Xmas in New York

Last weekend I went to New York for a Christmas shopping weekend with Ian as well as to escape the "blizzard" that was forecast for Washington that Saturday (as it turned out, D.C. got about 20-24" of snow and, predictably, the whole city shut down, including all buses and above-ground Metro trains, and even on Monday, the federal government closed all offices because of snow).  It was a fun weekend, even considering the 8-10" of snow that made its way to New York City on Saturday night (the original forecast had the snow curving out to sea and missing New York). 

Snow or not, New York is always fun in December.  


Sunday morning, while Ian worshipped at St. Mattress, I walked down the block to Calvary Episcopal Church, the old church on Gramercy Park, for Advent 4 Mass.  It's really a beautiful Victorian Gothic Revival building.  With the overnight snowfall, attendance was down, but they still had about fifty people at the service, and they had a choir of eight with about five or six instrumentalists.  It was also unusually friendly for an Episcopal church; I had several people talk to me as I came in the doors, and after the service, several more people came up to chat while I was walking around looking at the church.

Liturgically it seems like a fairly conservative Rite 2 parish (although they stood for the prayer of consecration), though the music was all over the map.  The priest only wore an alb and stole with no chasuble or cope.  The layreaders were vested in albs and the choir members wore red cassocks.

Hymns included Hyfrydol (Love divine all loves excelling) for the processional, Richmond (Hark! The glad sound) for the gradual, and St. Stephen (The King shall come) for the recessional.  I was surprised to hear an old style doxology to Old Hundredth for the presentation of alms after the offertory anthem.  At the beginning of the service, they lit the Advent wreath, after which they sang a hymn called "Awaken us, God" to the tune of "Away in the Manger" (The day of our hearts is near dawning at last).  Then, at the end of the service after the recessional and dismissal, they sang "The King shall come" to the tune of "Joy to the world" (O brighter than that glorious morn).

My choir used to think I played the hymns fast during Mass. They should come here; even I had to catch my breath and race!

Where things got interesting was with the other music.  For the Mass setting, they used Healy Willan's Rite 1 language Missa de Sancta Maria Magdalena, but the organist played the accompaniment on the piano and it was rather a jazzy interpretation.  For the offertory anthem, the choir sang "My soul doth magnify the Lord" by Ford Peace, a mildly contemporary piece.  During communion, the choir sang an absolutely dreadful contemporary Christian song called "Jesus Messiah" by Daniel Carson, Chris Tomlin, Ed Cash, and Jesse Reeves.  Now, we're not talking contemporary as in bad Catholic music/Hagen and Haas, but contemporary as in Michael W. Smith and prayer and praise music, and the accompaniment included electric piano, electric bass, and bongos, plus trumpets and strings.

The celebrant preached on the Annunciation and the Magnificat, and he was a very unusual combination of interesting, intellectual, and dynamic—a quality not many Episcopal or Catholic priests share.

This is the pulpit and half of the chancel organ pipes (there were also pipes in the organ loft in the back of the church).

After church, I went back to Ian's apartment to fetch him, then off we went to Central Park.  It was a fun weekend.

Via Facebook

Is it bad that I'm eating large quantities of shrimp on the first night of Hanukkah?

Announcement

I have a message for churchgoers: there are two smells in the Afterworld, incense and brimstone. One should start getting used to one or the other now.

Another feast day

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.

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.

Happy New Year!

An Advent Procession with Lessons and Carols
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.

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.

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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.

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.

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!

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.