What better place to observe the solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary than at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception?
I went to the Basilica at noon today to hear the Archbishop of Washington say Mass and preach. It's a holy day of obligation for Catholics; the jury is still out in the Episcopal Church as to whether or not we believe in this Romish doctrine (my usual parish on K Street observes the day, but there are no special Masses and it's on the calendar as just the "Conception of the BVM;" I guess we like the occasion for a party but we don't want to commit to the doctrine).
Anyway, the basilica—the largest Catholic church in the country—was full and the television cameras were rolling for a national broadcast on the EWTV network (Mother Angelica's network). They had all the bells and smells of a solemn high Mass with full choir and the archbishop being assisted by about a dozen concelebrating priests.
Hymns today were "Come, let us worship" by Anthony Corvaia for the processional (all nine verses—but they needed the time by the time the altar got smoked), "The God whom earth and sea and sky" (Eisenach) at the offertory, a setting of the Magnificat by Leo Nestor during communion, and "Immaculate Mary, your praises we sing" (Lourdes Hymn) for the recessional. For the Ordinary of the Mass, they used Richard Proulx's Mass for the City setting during the Consecration, and both a Gloria and an Agnus Dei by Gerald Near. The Kyrie and Lord's Prayer were Gregorian chant.
The choir did an uncited introit based on Isaiah 61:10 and a communion antiphon that both started off as chant and ended up being interestingly modern in tonality. They also sang two Ave Marias, one by Tomás Luis de Victoria for the offertory anthem and a lovely rendition of Rachmaninoff's setting from the All-Night Vespers as a post-communion motet. The choir sounded fine today, but as always, I am disconcerted by the basilica's tradition of miking the choir, which allows individual voices to stick out and keeps us from enjoying the full ambiance of sound in the highly reverberant marble cavern that is the basilica. I saw my friend Ted up there singing tenor today.
The organist offered Ave maris stella by Girolamo Frescobaldi as the prelude and Magnificat en Sol Majeur by Jean-François Dandrieu as the postlude.
Today also happens to be the patronal feast day of the basilica parish. They also make a big deal out of it because the Immaculate Conception of Mary is the patron saint of the United States of America. Each year, the basilica, in conjunction with the Catholic University of America, presents a patronal medal award to someone for the "advancement of Marian devotion." After communion, they presented this year's award to Msgr. Paul Lenz, the retired former national director of the church's Black and Indian Mission Office. He also served as vice-postulator for the canonization cause of Blessed Kateri Tekawitha to become the first Catholic American Indian saint. What a coincidence that they would honor an Indian missionary on this day; as I was walking in to the church, my Blackberry was buzzing with the news alerts that the longstanding Cobell v. Salazar Indian trust litigation case had been settled this morning.
So, I'm good for another holy day. That should cover me til Christmas.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Advent 2
Yesterday I felt adventurous, so I decided to try a new church. Well, the church was new to me; the parish was founded in 1712, and their current building has portions dating back to both 1721 and 1775. As far as I can tell, this is the oldest Episcopal parish in what is now the District of Columbia (keeping in mind that the District wasn't created until 1790!).
St. Paul's Rock Creek Parish is a small colonial building in the midst of a large cemetery. The cemetery fills up most of the original glebe of the parish (in colonial times, a "glebe" was land given to a church to support the minister through rents or agricultural bounty). Being one of the oldest cemeteries in the District, it is the final resting place of a number of interesting notables including author Upton Sinclair, the inventor of Wonderbread, Teddy Roosevelt's daughter Alice, the Duchess of Windsor's mother, Alexander Graham Bell's father, Douglas McArthur's grandfather, Edgar Allen Poe's sister, and numerous Supreme Court justices and Cabinet secretaries.
The remaining colonial aspect of the church seems to be limited mainly to external walls, the bell tower, and the interior layout. Due to a fire in the 1920s, the stained glass windows, pews, and ecclessiastical furnishings are all contemporary. In fact, I was struck by how shiny and new everything inside the building looks. Current refurbishments have created a colonial meeting house-style worship space that is essentially a wide rectangle with a small apse containing the altar and organ on the long side opposite the entry doors. A tiny chapel for the reserved sacrament is to the left of the sanctuary area. To the right is a wide passageway to the sacristy. Illumination is accomplished with tall stained glass windows and very large early American design brass chandeliers. The walls are whitewashed and the floors are white marble.
Music and liturgy for the service were quite euphonious. While they are exclusively a Rite 2 parish, the liturgy was dignified and done in a moderately high church style. The celebrant processed in a lovely deep blue chasuble with an assisting priest in alb and (turquoise!) stole serving as deacon and a layreader in girdled alb serving as subdeacon. The choir wore red cassocks with surplices. A verger led the processions.
Given the Rite 2 wording and use of eucharistic prayer D, I was pleasantly surprised to hear Healy Willan's well-known setting for the Ordinary of the Mass. The congregation sang standard Advent hymns from The Hymnal 1982, including "Blest be the King" (Valet will ich geben), "On Jordan's bank" (Winchester New), "There's a voice in the wilderness crying" (Ascension), and "Prepare the way, O Zion" (Bereden väg för Herran). The choir did Canticle 16 to Anglican chant in lieu of a Psalm.
The choir, an octet, sang three anthems. For the introit, they did Palestrina's "I look from afar;" at the offertory, "And the glory of the Lord" from Handel's Messiah; and as a communion motet, Thomas Campion's "Never weather-beaten sail." When the choir processed in, I had to do a double-take, because one of the tenors looks just like my friend Brian in New York.
As all too frequently happens with D.C. smaller parishes, they got way too chummy during the passing of the peace, and many people wandered around greeting people on the opposite side of the room from where they'd been sitting. I greeted those in my immediate vicinity and sat down; strangers kept coming up to me to chat, though, and I kept having to stand up again.
The parish offers gluten-free wafers upon request during Communion. For some reason, that struck me as quite humorous. The communion wine tasted like Gallo port.
The rectoress preached about twelve minutes. The entire service lasted about seventy-five minutes.
All in all, it was a very reasonable worship experience, and I would not be averse to visiting them again.
St. Paul's Rock Creek Parish is a small colonial building in the midst of a large cemetery. The cemetery fills up most of the original glebe of the parish (in colonial times, a "glebe" was land given to a church to support the minister through rents or agricultural bounty). Being one of the oldest cemeteries in the District, it is the final resting place of a number of interesting notables including author Upton Sinclair, the inventor of Wonderbread, Teddy Roosevelt's daughter Alice, the Duchess of Windsor's mother, Alexander Graham Bell's father, Douglas McArthur's grandfather, Edgar Allen Poe's sister, and numerous Supreme Court justices and Cabinet secretaries.
The remaining colonial aspect of the church seems to be limited mainly to external walls, the bell tower, and the interior layout. Due to a fire in the 1920s, the stained glass windows, pews, and ecclessiastical furnishings are all contemporary. In fact, I was struck by how shiny and new everything inside the building looks. Current refurbishments have created a colonial meeting house-style worship space that is essentially a wide rectangle with a small apse containing the altar and organ on the long side opposite the entry doors. A tiny chapel for the reserved sacrament is to the left of the sanctuary area. To the right is a wide passageway to the sacristy. Illumination is accomplished with tall stained glass windows and very large early American design brass chandeliers. The walls are whitewashed and the floors are white marble.
Music and liturgy for the service were quite euphonious. While they are exclusively a Rite 2 parish, the liturgy was dignified and done in a moderately high church style. The celebrant processed in a lovely deep blue chasuble with an assisting priest in alb and (turquoise!) stole serving as deacon and a layreader in girdled alb serving as subdeacon. The choir wore red cassocks with surplices. A verger led the processions.
Given the Rite 2 wording and use of eucharistic prayer D, I was pleasantly surprised to hear Healy Willan's well-known setting for the Ordinary of the Mass. The congregation sang standard Advent hymns from The Hymnal 1982, including "Blest be the King" (Valet will ich geben), "On Jordan's bank" (Winchester New), "There's a voice in the wilderness crying" (Ascension), and "Prepare the way, O Zion" (Bereden väg för Herran). The choir did Canticle 16 to Anglican chant in lieu of a Psalm.
The choir, an octet, sang three anthems. For the introit, they did Palestrina's "I look from afar;" at the offertory, "And the glory of the Lord" from Handel's Messiah; and as a communion motet, Thomas Campion's "Never weather-beaten sail." When the choir processed in, I had to do a double-take, because one of the tenors looks just like my friend Brian in New York.
As all too frequently happens with D.C. smaller parishes, they got way too chummy during the passing of the peace, and many people wandered around greeting people on the opposite side of the room from where they'd been sitting. I greeted those in my immediate vicinity and sat down; strangers kept coming up to me to chat, though, and I kept having to stand up again.
The parish offers gluten-free wafers upon request during Communion. For some reason, that struck me as quite humorous. The communion wine tasted like Gallo port.
The rectoress preached about twelve minutes. The entire service lasted about seventy-five minutes.
All in all, it was a very reasonable worship experience, and I would not be averse to visiting them again.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Happy New Year!
An Advent Procession with Lessons and Carols
St. Paul's Parish–K Street, Washington, D.C.
Sunday 29 November 2009
St. Paul's Parish–K Street, Washington, D.C.
Sunday 29 November 2009
Matin Responsory: "I look from afar," music by Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina.
Choir Hymn: "Come, thou Redeemer of the earth," Puer nobis nascitur (adapt. Michael Praetorius).
Invitatory: "Come, thou long-expected Jesus," music by Robert McCormick (b. 1978).
First Lesson: Zechariah 2:10–13
Motet: "Vigilate, nescitis enim quando dominus domus veniat," music by William Byrd.
Responsorial Hymn: "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," Veni Emmanuel.
Second Lesson: Isaiah 11:1–10
Anthem: "Never weather-beaten sail," music by C. Hubert H. Parry (from Songs of Farewell).
Third Lesson: Isaiah 40:1–8
Congregational Hymn: "On Jordan's bank the Baptist's cry," Winchester New.
Anthem: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me," music by Edward Elgar (prologue to The Apostles, Op. 49).
Fourth Lesson: Baruch 4:36–5:9
Congregational Hymn: "Hark! A thrilling voice is sounding," Merton.
Anthem: "Creator of the stars of night," music by Malcolm Archer (b. 1952).
Fifth Lesson: Luke 1:26–38
Choir Carol: "Angelus ad Virginem subintrans in conclave," 13th century melody, arr. Andrew Carter (b. 1939).
Sixth Lesson: Jeremiah 31:31–34
Congregational Hymn: "Rejoice! Rejoice, believers," Llangloffan.
Anthem: "O sing unto the Lord a new song" (Psalm 96), music by James MacMillan (b. 1959).
Seventh Lesson: Revelation 21:5–7; 22:12–13, 20
Congregational Hymn: "Wake, awake, for night is flying," Wachet auf.
Vesper Responsory: "Judah and Jerusalem, fear not, not be dismayed," Tone III; falsobordone attr. to Palestrina.
Congregational Hymn: "Lo! he comes, with clouds descending," Helmsley.
Organ Voluntary: Toccata on Veni Emmanuel by Andrew Carter (b. 1939).
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Happy new year! It's the first Sunday of Advent, and the first day of the Church's liturgical year. We observed the day by going to the always-wonderful lessons and carols service at St. Paul's K Street. As usual, the church was packed half an hour before the service started.
The two highlights for me in the service were two anthems with which I was not familiar. First was a newish anthem by the contemporary Scot composer James MacMillan called "O sing unto the Lord a new song." It was very modern in its tonality, yet quite pleasant. I detected bits and pieces of the influence of fellow British composer John Taverner in some of the harmonies. The second anthem was Edward Elgar's Prologue to The Apostles, Op. 49, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me." As is typical of Elgar, it had that touch of melancholy about it whilst still maintaining his British sense of pageantry.
The choir made an interesting journey during the service. They began the Matin Responsory out in the atrium, where they had a "distant" sound to those of us in the nave. Then, they moved to the narthex for a while. Eventually they processed up and stood on the chancel steps. Later, they moved into the choir stalls. Towards the end of the service, they moved into the sanctuary and stood on the altar steps. And, finally, they processed out down the center aisle during the recessional hymn. I suppose there was some sort of allegorical significance to their relocations, but it evaded my simple little mind.
Oh, did I mention the wonderfully obnoxious antiphonal 8' tuba mirabilis on the final hymn? LOL
My only less-than-positive observation about the service is that the parish is mixing their girls and boys in a treble choir, and the presence of the girls totally changes the timbre and purity of the traditional boys' voices. I know it's politically correct these days to let the girls sing, too, but the musical sound just isn't the same.
After the service, we went upstairs to the parish hall for wine and snacks. Twas a lovely evening and a nice start to our season of Advent, preparing us for Christmas later next month.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Ad Orientem
Which way do you pray?
Many religions have various traditions about prayer, whether it be posture or direction. Examples include Muslims, who pray facing in the direction of Mecca, or many tribal religions that look to the east facing the rising morning sun.
Frequent and long time readers have heard me explain how the early Christian church evolved from its Jewish roots, taking some aspects of Judaism, and some aspects of other competing religious traditions of the time, melding and adapting those traditions over time into Christian symbolism and allegory.
One of the things the early Church did was hold its services with the worshippers facing east, much like many of the pagan sun-worshipping religions, and they developed the doctrine that Jesus would make His promised return from the east. The celebrant (the priest leading the service) also faced east, the same way as the people in the congregation, standing on the west side of the altar. For centuries, the liturgical churches maintained this tradition of priest and people facing east during the sacrifice and offering of the Mass, symbolizing the constant watch of believers for the Second Coming. It also served the purpose of deemphasizing the priest as a "performer" or star leader, to avoid distracting the worshippers from their moment of communion with the divine.
This worship position of priest and people facing east is called ad orientem, a Latin phrase meaning "towards the east." Churches were constructed with the altar on the east end; for real estate lot considerations, modern churches often aren't built on the old Greek temple-style east-west axis, so they "pretend" the altar is in the east end of the building. Priests from liturgical churches said Mass, the Eucharist, the Divine Liturgy, or whatever they called it, ad orientem for nearly two thousand years until the Vatican II Council of the Roman Catholic Church of the early 1960s.
Vatican II, however, introduced the concept of the priest saying Mass versum populam, or "facing or against the people." They allowed (contrary to popular belief, it's an option, not a mandate) the priest to stand on the east side of the altar and face west towards the people. The reformers believed that it would allow the people to see what was going on during the consecration of the Bread and Wine and that modern culture required the additional personalization of leaders facing their flocks.
Soon after Vatican II, other liturgical churches began to follow suit, such as many of the Episcopal and Anglican churches. It's been about forty years, but it's still an issue that evokes some discussion and controversy, with some people preferring ad orientem and others preferring versum populam placement of their priests. The vast, vast majority of Catholic and Episcopal churches use versam populam orientation these days.
The current Roman pontiff, Benedict XVI, has during his papacy been encouraging his bishops and priests to draw from ancient liturgical and musical practice of the church, including a resurgence of the use of Latin and a return of chants and better liturgical music. Even I have been noticing liturgical and musical improvements at the cathedrals and larger parish churches around here.
Recently at one cathedral, the bishop opted to celebrate Mass during Advent using ad orientem posture, as a means of helping the congregation with its Advent introspection and preparation for the Christmas season, and deepening their devotions during the Mass. I'm anxious to hear what kind of response the bishop had from his congregations about the new posture for those four Sundays.
_______________
On Christ the King Sunday (yes, I'm two months behind in my blogging), I happened to be in Tulsa, so I went to Mass at Holy Family Cathedral, where a friend of mine is organist/choirmaster and several friends sing in the choir. I almost didn't recognize the place. I've not been there in four years, and they've painted the interior of the nave and sanctuary in bright, bold, colors. The cathedral is a 1914 structure in the Italian Gothic style, so I guess the paint on the inside is European inspired. The back of the sanctuary is deep burgundy, which really sets off the white marble altar and reredos. Other colors include red, green, yellow, beige, and gold leaf. Some pictures are in the cathedral blog....you can go to their Web page, then click the "current progress" hyperlink in the welcoming letter to get there.
The service itself was fine. Mass setting was the Proulx A Community Mass, and the Gloria was sung by everyone instead of responsorially as is usually done here in D.C. The Alleluia was Jacques Berthier's Taizé setting. Hymns were Coronation for the processional and Ich glaub an Gott for the recessional.
For the offertory anthem, the choir sang "Look, Ye Saints!" by William Witherup. During communion, the children sang O mysterium ineffabile by Jean Francoise Lallouette and the adults sang "The Lord Is My Shepherd" by Howard Goodall. PBS Britcom fans will recognize the Goodall composition as Psalm 23 from The Vicar of Dibley.
Prelude and postlude were "The King of Love My Shepherd Is" arranged by Eugene Englert and "Fugue on the Carillon of Hours of the Cathedral of Soisssons" by Maurice Durufle.
I just ran across the service leaflet for this Mass today, so that's why I'm writing about it now. I really need to email some of the Tulsa people and find out how the bishop's ad orientem experiment turned out.
Many religions have various traditions about prayer, whether it be posture or direction. Examples include Muslims, who pray facing in the direction of Mecca, or many tribal religions that look to the east facing the rising morning sun.
Frequent and long time readers have heard me explain how the early Christian church evolved from its Jewish roots, taking some aspects of Judaism, and some aspects of other competing religious traditions of the time, melding and adapting those traditions over time into Christian symbolism and allegory.
One of the things the early Church did was hold its services with the worshippers facing east, much like many of the pagan sun-worshipping religions, and they developed the doctrine that Jesus would make His promised return from the east. The celebrant (the priest leading the service) also faced east, the same way as the people in the congregation, standing on the west side of the altar. For centuries, the liturgical churches maintained this tradition of priest and people facing east during the sacrifice and offering of the Mass, symbolizing the constant watch of believers for the Second Coming. It also served the purpose of deemphasizing the priest as a "performer" or star leader, to avoid distracting the worshippers from their moment of communion with the divine.
This worship position of priest and people facing east is called ad orientem, a Latin phrase meaning "towards the east." Churches were constructed with the altar on the east end; for real estate lot considerations, modern churches often aren't built on the old Greek temple-style east-west axis, so they "pretend" the altar is in the east end of the building. Priests from liturgical churches said Mass, the Eucharist, the Divine Liturgy, or whatever they called it, ad orientem for nearly two thousand years until the Vatican II Council of the Roman Catholic Church of the early 1960s.
Vatican II, however, introduced the concept of the priest saying Mass versum populam, or "facing or against the people." They allowed (contrary to popular belief, it's an option, not a mandate) the priest to stand on the east side of the altar and face west towards the people. The reformers believed that it would allow the people to see what was going on during the consecration of the Bread and Wine and that modern culture required the additional personalization of leaders facing their flocks.
Soon after Vatican II, other liturgical churches began to follow suit, such as many of the Episcopal and Anglican churches. It's been about forty years, but it's still an issue that evokes some discussion and controversy, with some people preferring ad orientem and others preferring versum populam placement of their priests. The vast, vast majority of Catholic and Episcopal churches use versam populam orientation these days.
The current Roman pontiff, Benedict XVI, has during his papacy been encouraging his bishops and priests to draw from ancient liturgical and musical practice of the church, including a resurgence of the use of Latin and a return of chants and better liturgical music. Even I have been noticing liturgical and musical improvements at the cathedrals and larger parish churches around here.
Recently at one cathedral, the bishop opted to celebrate Mass during Advent using ad orientem posture, as a means of helping the congregation with its Advent introspection and preparation for the Christmas season, and deepening their devotions during the Mass. I'm anxious to hear what kind of response the bishop had from his congregations about the new posture for those four Sundays.
On Christ the King Sunday (yes, I'm two months behind in my blogging), I happened to be in Tulsa, so I went to Mass at Holy Family Cathedral, where a friend of mine is organist/choirmaster and several friends sing in the choir. I almost didn't recognize the place. I've not been there in four years, and they've painted the interior of the nave and sanctuary in bright, bold, colors. The cathedral is a 1914 structure in the Italian Gothic style, so I guess the paint on the inside is European inspired. The back of the sanctuary is deep burgundy, which really sets off the white marble altar and reredos. Other colors include red, green, yellow, beige, and gold leaf. Some pictures are in the cathedral blog....you can go to their Web page, then click the "current progress" hyperlink in the welcoming letter to get there.
The service itself was fine. Mass setting was the Proulx A Community Mass, and the Gloria was sung by everyone instead of responsorially as is usually done here in D.C. The Alleluia was Jacques Berthier's Taizé setting. Hymns were Coronation for the processional and Ich glaub an Gott for the recessional.
For the offertory anthem, the choir sang "Look, Ye Saints!" by William Witherup. During communion, the children sang O mysterium ineffabile by Jean Francoise Lallouette and the adults sang "The Lord Is My Shepherd" by Howard Goodall. PBS Britcom fans will recognize the Goodall composition as Psalm 23 from The Vicar of Dibley.
Prelude and postlude were "The King of Love My Shepherd Is" arranged by Eugene Englert and "Fugue on the Carillon of Hours of the Cathedral of Soisssons" by Maurice Durufle.
I just ran across the service leaflet for this Mass today, so that's why I'm writing about it now. I really need to email some of the Tulsa people and find out how the bishop's ad orientem experiment turned out.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Today's church
Popped over to the little neighborhood Episcopal parish this morning for church, since I wasn't in the mood to go off on an excursion around town to go someplace different. I slipped out right after communion, and it was 12:18; I'd go to this church a lot more if they didn't seem to think two hour-plus regular services were okay. Their problem? This morning, they spent 35 minutes passing the peace and doing announcements. Peace passing? Announcements? I'm not in the pews to be social.
When we look at the liturgy, we trace our passing of the peace to the Latin direction, Offerte vobis pacem, or, "Offer each other peace," in the Roman Catholic Mass. The General Instructions to the Roman Missal, which is the book that explains what is being done, why, and how it should be accomplished, admonishes, "It is appropriate that each one give the sign of peace only to those who are nearest and in a sober manner." It also notes that passing the peace is "optional." So, if and when we actually have to pass the peace, I don't want to have to shake hands with more than three or four people. I don't want to hug. I don't want to empty out of my pew and have to go greet dozens of people in the congregation. I don't want the priest to leave the sanctuary and come down to my pew to greet me. This isn't a time for a congregational chat. Unfortunately, a lot of "contemporary" parishes seem to think we need to interrupt our personal prayer and worship time with a Rotary club mixer.
Anyway, this was the first Sunday at this church that I really didn't like the music. They did a song called "Keep Your Lamps" arranged by Andre Thomas as the offertory anthem. This piece included accompaniment by the young white seminarian playing the bongos, in addition to the organist. Unfortunately, the choir had a hard time this morning agreeing on unison pitch, especially on the last note. That happens sometimes. Whatever, the song wasn't to my personal taste.
This parish has the tradition of doing a couple of unusual choir offerings. At the beginning, they did an uncredited song as an introit called "I sing the mighty power of God," and after communion, they were slated to do an "orison" called "Give Thanks" by Henry Smith. Personally, I would cut both of these in the interest of time.
The rest of the music was very standard, with Truro as the processional hymn, St. Petersburg as the sequence, and Land of Rest as the recessional. Scheduled communion hymns (I didn't stick around) were scheduled to be "It is well with my soul," "Great is Thy faithfulness," and "Lead me, guide me."
Mass setting was a mix, with Franz Schubert's Deutsche Messe settings of the sanctus and benedictus and the agnus Dei, Albert Hay Mallotte's "The Lord's Prayer," and David Hurd's New Plainsong Mass version of the fraction anthem.
The rector served as celebrant and homilist, and spent his 20 minute sermon illuminating the Gospel reading about the five wise and five foolish virgins and their oil lamps before a wedding feast, a parable that doesn't translate well to modern times and culture. I'm still confused.
When we look at the liturgy, we trace our passing of the peace to the Latin direction, Offerte vobis pacem, or, "Offer each other peace," in the Roman Catholic Mass. The General Instructions to the Roman Missal, which is the book that explains what is being done, why, and how it should be accomplished, admonishes, "It is appropriate that each one give the sign of peace only to those who are nearest and in a sober manner." It also notes that passing the peace is "optional." So, if and when we actually have to pass the peace, I don't want to have to shake hands with more than three or four people. I don't want to hug. I don't want to empty out of my pew and have to go greet dozens of people in the congregation. I don't want the priest to leave the sanctuary and come down to my pew to greet me. This isn't a time for a congregational chat. Unfortunately, a lot of "contemporary" parishes seem to think we need to interrupt our personal prayer and worship time with a Rotary club mixer.
Anyway, this was the first Sunday at this church that I really didn't like the music. They did a song called "Keep Your Lamps" arranged by Andre Thomas as the offertory anthem. This piece included accompaniment by the young white seminarian playing the bongos, in addition to the organist. Unfortunately, the choir had a hard time this morning agreeing on unison pitch, especially on the last note. That happens sometimes. Whatever, the song wasn't to my personal taste.
This parish has the tradition of doing a couple of unusual choir offerings. At the beginning, they did an uncredited song as an introit called "I sing the mighty power of God," and after communion, they were slated to do an "orison" called "Give Thanks" by Henry Smith. Personally, I would cut both of these in the interest of time.
The rest of the music was very standard, with Truro as the processional hymn, St. Petersburg as the sequence, and Land of Rest as the recessional. Scheduled communion hymns (I didn't stick around) were scheduled to be "It is well with my soul," "Great is Thy faithfulness," and "Lead me, guide me."
Mass setting was a mix, with Franz Schubert's Deutsche Messe settings of the sanctus and benedictus and the agnus Dei, Albert Hay Mallotte's "The Lord's Prayer," and David Hurd's New Plainsong Mass version of the fraction anthem.
The rector served as celebrant and homilist, and spent his 20 minute sermon illuminating the Gospel reading about the five wise and five foolish virgins and their oil lamps before a wedding feast, a parable that doesn't translate well to modern times and culture. I'm still confused.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Mass and a holy day all in one
Przemek insisted on going to the noon Mass at the Basilica again this weekend, when, what with the extra hour of daylight savings time sleep, this would have been a great chance to have gone to one of the earlier Masses at a different church around town. Turns out he wanted to go to confession again, as if his long confession last week (that made him late to Mass) wasn't enough. Now, Przemek is the very definition of innocence and naïveté, so I can't imagine whatever he must have done to warrant the need for another absolution, and my curiosity is piqued since he blushed so when I asked him what he'd done this past week.
They were celebrating the solemnity of All Souls today at the basilica. The highlight of the Mass was the Fauré Requiem, which they managed to work in as the Mass setting for most of the service (though once again, they defaulted to Hurd's New Plainsong Mass for the great thanksgiving and the consecration. Then for post-communion ablutions, the choir did Fauré's Cantique de Jean Racine. They rounded out the francophile service with a French composer for the prelude, Jean Berveller and his Épitaphe.
Hymns today were "O Lord, to Whom the spirits live" (familiar words but to a traditional sounding hymn tune I didn't know) for the processional and "I know that my Redeemer lives" to Duke Street for the recessional.
What is shocking at the basilica are the gift shops. As you may know from previous posts, they have two stores downstairs. One is more of a bookstore with books and music and the other is all the rest of religious oriented bric-a-brac. Well, I walked in, and the giftshop was playing a contemporary version of "Little Drummer Boy" and when I went to the bookstore, they were playing "Gesu Bambino." It's not even Advent yet and they are playing Christmas music in church!
They were celebrating the solemnity of All Souls today at the basilica. The highlight of the Mass was the Fauré Requiem, which they managed to work in as the Mass setting for most of the service (though once again, they defaulted to Hurd's New Plainsong Mass for the great thanksgiving and the consecration. Then for post-communion ablutions, the choir did Fauré's Cantique de Jean Racine. They rounded out the francophile service with a French composer for the prelude, Jean Berveller and his Épitaphe.
Hymns today were "O Lord, to Whom the spirits live" (familiar words but to a traditional sounding hymn tune I didn't know) for the processional and "I know that my Redeemer lives" to Duke Street for the recessional.
What is shocking at the basilica are the gift shops. As you may know from previous posts, they have two stores downstairs. One is more of a bookstore with books and music and the other is all the rest of religious oriented bric-a-brac. Well, I walked in, and the giftshop was playing a contemporary version of "Little Drummer Boy" and when I went to the bookstore, they were playing "Gesu Bambino." It's not even Advent yet and they are playing Christmas music in church!
Saturday, November 1, 2008
All Hallows' Eve Mass
St. Paul's K Street opted to hold their festival All Saints Day service on the eve of the day (All Hallows' Eve, you know), so I started off my Halloween evening in church. While they ended up with a full church, it wasn't packed and standing room only the way it often is. I suppose Halloween had a lot to do with that.
This was my first time to hear Robert McCormick, their new organist-choirmaster stolen this past summer from Smokey Mary's in New York City. He's interestingly young looking, even younger than his chronological age of thirty.
McCormick started off the service with Bach's Präludium und Fuge c-moll, BWV 546 as the prelude, then he played the opening hymns, first Sine Nomine (For all the saints) then Zeuch mich, zeuch mich (Who are these like stars appearing). It takes two hymns at St. Paul's since they do a full, formal, solemn procession around and about the church.
After a quick switch with John, he conducted the choir for the Mass setting while John played. They used Edward Bairstow's Communion Service in D, which, apparently, I've never done before, because I didn't recall the "spookiness" of it in places. The Agnus Dei became the communion motet.
Other hymns last night included "Ye Holy Angels Bright" to Darwall's 148th for the sequence, Land of Rest during the ablutions, and Lasst uns erfreuen for the recessional. The choir sang the psalm to Anglican chant by Charles Villiers Stanford, and both the Nicene Creed and Lord's Prayer were chanted by congregation and choir.
The offertory anthem was a lovely rendition of William H. Harris's "Faire Is the Heaven." He also got featured in the postlude, when John played his "Flourish for an Occasion."
The rector served as celebrant. Guest homilist was Father Wood from the Church of Ascension and St. Agnes.
They had a reception following the service where I ate too many deviled eggs and smoked salmon canapés washed down with shiraz wine. Fun fun.
Their construction project is coming along and should be done by the end of the month. They are waiting on the city to give them certificates of occupancy, though, and that can take a while. I'm anxious to see evetything when they get moved in to the new space.
This was my first time to hear Robert McCormick, their new organist-choirmaster stolen this past summer from Smokey Mary's in New York City. He's interestingly young looking, even younger than his chronological age of thirty.
McCormick started off the service with Bach's Präludium und Fuge c-moll, BWV 546 as the prelude, then he played the opening hymns, first Sine Nomine (For all the saints) then Zeuch mich, zeuch mich (Who are these like stars appearing). It takes two hymns at St. Paul's since they do a full, formal, solemn procession around and about the church.
After a quick switch with John, he conducted the choir for the Mass setting while John played. They used Edward Bairstow's Communion Service in D, which, apparently, I've never done before, because I didn't recall the "spookiness" of it in places. The Agnus Dei became the communion motet.
Other hymns last night included "Ye Holy Angels Bright" to Darwall's 148th for the sequence, Land of Rest during the ablutions, and Lasst uns erfreuen for the recessional. The choir sang the psalm to Anglican chant by Charles Villiers Stanford, and both the Nicene Creed and Lord's Prayer were chanted by congregation and choir.
The offertory anthem was a lovely rendition of William H. Harris's "Faire Is the Heaven." He also got featured in the postlude, when John played his "Flourish for an Occasion."
The rector served as celebrant. Guest homilist was Father Wood from the Church of Ascension and St. Agnes.
They had a reception following the service where I ate too many deviled eggs and smoked salmon canapés washed down with shiraz wine. Fun fun.
Their construction project is coming along and should be done by the end of the month. They are waiting on the city to give them certificates of occupancy, though, and that can take a while. I'm anxious to see evetything when they get moved in to the new space.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Today's Mass
My friend Przemek and I went to the noon Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception today. Nothing special going on, just an ordinary time Mass.
It's been a while since I was last at the basilica, and their music program has gotten significantly better. What with the massive music improvement at the Catholics' cathedral, I have to wonder if the new archbishop hasn't had something to do with the musical and liturgical changes for the better. If so, congratulations to him. I, for one, am greatly appreciative.
There's a new (to me, at least) organist at the basilica called Jeremy Filsell who gets to play their 172-rank toy. He makes a nice noise with it, too, opening the service with Heinrich Scheidemann's "O Gott, wir danken deiner Güt" as a prelude and closing with a postlude of Virgil Fox's arrangement of Bach's "Now Thank We All Our God."
Processional and recessional hymns were solid German hymns, too, being Salzburg and Nun Danket. They did a psalm setting as a communion marching hymn with the antiphon "The hand of the Lord feeds us." Harold Darke's Service in A minor served as the Mass setting for the Kyrie, Gloria, and Agnus Dei, with Hurd's New Plainsong Mass inexplicably filling in for the Sanctus, Benedictus, Memorial Acclamation, and Great Amen (I guess they wanted the congregation to be able to sing that part instead of just listening to the choir).
The nice part of the Mass, though, was hearing the choir sing anthems for the offertory and the post-communion motet. Christopher Tye's "Praise ye the Lord, ye Children" served as the offertory, and then later they did John Tavener's "Hymn for the Dormition of the Mother of God," which was lovely, but unfortunately marred at the end by a very off-key soprano.
Sitting in the congregation proved to be an interesting experience. First, there was a skinny, nervous woman sitting a couple of rows behind us who apparently fancied herself quite the good singer. She was probably a choir mother or something. Her voice was one of those thin, warbly things with the backwards vibratos that usually was sharp but which went very flat on the high notes. She fashioned her own endings to the last verses of the hymns and I wasn't sure whether to gag or laugh. Second, a South American man sat in front of me who knew his service responses very well, but he had to very loudly ejaculate them considerably faster than the rest of the congregation, and I do believe he finished the Our Father before the rest of us were halfway done. Thirdly, there was an African family taking up the entire row in front of him with three little girls any one of whom could be a poster child for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. I'm not sure whether the man was their father or grandfather, but the girls literally climbed all over him the entire Mass. A tall, thin teenager stood and sat there disengaged and nearly motionless except when he had to pry one of the little girls off of him. And, finally, there was a mousey young woman sitting behind us in the throes of a bad cold who sounded positively consumptive. I made sure to wash my hands as soon as I could after Mass.
Since we'd gotten there a bit early, I took a bunch of pictures of the crypt chapel on the lower level underneath the sanctuary. Click on them for a larger view.
The Chapel
Side Chapels
Entrances to the Sacristy and Confessional
Chapel Organ
Monday, October 13, 2008
Neighborhood parish report
The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
—Phillipians 4:5–7 (NIV)
Thus was the gist of the prescribed Epistle (second reading) at church yesterday. These things aren't chosen a week at a time, they've been published and standardized years ago. It's purely coincidence (or divine prescience) that we got this passage today, during this time of nationwide—and international—financial instability and anxiety.
We also had a very intelligent and well-reasoned sermon by guest celebrant and preacher Melana Nelson-Amaker. She talked about "the idolatry of greed and growth" today, putting the financial crisis into simple perspective. It's a popular topic this weekend. I also heard someone on BBC talk about how continuing to privatize gain and nationalize debt was not the way to go, if we're to solve the world's money and credit problems. Anyway, the sermon was surprisingly good, it was just twice as long as I'm used to sitting through.
In fact, it was an incredibly long service, for no good reason, too, as there were no crowds of people, no holy day, and no special musical offerings; this is largely because the neighborhood parish, Trinity Episcopal, has become a black church. Historically, black churches have encouraged longer sermons and a lot more music, and many of the members of Trinity are converts to the faith, not cradle Episcopalians, so what gives the parish its own special flavor is their version of black Anglicanism and liturgical formality. And, of all the Episcopal parishes I"ve visited this year, I actually find this place pretty acceptable, because they are fairly traditional and conservative in their liturgical and musical choices, and despite their annoying friendlieness (and emptying out the pews to pass the peace with everyone in the big church), I like them a whole lot better than those confused, ultraliberal, guilty, white parishes I've seen.
Soprano Marilyn Moore, the operatically-trained, voice faculty member from the Levine School of Music in D.C., provided music as a special guest singer. She did Mein glaübiges Herze, frohlocke ("My heart ever faithful") from Bach's Cantata No. 68 for the offertory anthem and, at the beginning of communion, she sang two spirituals, "Were You There" and "Let Us Bread Bread Together." Lovely voice. I also liked her clothing, a tight black skirt suit made of a black-on-black lizard print that looked quite luxe. The organist accompanied her on the piano at the chancel steps.
The rest of the music was just a little excessive, especially since the choir was not of professional calibre. For example, they did an anthem called "I Was Glad" by Albin C. Whitworth as an introit after the collect of purity. The choir sang an uncredited song (two verses of a hymn?) after the sermon. They still do the Doxology at the presentation of gifts. There was something called "the orison" (translates to a "special prayer") sung between the blessing and the dismissal. I would have been happy to have had all of these excised. For hymns, they did Rathisbon (Christ, whose glory fills the skies) as the processional, Restoration (Jesus calls us; o'er the tumult) as the gradual, "Break, Thou, the Bread of Life" and "This Is My Body" at communion, and Marion (Rejoice, ye pure in heart) as the recessional. And, in true Episcopalian fashion, they sang all of the verses, even all seven verses of the recessional hymn.
The Mass setting they use, which kicked in after the offertory, is an interesting mix. The Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei came from Schubert's Deutche Messe. The fraction anthem was Gerald Near's. I'm not sure about the Great Amen (and an altar boy rang the sanctus bells thrice during it). They did Malotte's setting of the Lord's Prayer.
They have lengthy prayers of the people and the announcement and introductions segment of the show lasted ad infinitum. Did I mention they took forever passing the peace to everyone?
Liturgically, they used a fairly conservative Rite II, though they did do the Star Trek eucharistic prayer.
Thus was the two-hour-long service. The parish is in easy walking distance of the house, so if they'd shorten things, I could deal with being a regular worshipper there, but I don't know if I'm up to two hours every Sunday.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Red Mass
Yesterday was the 55th annual Red Mass at the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle in anticipation of today being the first day of term for the Supreme Court of the United States. I was privileged to be able to attend and actually got a seat in the cathedral.
Red Masses are a medieval tradition originating in Rome, Paris, and London, marking the official opening of the judicial year. They are intended to bless judges and public officials and to ask God to watch over the wise administration of justice. It's the "lawyers' Mass." I don't think I've ever before seen so many men in suits in a Catholic church!
This year's guests included the Chief Justice of the United States, four associate justices of the Supreme Court (a majority of the Supreme Court is Catholic, by the way), the Secretary of Commerce, some ambassadors, several members of Congress, and quite a large number of members of the federal judiciary. The processions also included law faculties from Catholic and Georgetown Universities dressed in academic regalia.
Eight bishops concelebrated the Mass, including the Archbishop of Washington, the Archbishop of the Military Services, the Bishop of Arlington, and the sometimes-controversial John Patrick Cardinal Foley, now Grand Master of the Equestian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem.
The music at this Mass absolutely blew me away. The cathedral is getting good enough to think of as a musical church in the league with the Episcopalians and Anglicans!
Recently, the cathedral reorganized its music department and took on a new pastoral associate for liturgy and music, and ever since then, there has been an increasing major improvement in the musical literature being performed, and in the past couple of months, there hasn't been a single time I've sat in Mass at the cathedral and cringed, as used to happen so much in the past. Of course, this wasn't without some controversy.....the new music director is the person who was music director for the papal Mass at Nationals Park last April, who I found effective, but some accused of being "vapid." He was a friend of the new archbishop's back when he was in Pittsburgh, so I'm not surprised at all that the archbishop has replaced the music staff at St. Matthew's with his own people.
Anyway, obviously, this was a special event service, but the cathedral does a number of those throughout the year, so with a music staff that has questionable taste, it could still be disastrous. I'm hopeful for what the new team is and will be doing.
The Washington Symphonic Brass and the cathedral organist provided about ten minutes of baroque-sounding prelude music, then the choir sang a five-minute anthem by Anthony Piccolo called "O Come Let Us Sing unto the Lord" as an introit. Prior to all of that, though, those of us who had been seated in the cathedral an hour early had heard the choir rehearsing until about five minutes before the prelude started.
Choir rehearsing before the service.
The empty pews were for people who would process in.
The altar party wasn't quite ready when the introit was over, so after a minute or two of silence, the organist filled in a bit for a couple of minutes until they'd gotten all those judges and bishops out on the steps organized. Finally they gave the signal, and the organ, brass, tympani, choir, and congregation started in with Ralph Vaughn-Williams' arrangement of Old Hundredth "All people that on earth do dwell."
Next four costumed Knights of Columbus brought in the American and D.C. flags, and everyone sang the national anthem. Some woman back in the congregation decided to grace us with her high note, too.
After that, the Mass proceeded fairly normally. Mass setting was the Proulx A Community Mass with brass accompaniment, and Gregorian chant Latin versions of the Gloria (responsorial, from Missa de Angelis) and Agnus Dei (Mass XVIII). At the end of Mass, they sang "America the Beautiful" as the Supreme Court was escorted out by the bishops (the CJ went with the archbishop and Mrs. CJ was with Cardinal Foley). Then for the formal recessional hymn, they sang Thaxted (O Spirit all embracing), one of my very favorite hymn tunes, in a lovely setting with brass and tympani.
In addition to the introit, the choir sang Palestrina's Veni Creator Spirtus for the offertory and a beautiful performance of Friedell's "Draw Us in the Spirit's Tether."
Cardinal Foley gave an 11-minute homily. Rather than ascending the pulpit or even standing at the ambo, he sat in a chair placed in front of the high altar. During the rest of the Mass, instead of concelebrating at the altar he had his own prie dieu on the side.
Mass lasted about 90 minutes, but we'd been in the church at least 45 minutes before that, so it was a long morning. It was a zoo leaving; the Secret Service was everywhere and the people coming in for the 11:30 Mass were standing outside on the steps waiting for our service to get over. Here are some pics:
Secret Service guards the car of one of the justices.
Archbishop Woerl and Cardinal Foley
Red Masses are a medieval tradition originating in Rome, Paris, and London, marking the official opening of the judicial year. They are intended to bless judges and public officials and to ask God to watch over the wise administration of justice. It's the "lawyers' Mass." I don't think I've ever before seen so many men in suits in a Catholic church!
This year's guests included the Chief Justice of the United States, four associate justices of the Supreme Court (a majority of the Supreme Court is Catholic, by the way), the Secretary of Commerce, some ambassadors, several members of Congress, and quite a large number of members of the federal judiciary. The processions also included law faculties from Catholic and Georgetown Universities dressed in academic regalia.
Eight bishops concelebrated the Mass, including the Archbishop of Washington, the Archbishop of the Military Services, the Bishop of Arlington, and the sometimes-controversial John Patrick Cardinal Foley, now Grand Master of the Equestian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem.
The music at this Mass absolutely blew me away. The cathedral is getting good enough to think of as a musical church in the league with the Episcopalians and Anglicans!
Recently, the cathedral reorganized its music department and took on a new pastoral associate for liturgy and music, and ever since then, there has been an increasing major improvement in the musical literature being performed, and in the past couple of months, there hasn't been a single time I've sat in Mass at the cathedral and cringed, as used to happen so much in the past. Of course, this wasn't without some controversy.....the new music director is the person who was music director for the papal Mass at Nationals Park last April, who I found effective, but some accused of being "vapid." He was a friend of the new archbishop's back when he was in Pittsburgh, so I'm not surprised at all that the archbishop has replaced the music staff at St. Matthew's with his own people.
Anyway, obviously, this was a special event service, but the cathedral does a number of those throughout the year, so with a music staff that has questionable taste, it could still be disastrous. I'm hopeful for what the new team is and will be doing.
The Washington Symphonic Brass and the cathedral organist provided about ten minutes of baroque-sounding prelude music, then the choir sang a five-minute anthem by Anthony Piccolo called "O Come Let Us Sing unto the Lord" as an introit. Prior to all of that, though, those of us who had been seated in the cathedral an hour early had heard the choir rehearsing until about five minutes before the prelude started.
Choir rehearsing before the service.
The empty pews were for people who would process in.
The altar party wasn't quite ready when the introit was over, so after a minute or two of silence, the organist filled in a bit for a couple of minutes until they'd gotten all those judges and bishops out on the steps organized. Finally they gave the signal, and the organ, brass, tympani, choir, and congregation started in with Ralph Vaughn-Williams' arrangement of Old Hundredth "All people that on earth do dwell."
Next four costumed Knights of Columbus brought in the American and D.C. flags, and everyone sang the national anthem. Some woman back in the congregation decided to grace us with her high note, too.
After that, the Mass proceeded fairly normally. Mass setting was the Proulx A Community Mass with brass accompaniment, and Gregorian chant Latin versions of the Gloria (responsorial, from Missa de Angelis) and Agnus Dei (Mass XVIII). At the end of Mass, they sang "America the Beautiful" as the Supreme Court was escorted out by the bishops (the CJ went with the archbishop and Mrs. CJ was with Cardinal Foley). Then for the formal recessional hymn, they sang Thaxted (O Spirit all embracing), one of my very favorite hymn tunes, in a lovely setting with brass and tympani.
In addition to the introit, the choir sang Palestrina's Veni Creator Spirtus for the offertory and a beautiful performance of Friedell's "Draw Us in the Spirit's Tether."
Cardinal Foley gave an 11-minute homily. Rather than ascending the pulpit or even standing at the ambo, he sat in a chair placed in front of the high altar. During the rest of the Mass, instead of concelebrating at the altar he had his own prie dieu on the side.
Mass lasted about 90 minutes, but we'd been in the church at least 45 minutes before that, so it was a long morning. It was a zoo leaving; the Secret Service was everywhere and the people coming in for the 11:30 Mass were standing outside on the steps waiting for our service to get over. Here are some pics:
Secret Service guards the car of one of the justices.
Archbishop Woerl and Cardinal Foley
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