Never say that catching the monsignor's ear at the opera doesn't do any good (last Tuesday, we ran into him at the Kennedy Center during a performance of Wagner's Parsifal). I wandered in to St. Stephen's this morning and they'd put an electronic keyboard up in the choir loft and were actually using it for the hymns this morning!
Yay. I was glad to be able to sing for a change. The congregation was singing, too. It was wonderful.
Hymns today were Darwall's 145th, National Hymn, and Wareham, and most of the Mass setting was Proulx's Mass fo the City. The choir did Duruflé's "Ubi caritas" for the communion motet. Otherwise it was a boring Mass. The preacher went on and on about witnessing about Christianity by buying fifty fish filet sandwiches at McDonald's during Lent.
My mother called from Oklahoma today with an interesting bits of news. Their parish priest is a nominee for Bishop of Oklahoma. If he gets elected, it would be kewl cause I'd get to go back and sing at the consecration.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
The Washington Midrash
Most of us are familiar with the story of George Washington as a child, who had received a hatchet as a present and then chopped all around a cherry tree on his family's farm, causing the cherry tree's death (or the alternative version where the cherry tree was "chopped down"). When the tree was discovered by George's father, he was angry and sought the identity of the culprit. The young George then brightly said, "My father, I cannot tell a lie. I chopped on the cherry tree."
For centuries, we have told this story to our children as a way of teaching them not to lie.
The only problem is that this story about Washington and the cherry tree isn't true. It's a lie. According to the Internet site for the Mount Vernon Ladies Association, which operates Washington's Mount Vernon estate today, "The story, known to schoolchildren for generations, seems to have been invented by a man named Mason Weems shortly after Washington's death. Ironically, the story was intended to show how honest Washington was."
Yes, it is ironic that we would lie to our children to teach them not to lie. It's a long standing tradition, though, one used by the Bible and one which was used millennia before Christ in the Arabic and middle eastern areas of the world, and it's called "midrash." Midrash is a story telling technique which glorifies kings, generals, and heroes or perhaps which tells the great lessons of the culture, teaching the social mores and values of the people. Perhaps some of the stories are based in fact or based on historical events, but the storytellers take enormous artistic license in making their points, wanting a good and entertaining story as well as a fable with a moral or lesson.
In those cultures, it is well understood that these stories are for teaching purposes, and no one expects them to be literally correct. Of course, where this gets to be a problem for modern day Americans is that the entire Bible—which was written by Jews, one of those middle eastern cultures with a long-standing midrashic tradition—is essentially a midrash, and, therefore, cannot be taken as literally true and correct. The Bible, though, much like our story of George Washington and the cherry tree, is still a useful means for imparting our social mores and values to our younger generations. Thus, we keep our midrashic stories in our modern culture, and we will continue to lie to our children about cherry trees every February to teach them not to lie when they chop down our cherry trees.
For centuries, we have told this story to our children as a way of teaching them not to lie.
The only problem is that this story about Washington and the cherry tree isn't true. It's a lie. According to the Internet site for the Mount Vernon Ladies Association, which operates Washington's Mount Vernon estate today, "The story, known to schoolchildren for generations, seems to have been invented by a man named Mason Weems shortly after Washington's death. Ironically, the story was intended to show how honest Washington was."
Yes, it is ironic that we would lie to our children to teach them not to lie. It's a long standing tradition, though, one used by the Bible and one which was used millennia before Christ in the Arabic and middle eastern areas of the world, and it's called "midrash." Midrash is a story telling technique which glorifies kings, generals, and heroes or perhaps which tells the great lessons of the culture, teaching the social mores and values of the people. Perhaps some of the stories are based in fact or based on historical events, but the storytellers take enormous artistic license in making their points, wanting a good and entertaining story as well as a fable with a moral or lesson.
In those cultures, it is well understood that these stories are for teaching purposes, and no one expects them to be literally correct. Of course, where this gets to be a problem for modern day Americans is that the entire Bible—which was written by Jews, one of those middle eastern cultures with a long-standing midrashic tradition—is essentially a midrash, and, therefore, cannot be taken as literally true and correct. The Bible, though, much like our story of George Washington and the cherry tree, is still a useful means for imparting our social mores and values to our younger generations. Thus, we keep our midrashic stories in our modern culture, and we will continue to lie to our children about cherry trees every February to teach them not to lie when they chop down our cherry trees.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Walking to church on a Sunday morning
Snowy mornings are always challenging for churches: should they hold services or cancel them? In centuries past, priests lived on-site and most parishioners lived within walking distance of the church, so it was no big deal at all to trudge to church in the snow, and, since missing Sunday services was formally considered a "sin" in the eyes of the Church, trudge away they went. But today, most Christians, especially Protestants, are fair-weather Christians. They stay home Sunday mornings if it's too snowy or too cold or too rainy or too sunny or too close to a football game (oh, that's not weather, is it?) or on a more important day like Christmas morning (Christmas?? Isn't that a Christian holy day?....oh, sorry, that's not weather, either), etc., ad infinitum.Yesterday was no exception. I wasn't worried, though, since the streets in downtown D.C. were easily passable and there are at least half a dozen socially acceptable churches within easy walking distance of my condo. The first church (pictured to the left) I walked by on the GWU campus was still locked up, though.
As it turned out, my photography walking tour of the public sites of Washington took longer than expected, and I had to hurry back towards the White House and Lafayette Square to catch the eleven o'clock service at St. John's, the "Church of the Presidents" (Dubya comes to the early service here sometimes, and the parish claims him as a member, since technically he is "canonically resident"). There were only about forty people in the congregation; they all must have been hard core Episcopalians, because I had dressed for the weather and walking around town in nearly a foot of snow with my snow boots, dark trousers, collared shirt, and a rather expensive Fair Isle sweater, but their disapproving gazes quickly pointed out to me that I was the only man in the congregation not wearing a coat and tie!
Speaking of my snow boots, as I was struggling with the kneelers in the church and trying to get them to fit under the pew as I was kneeling, I was meditating upon them. It occurred to me that I bought these boots when I was an undergraduate at the University of Kansas probably around 1979, which means they are older than many of my blog readers!
Anyway, getting back to church......St. John's seemed to be well staffed with three priests (well, one priest and two priestesses), a couple of acolytes, an organist, a choir director, and their core professional octet for the choir. All of the clergy and musicians were in choir dress, complete with academic hoods. They also had a full complement of ushers present to handle their usual crowd of 300 or so, so as you can imagine, with only forty charges that morning they were rather overly solicitous. There was a parish lunch scheduled after the service and everyone was strongly encouraged to come, since they'd cooked for a bigger crowd; I didn't go, though, since I couldn't figure out how to get down to the basement where they were eating.
The service turned out to be Morning Prayer. I haven't been to a Morning Prayer service in decades! It's so......'Sixties!
The choir sang, predictably, Palestrina's "Sicut cervus" for the offertory, since Psalm 42 was in the readings. They also sang a choral Magnificat setting by Gary Davison as the second canticle. The first canticle was a Jubilate Deo congregationally sung to Anglican chant by Christopher Gibbons and the psalm was sung to Anglican chant by the parish's choirmaster, William Bradley Roberts. Processional hymn was Darwall's 148th, Siroe at the sermon, and Hyfrydol for the recessional. At the offertory presentation, they did a doxology sung to the Lasst uns erfreuen tune which segued directly into the fourth verse of America.
After the postlude ("Toccata" by Flor Peeters), they had a quick little communion service for those who wished to stay—maybe only about half a dozen people had left. It felt very clandestine! They started at the sursum corda and quickly read through the consecration, and it only took about ten or fifteen minutes to complete, and, obviously, nothing was sung.
After sitting all that time, my legs were stiff, so I Metroed home. It's an interesting little parish, though, and they are surprisingly friendly for Episcopalians. I would go more often, but they are rather low church there, and very much in that "Southern" mold. If you drive, they have valet parking here. They also have a lot of outreach and special projects here, and one that always tickles me is two groups of Alcoholics Anonymous for lawyers only!
Tuesday, February 7, 2006
Evangelical TV
We've all heard the news about NBC's cancellation of the scandalous(ly true and funny) series The Book of Daniel about the pain killer-addicted Episcopal priest who "talks" with a hippie-type Jesus, as NBC executives showed their gutless caving-in to the whines of an evangelical Christian lobby that had never even seen the show. The Evangelicals decided they didn't like it because, while they never really figured in the plot, the priest had a gay son, his wife had a lesbian sister, and his straight adopted teenaged Asian son was sexually active with a wealthy white parishioner's daughter. Duh. Like all of that doesn't happen in the Baptist church, too, except with the Baptists, it's not gay sons, it's gay senior pastors and Southern Baptist Convention Executive Committee members.
And, even more fun, as Will and Grace winds down to a series finale this spring, rumors are already rampant about a still-unwritten show in which the Evangelicals allege guest star Brittany Spears is going to play an evangelical Christian broadcaster who works with Jack on a variety show food segment called "Cruci-fixin's," and now the Evangelicals want to organize a boycott against NBC and its advertisers. You know, years ago I think I remember seeing some church ladies' group selling a cookbook of their church potluck recipes called Crucifixin's. Must not be politically correct any more.
So, it's time for all of the hypocritical and holier-than-thou Evangelicals to launch a total boycott of NBC and the cable companies which program the network on their cable lineups, and for the rest of us to start watching more and more NBC. Since NBC "depicted" Jesus in a show, maybe the Evangelicals should emulate the Muslims who are protesting and burning Danish embassies over a silly editorial cartoon and start burning NBC studios and stations all over the country. Self-righteous fanaticism is always such a good thing.
And, even more fun, as Will and Grace winds down to a series finale this spring, rumors are already rampant about a still-unwritten show in which the Evangelicals allege guest star Brittany Spears is going to play an evangelical Christian broadcaster who works with Jack on a variety show food segment called "Cruci-fixin's," and now the Evangelicals want to organize a boycott against NBC and its advertisers. You know, years ago I think I remember seeing some church ladies' group selling a cookbook of their church potluck recipes called Crucifixin's. Must not be politically correct any more.
So, it's time for all of the hypocritical and holier-than-thou Evangelicals to launch a total boycott of NBC and the cable companies which program the network on their cable lineups, and for the rest of us to start watching more and more NBC. Since NBC "depicted" Jesus in a show, maybe the Evangelicals should emulate the Muslims who are protesting and burning Danish embassies over a silly editorial cartoon and start burning NBC studios and stations all over the country. Self-righteous fanaticism is always such a good thing.
Sunday, February 5, 2006
Speaking of Mass.....
Speaking of Mass.....I was slow and running late this morning, so by the time I got out the door, there wasn't time to go anyplace fun, so I ended up back at St. Stephen's, the neighborhood parish a couple of blocks away.
I was just at St. Stephen's for their noon Mass last Friday. It was the Feast of St. Blaise, the patron saint of throats, and after Mass they did blessings of throats. It's a fun little optional Catholic ceremony. Two beeswax candles are tied together with a red ribbon into a V-shape, and the priest holds the candles to ones throat with one hand and puts his other hand on ones forehead for the blessing. It's a nice way to let God through the grace of His sacraments preserve my singing voice.
At the Friday Mass, I had to hold back my laughter from time to time. They had this little geriatric lady with blazingly dyed bright auburn hair (catch the pun on St. Blaise?) who was just banging the Hell out of the piano, playing accompaniment for the hymns, as well as a very "gospel hymn" sounding prelude. It was good to hear hymn accompaniment in this church, though (continuing my weekly rant during "Broken Organ Time"), and to further my point, I noticed that the very small congregation at this noon service sang much more confidently and loudly than the huge congregation with unaccompanied hymns did this morning.
This morning I walked in as the organist was playing a very nice prelude on the piano. He later would play an excellent improvisation on the offertory hymn after the hymn. He accompanied the communion marching hymn and played some improv filler between it and the ablutions motet. He did not, however, play accompaniments for any of the Mass setting or the major congregational hymns. Alas. Seems like attendance is down at this service, too.....right reverend monsignor pastor ought to take note.
Hymns today were "Your hands, O Lord in days of old" (Forest Green) for the procession (if they're gonna sing four-part unaccompanied harmony, the choir really needs to keep together on those eighth notes!), "The voice of God goes out through all the world" (National Hymn) for the offertory, and the standard Rendez à Dieu for the recessional. Mass setting was New Plainsong Mass for the antiphonal Gloria, Mass for the City for the Sanctus and Memorial Acclamations, and the old Gregorian chant Agnus Dei. The choir sang a nice motet during the post-communion ablutions, "Praise the Lord who reigns above" by Theodore Marier.
Otherwise, this has been a slow church week. I'd wanted to go to Candlemas on Thursday evening at St. Paul's K Street (they were bringing in two English bishops to serve as celebrant and preacher), but I went to that world premiere with the National Symphony Orchestra instead. The rest of February should be quiet—Lent is late this year.
I was just at St. Stephen's for their noon Mass last Friday. It was the Feast of St. Blaise, the patron saint of throats, and after Mass they did blessings of throats. It's a fun little optional Catholic ceremony. Two beeswax candles are tied together with a red ribbon into a V-shape, and the priest holds the candles to ones throat with one hand and puts his other hand on ones forehead for the blessing. It's a nice way to let God through the grace of His sacraments preserve my singing voice.
At the Friday Mass, I had to hold back my laughter from time to time. They had this little geriatric lady with blazingly dyed bright auburn hair (catch the pun on St. Blaise?) who was just banging the Hell out of the piano, playing accompaniment for the hymns, as well as a very "gospel hymn" sounding prelude. It was good to hear hymn accompaniment in this church, though (continuing my weekly rant during "Broken Organ Time"), and to further my point, I noticed that the very small congregation at this noon service sang much more confidently and loudly than the huge congregation with unaccompanied hymns did this morning.
This morning I walked in as the organist was playing a very nice prelude on the piano. He later would play an excellent improvisation on the offertory hymn after the hymn. He accompanied the communion marching hymn and played some improv filler between it and the ablutions motet. He did not, however, play accompaniments for any of the Mass setting or the major congregational hymns. Alas. Seems like attendance is down at this service, too.....right reverend monsignor pastor ought to take note.
Hymns today were "Your hands, O Lord in days of old" (Forest Green) for the procession (if they're gonna sing four-part unaccompanied harmony, the choir really needs to keep together on those eighth notes!), "The voice of God goes out through all the world" (National Hymn) for the offertory, and the standard Rendez à Dieu for the recessional. Mass setting was New Plainsong Mass for the antiphonal Gloria, Mass for the City for the Sanctus and Memorial Acclamations, and the old Gregorian chant Agnus Dei. The choir sang a nice motet during the post-communion ablutions, "Praise the Lord who reigns above" by Theodore Marier.
Otherwise, this has been a slow church week. I'd wanted to go to Candlemas on Thursday evening at St. Paul's K Street (they were bringing in two English bishops to serve as celebrant and preacher), but I went to that world premiere with the National Symphony Orchestra instead. The rest of February should be quiet—Lent is late this year.
Cellular erections
This morning as we were filing out after church, I was chatting with a tall, handsome boy I didn't know who's a GWU student. Out of the blue, he said, "Your cell phone is erect."
Taken off guard, I asked, "What?"
He pointed with his nose and looked down towards my crotch. I followed his gaze. There, in its holster on my belt, was my cell phone, its antenna fully extended.
I'm glad to know that during Mass the GWU boy had his mind on lofty subjects.
Taken off guard, I asked, "What?"
He pointed with his nose and looked down towards my crotch. I followed his gaze. There, in its holster on my belt, was my cell phone, its antenna fully extended.
I'm glad to know that during Mass the GWU boy had his mind on lofty subjects.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Getting depressed at church
Today I overheard that I am not alone in hating the attempts at a capella sung Mass at St. Stephen's. After my last couple of experiences there, I've felt a little bit guilty for expressing my opinion that the direction of their liturgical music is disappointing during this period when they are organless, but today I heard at least two other groups of parishioners, one right outside the church doors and one down the street at the stoplight complaining, wondering why they don't play the piano for the hymns, and even wondering why they don't get rid of the music altogether.
Getting rid of the music is not a good thing—don't wanna throw the baby out with the bath water—but at the same time, I feel strongly that music, an integral part of liturgy, should not distract from the liturgy. Today, the a capella attempts were clearly a distraction. And it made me sad.
The cantoress and the organist were attempting to do a duet for the hymns and service music today. For the offertory hymn, they were a duet, with not a single soul singing along. They were nearly a duet for the processional and recessional, with maybe three or four people (no, not me) kind of softly attempting to sing along, one of whom clearly fell into the "tone deaf" category.
The service music fared a little better, though not much. Of course, they do the Gloria antiphonally at this parish (a bad habit, but that's another post), so there's not much for the congregation to do. During the consecration, though, the program leaflet had the Sanctus music for Mass for the City, yet the organist started singing the Sanctus from A Community Mass. So, when we got to the eucharistic acclamations, I started to sing the not-well-known version of "Dying he restored our life" (usually parishes sing "Christ has died, Christ has risen") from A Community Mass, but the cantoral team sang the version from Mass for the City. So, I gave up.
Then, for the communion "marching hymn," they did that sappy little contemporary antiphonal hymn "The Lord is my light and my salvation," and the organist played it on the piano! I was excited. I actually sang the antiphons to be supportive (I hate "marching hymns," so I usually ignore them). Once it was over, he continued with a very nice improvisation. He'd also played a little filler improv during the offertory after that hymn had finished. We know, therefore, he can play the piano and we know the piano is in tune and works just fine.
We got to the recessional hymn and I was all excited that there was going to be piano accompaniment and we'd get to sing joyfully, and lo and behold, the organist went back up to play co-cantor. No piano. I just threw my program down in disgust and stood there glaring at him.
Is it a sin not to sing at Mass? Do I need to go confess this? I don't know. I'm going to Hell anyway cause I took communion this morning without having been to confession after my "distraction" earlier in the week. With my luck, though, Hell will be filled with cantors singing with vibrato at a capella Masses.
Getting rid of the music is not a good thing—don't wanna throw the baby out with the bath water—but at the same time, I feel strongly that music, an integral part of liturgy, should not distract from the liturgy. Today, the a capella attempts were clearly a distraction. And it made me sad.
The cantoress and the organist were attempting to do a duet for the hymns and service music today. For the offertory hymn, they were a duet, with not a single soul singing along. They were nearly a duet for the processional and recessional, with maybe three or four people (no, not me) kind of softly attempting to sing along, one of whom clearly fell into the "tone deaf" category.
The service music fared a little better, though not much. Of course, they do the Gloria antiphonally at this parish (a bad habit, but that's another post), so there's not much for the congregation to do. During the consecration, though, the program leaflet had the Sanctus music for Mass for the City, yet the organist started singing the Sanctus from A Community Mass. So, when we got to the eucharistic acclamations, I started to sing the not-well-known version of "Dying he restored our life" (usually parishes sing "Christ has died, Christ has risen") from A Community Mass, but the cantoral team sang the version from Mass for the City. So, I gave up.
Then, for the communion "marching hymn," they did that sappy little contemporary antiphonal hymn "The Lord is my light and my salvation," and the organist played it on the piano! I was excited. I actually sang the antiphons to be supportive (I hate "marching hymns," so I usually ignore them). Once it was over, he continued with a very nice improvisation. He'd also played a little filler improv during the offertory after that hymn had finished. We know, therefore, he can play the piano and we know the piano is in tune and works just fine.
We got to the recessional hymn and I was all excited that there was going to be piano accompaniment and we'd get to sing joyfully, and lo and behold, the organist went back up to play co-cantor. No piano. I just threw my program down in disgust and stood there glaring at him.
Is it a sin not to sing at Mass? Do I need to go confess this? I don't know. I'm going to Hell anyway cause I took communion this morning without having been to confession after my "distraction" earlier in the week. With my luck, though, Hell will be filled with cantors singing with vibrato at a capella Masses.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Shirtsleeves in January
Saturday was a wonderfully warm day in the high 50s (and maybe even the low 60s), though the spectre of possible rain hung over the city all day long. We ventured out to brunch, intending to go to a place near Dupont Circle, but they seemed to be closed when we got there, even though their website said they were open for lunch. Dupont Circle was buzzing with all kinds of people and protestors around (the usual). I guess lots of people were out to enjoy the unexpectedly warm weather.
After brunch, we passed by the international headquarters of the Church of Scientology. Interestingly enough, they had some of their followers out on Dupont Circle with tables set up to hold these machines with metal handle thingies on thick wires that they use to help people measure their stress levels, at least from the Scientology viewpoint. I suppose everybody's thetans are off, and we all need Tom Cruise to come fix us.
After brunch, we passed by the international headquarters of the Church of Scientology. Interestingly enough, they had some of their followers out on Dupont Circle with tables set up to hold these machines with metal handle thingies on thick wires that they use to help people measure their stress levels, at least from the Scientology viewpoint. I suppose everybody's thetans are off, and we all need Tom Cruise to come fix us.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Okies invade cathedral
Hundreds of Oklahomans descended upon the Washington National Cathedral this morning for the quadrennial observance of Oklahoma Major State Day. We managed to get reserved tickets, so Tony and I got to sit up front with all the dignitaries and special guests. Congressman Dan Boren (D-2nd Dist. Okla.) read the Old Testament Reading during the service and former governor and former Assistant Secretary of the Treasury Frank Keating and his wife carried the Oklahoma flag in the procession. Principal Chief of the Cherokees Chadwick Smith presented the bread during the offertory, Oklahoma Arts Council Executive Director Betty Price and another woman whose name escapes me (she used to be administrative hired help at Tulsa Opera) presented the wine, and a woman I didn't know presented the water.
The incumbent governor was a no-show and I didn't see any of the other members of the Oklahoma Congressional delegation there. Federal dignitaries I saw and chatted with included the Special Trustee for American Indians Ross Swimmer (who's a former Assistant Secretary of the Interior for Indian Affairs), the Director of the Bureau of Indian Affairs Pat Ragsdale, and OST's Director of the Office of Trust Regulations, Policies and Procedures Phil Viles (who's a former chief justice of the Cherokee Judicial Appeals Tribunal). I was surprised not to see any of the bishops from Oklahoma there.
Had a nice chat with Governor Keating's wife, who was escorting her mother around, and Congressman Boren introduced me to his very pretty wife. Also talked with Chief Smith before the service and his wife afterwards. The chief has a new Indian jacket in a striped tan fabric, and Bobbie was wearing a tear dress in matching hues. Speaking of clothes, Cathy Keating was in a gorgeous turquoise angora sweater.
During communion, I noticed Mrs. Price was grimmacing a bit after she received her wine. Since she was one of the people who brought it up to the altar during the offertory, I meant to ask her at the reception afterwards what vintage it was so I could avoid buying a wine she so obviously didn't like. Alas, she didn't go to the reception, so I didn't get to ask. She's probably used to my parish back in Oklahoma City, where they always serve white wine on the Epistle side and red wine on the Gospel side.
The Cherokee National Youth Choir (pictured above—those tiny people in the ribbon shirts behind the altar) sang a choral prelude before the service. It was all their standard gospel hymn stuff sung in the Cherokee language. The cathedral acoustic, unfortunately, wasn't terribly kind to their singing, but you know how everybody always thinks kids are cute, so everyone was happy.
The service itself, a standard 11 a.m. communion service for the cathedral, was a little low-key. The dean preached (too long) and their canoness liturgist was the celebrant. She, as usual, wrote some weird text for the service and substituted some weird "Arise your light has come" hymn for the Gloria. The Cathedral Choir of Men and Girls sang, and I noticed the assistant director in procession and conducting (meaning we had the third string today), and I didn't recognize the playing of whoever was at the organ—it certainly didn't sound like the cathedral organist.
The choir did a lovely a capella introit from the rear of the nave, which was Edward Bairstow's "Jesu the very thought of thee." The offertory anthem was "O God who by the leading of a star" by Tomas Attwood and the slated communion motet was "Senex peurum portabat" by William Byrd. The limited Mass setting music was William Mathias' Sanctus and they did a fraction anthem I don't know which wasn't credited in the program; there was no Agnus Dei and nothing else was sung. The Psalm was sung to the Anglican chant Cambridge. Hymns were Truro for the procession, a hideous contemporary thing called Mary Alexandra with the words "Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?" for the sequence, Dix with weird alternative words "As we worship you today" after the offertory, Land of Rest with the words "I come with joy" for post-communion, and Crucifer for the recessional. The organ postlude was an unusually slow and ponderous Fugue in E-flat "Saint Anne", BWV 552 by J. S. Bach. The carillonneur played Truro as a prelude and I couldn't recognize the postlude he was ringing.
I was kind of amused to notice that atheist-wannabe Tony went up and ate Jesus during communion. He has Irish Catholics on both sides of his family, so I'm sure he'll blame it on cellular memory or something. I prefer to think of it merely as the Holy Spirit working in mysterious ways. :-)
After the service and coffee and cookie reception, we wandered around a bit so I could show Tony around the place and so we could kill a little bit of time. Above, Tony is standing in the Great Quire ogling the pipe organ. We were killing time so we could all go to brunch with my friend John who was driving down from Baltimore after playing a service at Old St. Paul's. He also was singing in the Evensong choir at the National Cathedral this afternoon, so we had to have a quick brunch at one of the neighborhood cafes to accommodate his schedule, and landed at Cactus Cantina, since there was a waiting list at Cafe Deluxe.
Alas, we had to be polite during our brunch conversation, since the canoness liturgist was seated at the table right beside us, and we couldn't make catty comments about the sad state of cathedral liturgy these days with her there and protect
Monday, January 16, 2006
Insipidness
Last night, I wandered over to St. Matthew's Cathedral for their Sunday evening Mass. It's never my favorite, since that's their "contemporary music" Mass and I hate insipid Catholic music, especially when it's made worse by lack of thought and preparation. They don't use the organ at this Mass, relying instead upon an amplified piano and a bass player, a small contemporary choir, and a cantor who was strangly hard to hear last night (and who didn't know his music). They did a mixed Mass setting with the Gloria of Michel Guimont, the Celtic allelulia, the Mass of Creation for the canon of the Mass, and an unidentified Agnus Dei I didn't know but which was intended for congregational response. Hymns were "Lift up your hearts" for the processional, a surprisingly unsung-by-the-congregation "The Summons" for the offertory, a Psalm 23 setting with the "Shepherd me, o God" antiphon for communion, and for the recessional "Glory and praise to our God" sung at a funereal pace. The one interesting observation last night was that the man with the unfortunate mutton chops I'd mentioned in my Advent Lessons and Carols report last month has shaved and looks infinitely better!
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