren't any anthems. I noticed they'd slated William Byrd's "Ave Verum" for a communion motet at the eleven.

The visiting priest, Fr. Casey, was very gregarious. He kept things moving, and I liked that. He also chose to deliver his homily from the center of the pace by the first row of pews instead of hiding behind the ambo (lecturn). He preached on the idea of taking time to listen for God in the midst of all our modern, fast-paced lives.

I noticed one interesting thing in the parish newsletter this morning. They are going to start singing the Mass settings in Latin at the 5:30 Sunday afternoon Mass, though they were careful to point out that the Mass itself would still be said in English. That tall, cute seminarian was there again today, too. What a shame that he's off the market!

Making the paper

I made the parish newsletter! The pastor always writes a weekly pastoral letter that takes up most of the front page of the newsletter. Today, it started off with "Walking past me after Sunday Mass a parishioner asked, 'So, Father, when are we going to have a Latin Mass?' I am not sure if he was being sarcastic or sincere, but no doubt he was alluding to Pope Benedict's recent letter, Summorum Pontificum, in which he allows a greater use of the Mass as celebrated before 1970." Alas, though, in talking about the Tridentine Mass, he goes on to say, "I must admit, because [of] its requirements of precision and movement, even if inclined, I am not trained to offer this Mass properly."

Mass today was actually kind of nice. The choir quartet was, once again, in surprisingly excellent form, doing a lovely job on Harold Friedell's "Draw Us in the Spirit's Tether" as the communion motet, and having an amazingly audible descant for the processional hymn (remember, this was a quartet). They really do so well when they sing Anglican literature! (Last week, they sounded good, too, doing Vaughn-Williams' "O How Amiable.")

Hymns today sounded interestingly similar, especially the offertory and recessional. For the processional, they did Leoni (The perfect law of God) with descant, the offertory Wareham (This is my will, my one command), and the recessional Sweet Sacrament (Jesus my Lord, my God, my All). The organist/choir master wrote a new third verse for Sweet Sacrament, "As we go forth from this, Thy house, Slay us with love and charity. Thine is the earth and stars and sun, Let now our hearts, Thine also be."

During communion marching music, the responsorial hymn was the ever-saccharine "God is love, and where true love is" with the Proulx antiphon, but they actually had more than the choir singing today! There was a lady a few pews behind me who was singing along lustily, but, let's just say she was making a joyful "noise" to the Lord.

Mass setting was the same as last week. Msgr. Filardi preached on today's Good Samaritan Gospel reading.

More Latin

Everyone was all abuzz this morning at Mass about the pope's recent announcement loosening the restrictions on parish use of the traditional pre-Vatican II Tridentine Mass. The Tridentine Mass is the old Latin rite, and for the past thirty years, parishes have had to have specific permission from their bishops to use it, and that permission has been scant. Under the new rules, the pastor of a parish can decide to use the Tridentine service to meet the pastoral needs of his parish. So, given the fact that nearly two generations of Catholics haven't used the Latin rite, I really don't expect any parish to go 100% Tridentine, or even for every parish to offer a Latin Mass. But, it'll be nice to hear the Latin again.

On the way out after Mass, I asked the celebrant when he was going to start using the Latin, and he and the seminarian standing with him said maybe after September 14....apparently all of the priests have to go to school to get trained on how to do the services and how to pronounce the Latin correctly! LOL

Anyway, there were a lot of people in Mass this morning, a bit of a surprise for a July Sunday.

The Mass setting for today was basically the Proulx A Community Mass with the Gloria from Hurd's New Plainsong Mass, traditional plainsong for the Kyrie, Gospel alleluia, and Exaudi Christe; Isele's Holy Cross Mass for the Agnus Dei, and Gouzes' Non sum dignus.

Hymns were Crucifer for the processional, Hyfrdol (Those who love and those who labor) for the offertory, and Abbot's Leigh for the recessional. The choir did a responsorial communion hymn with Christopher Willcock's "Taste and see" antiphon.

The choir did a surprisingly nice job singing Vaughn-Williams' "O How Amiable" as a post-communion motet. I wasn't expecting much, since the summer schola is only a quartet, but this anthem sounded pretty good. The only thing I noticed was they cut the St. Anne (O God our help in ages past) verse at the end, but that was probably to shorten the piece, as the priest had already sat down and everyone was waiting. This is why back when I was cantoring, I always did the anthem first and then the communion hymn, since I didn't mind cutting the hymn if we didn't need that much filler music.

New organist

Whilst sitting in the pews perusing the service leaflet and the parish newsletter this morning, I found the very formal announcement that my friend John had been engaged as organist of the parish. How exciting! What was particularly fun, though, was during the Peace, I discovered him sitting just two pews behind me.

The Mass setting this morning at St. Paul's was Communion Service in E-flat (Missa de Santo Albano) by Healey Willan, all sung by the choir. The choir also did the Anglican chant for the psalm, this time a chant by Edward Bairstow. The congregation joined in chanting the Creed and the Lord's Prayer, as always, plus the usual responses.

Opening hymn was Oriel (To the Name of our salvation), Bourbon (Take up your cross) was the sequence, Picardy (Let all mortal flesh) showed up as the post-communion ablutions hymn, and the recessional hymn was all six verses of Coronation (All hail the power of Jesus' name).

For the offertory, the choir sang "O God, thou art my God" by Henry Purcell. It included a closing alleluia section that was the familiar melody from the hymn Westminster Abbey. The communion motet was "Tantum ergo Sacramentum" by Maurice Duruflé. Duruflé also composed the postlude today, Fugue sur le thème du carillon des heures de la cathédral de Soissons, Op. 12. The prelude had been "After an Old French Air" by Percy Whitlock.

There was sherry in the parish hall after Mass.

Drizzly feast days

The remnants of that tropical storm have moved up the Atlantic coast and D.C. is getting a constant drizzle from it. Nothing hard, but enough that I needed an umbrella this morning lest I get wet on the walk to church. I've not done laundry in a month, so all my casual clothes were dirty and I had to put on a jacket and tie, thus I landed at St. Paul's K Street (one can dress like a slob at Catholic Masses, but a gentleman must be properly attired at an Episcopal service).

Today is the Feast of the Most Holy and Undivided Trinity. Naturally, they opened the service with the well-known hymn Nicaea (Holy, holy, holy). Other hymns included Rustington (Round the Lord in glory seated) for the sequence and Shipston (Firmly I believe and truly) post-communion. For the Mass setting, they did Paul Callaway's Communion Service in D, sung in unison by the congregation. Anglican chant by Richard Farrant, also sung by all in unison, accompanied the psalm.

The women and girls of the choir sang "Give ear unto me, Lord" by Benedetto Marcello as the offertory anthem and "Duo seraphim clamabant alter ad alterum" by Richard Dering as the communion motet. The basses and tenors got to sit around this morning. I think they are singing Evensong tonight with the boys, though.

The fun part of the Mass happened after the post-communion prayer and final blessing when the entire choir and congregation sang the plainsong version of the Te Deum not only with full festal organ, but with two well-stoked thuribles up in the sanctuary generating billowing clouds of smoke.

Having sung all the Te Deum, there was no recessional hymn, and the altar party departed during the postlude, Bach's "Fuga a 5 con pedale pro Organo pleno," BWV 552/2 ("St. Anne").

There's big news at St. Paul's today, too. Music director Mark Dwyer is resigning at the end of the summer to become organist/choirmaster at Church of the Advent in Boston. And organist Scott Dettra is leaving this summer to become organist at the National Cathedral. We should be getting a new organist soon; they're planning an international search for the music director's post, predicting it'll take about a year.

Then I walked home in the rain.

Happy Whitmonday!

This is Whitmonday, the day after Whitsunday.

What in the world am I talking about? Whitsunday is one of the great, ancient feast days of the Church, occurring fifty days after Easter. Whitmonday used to be a public holiday in England, but, alas, they've been forced into something like our Monday Holiday Bill, and now it's the last Monday of May (which coincides with Whitmonday this year).

So, what is it? Outside of England, Whitsuntide is known as the season of Pentecost. Depending upon the flavor of church, yesterday was either the Solemnity of Pentecost or the Feast of Pentecost. And yet, what is Pentecost, you say?

Pentecost is the observance of the events described in the Acts of the Apostles, a book in the Christian New Testament and Bible, where the followers of the recently executed Jesus were gathered in a room, the room filled with the rushing winds, and tongues of fire descended upon each of them. This was interpreted as the time when the Holy Spirit descended upon each of them, filling them and giving each of them the ability to speak in other languages.

This has a lot of symbolism for the modern Church, especially the idea of baptism by fire and the "gift of tongues," leading many in the charismatic branches of the church to demonstrate their faith by mumbling the unintelligible gibberish they call "speaking in tongues."

But, what I like to focus on and think about is the rushing wind; it's an important symbol usually overlooked in the idea of Pentecost. Let's look at the second chapter of Acts, verse two. In the New American Bible (the Catholic version), it says, "And suddenly there came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind, and it filled the entire house in which they were." In the King James Version (the Protestant version), it says, "And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting."

While we're thinking about Bible verses, let me throw out another passage, and I'll explain the link later. Here are the first two verses of the Gospel according to St. John. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God." (KJV) "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God." (NAB)

Now, there's one more think I want to throw out. I'm big on looking at "original source material" when doing scholarly research—it's the professor in me—so when talking about Biblical matters, I want to study the Aramaic, Hebrew, and Greek that were the original languages of the written books of the Bible. Most of the New Testament, especially John and Acts, originally were written in Greek. When we look at the Greek here, as it talks about the Holy Spirit, the Greek doesn't use the word for "spirit," or even "ghost," as it was commonly translated by the Jacobean English. It uses the word πνεύμα, pronounced "pneuma." You may be familiar with pneuma as the root word for things like "pneumatic" or "pneumonia." "Pneuma" means "breath." We don't have as a part of the Holy Trinity a holy spirit or ghost or spector, we have a "Holy Breath." The Breath of God.

Think of all the ways the Breath of God comes into our lives. If you look at the quote above from John, how is the word—language—carried? On the breath. When we give someone artificial respiration, what do we do? We breathe into them and fill them with our breath. When someone dies, what happens? Their breath leaves them, sometimes quite dramatically. Even with tongues of fire, what does fire need to keep burning? Oxygen/air/wind/breath. With this emphasis on breath and wind, it's easy to see how early man attributed wind storms, tornados, and hurricanes as expressions of displeasure of the god(s). We also have that wind in the overall concept of our idllyic settings—the breeze gently rustling through the trees or keeping the palms trees gently swaying—whereby our environment and life is filled with the Holy Breath.

People for millennia have asked the questions about what makes Man animate, intelligent, and special. They have developed the concept of a "soul" for Man. Those in the Abramaic tradition—Jews, Christians, and Muslims—believe that it is the "soul" that makes Man better than other animals and why only humans and not other animals go to Heaven (no, Virginia, all dogs do NOT go to heaven). This idea of Man being filled with some special energy or force or breath is not unique to the Abramaic religions. It appears in religious traditions all over the world, whether it be the "spirit" in all living things of many American Indian tribes or the ancient Egyptian ka that provided the life force for all living things (the motivation for mummies was so the ka could reunite with the physical body in the afterworld). Is all of this just different manifestations of the concept of the Holy Breath?

Thus, all of this brings us around to the idea of creation stories. Let's look again at the Bible, this time, the first few verses of Genesis. "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said...." (KJV) "In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss, while a mighty wind swept over the waters. Then God said...." (NAB) There it is again, the Breath as Spirit and Wind and Word, in our very creation.

This is what Pentecost is all about. Sure, it's a celebration of Jesus's followers receiving the Holy Spirit, but, to me at least, it is, more importantly, a Feast of the Holy Spirit.

_________________________

Yesterday I celebrated the Solemnity of Pentecost by going to the nine o'clock Mass at St. Stephen Martyr. Since the choir performs at the eleven o'clock, this was just a cantored Mass with organ.

The processional hymn was Lambillotte (Come, Holy Ghost, Creator blest), Veni Sancte Spiritus, Mode I plainsong, was the sequence hymn, Down Ampney (Come down, O Love divine) was the offertory hymn, Dieu, Nous Avons Vu Ta Gloire (God, Your glory we have seen in Your Christ) was the communion hymn, and Nun komme der Heiden Heiland (Fire of God, undying flame) was the recessional hymn.

They did Martin How's Parish Communion Service Gloria, Howard Hughes' Mass of the Divine Word for all the Sanctus and communion acclamations, and plainsong chants for the Kyrie and Agnus Dei. The psalm antiphon and the Gospel acclamation were compositions of the organist/choirmaster.

Monsignor was celebrant and homilist. I've no idea what he said in the homily, since I wasn't listening. It was no fault of his; I just immediately grabbed a hymnal when he started because I wanted to look up some things, and that occupied the homily time. I did notice, though, that when we was at the ambo (a/k/a pulpit), the lighting there made his red chasuble glow. An interesting analogy to the fire theme of the day, eh?