Happy Whitmonday!

This is Whitmonday, the day after Whitsunday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_________________________

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

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

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

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

Baccalaureate Mass

Commencement weekend at Georgetown started wrapping up today with a 9 a.m. Baccalaureate Mass outside on Healy Lawn. I was surprised how many students came and didn't look hung over at all! There was also a big crowd of family members sitting in the back section.

A professional organist, brass quintet, and typanist provided music for the ceremony, and I was very pleased to hear them singing proper hymns and anthems instead of some of the awful "St. Louis Jesuits" music—in fact, other than the communion hymns, the music sounded positively Anglican this morning (of course, everyone knows that Anglicans/Episcopalians do the best liturgical music these days). Since my friend Drew has been serving as the Student Director of Liturgy this past year, I wonder if he had anything to do with the great music?

As we in the faculty began to process into the seating area itself, we began to be pelted with huge drops of rain! The rain was short-lived, though, and stopped by the time we got to the Gloria.

The processional hymn was Lasst uns erfreuen (A hymn of glory let us sing!) and the recessional hymn was Sine Nomine (Go to the world!). Somebody likes Vaughn-Williams. During communion, they did a couple of hymns I didn't know, "No Greater Love" by Joncas and "Take and Eat This Bread" by O'Brien. The Mass setting was the too-familiar Haugen Mass of Creation (they only have the Gather hymnal in the pews in the college chapel).

Drew conducted the small chapel choir during the offertory and communion anthems, and I was quite impressed with what he'd done with them, especially since he was a sociology major/government minor. For the offertory, they did "If Ye Love Me" by Thomas Tallis and for communion, they did a Proulx arrangement of Thaxted called "O Spirit All-Embracing."


Drew conducting the choir.

After Mass, we processed directly to the Leavey Center Ballroom for the Commencement Brunch.

Walking to Mass in the rain

For the last semester-plus, I've been wanting to go hear my friend Drew at Holy Trinity Church in Georgetown, where he sings in the choir and sometimes cantors, before he graduates and leaves D.C. next month. The day I pick? Yesterday, when the rain was falling so heavily that I came downstairs with just an umbrella and had to go back upstairs to get my trenchcoat so I could stay dry (at least from the knees up) for the long walk to Georgetown. Even with the Circulator bus taking me to Georgetown, the half-mile walk from Wisconsin Avenue to the church and university was soggy.

Holy Trinity is the oldest Catholic parish in Georgetown and the District, started by the Jesuits who previously in 1789 had started the university. It was also the parish church of President and Mrs. Kennedy during his days in the U.S. Senate when they were living in Georgetown.



I found the nave to be interestingly spare, even Presbyterian-looking, and in the early American congregationalist cracker box design. The sanctuary is dominated, naturally, by a large cross, but rather than the traditional Catholic crucifix, they use a large, contemporary, glass and metal cross with biblical scenes etched into the arms of the cross and then back-lit so those scenes glow. Tall, stained glass windows line the sides of the nave, but rather than the usual portraits and scenes, the windows are simple, colored glass with a few geometric designs—again, very Protestant-looking.

The service leaflet announced that the organ prelude before Mass, surprisingly, was going to be the Final from Symphony No. 1 by Louis Vierne, a rather massive and festive work usually done as a postlude to major services. When the organist began to play, it definitely wasn't the Final; I think he was playing a softer, simpler movement from earlier in the symphony.

The procession started. It was First Communion Sunday, so they had about eight cute little kids, all very nicely and preppily dressed, processing in. What caught my attention, though, were the altar boys: all of the servers yesterday were women in that late middle-aged to elderly age group! Not only were the servers mature women, so were the cantress and the litanist.

Hymns for the day were O filii et filiae for the processional and Hymn to Joy (Sing with all the saints in glory) for the recessional. Jesuits have a reputation for bad liturgy and bad contemporary music (remember the "St. Louis Jesuits"?) during their Masses, and they didn't disappoint at Holy Trinity, doing a really hideous Marty Haugen song called "Come to the Feast," each verse of which begins like "Ho, everyone who thinks...." (an interesting choice so soon after the Don Imus debaucle) after the offertory anthem that the congregation didn't sing. During communion, the organist/choirmaster chanted Psalm 34 with a congregational alleluia antiphon, all a capella.

The Mass setting also had the taint of bad contemporary music with unsingable congregational responses and antiphons, beginning with the "St. Augustine's Gloria" by Christopher Walker. While I'm used to responsorial Glorias in this diocese, this version had four different antiphons. The problem was that one never knew when the choir was done singing verses and when the antiphon would start, plus we didn't know which antiphon to sing. There was a similar challenge with the psalm, where some verses were sung by the cantress and some by the choir and some by both alternating, again, with it hard to know when to sing the antiphon. The Sanctus and Eucharistic Acclamations, at least, were the familiar ones from the Proulx A Community Mass, though the organist introduced the acclamations (five single, repeated notes that establish pitch and rhythm) not with voices from the singing registration, but with a loud, honky trumpet stop. The Sanctus was a plainsong setting I didn't know, and neither did the congregation, that didn't stay together and probably could have used organ accompaniment.

The musical bright spot, though, was the fact they had a decent, small choir in the balcony. They sang "Come, ye faithful, raise the strain" by R.S. Thatcher for the offertory, a piece that used an original melody by the composer instead of being an arrangement of the familiar hymn tunes.

Liturgically, they did a few different things. First, there was a touch of inclusive language (something not normally heard in a Catholic church), when at the end of the consecration, the congregation said "to the praise and glory of God's name" instead of the usual "His name." They also remained standing after the Agnus Dei instead of kneeling, and kept standing until they had returned from being communicated. The pastor, who was the celebrant, didn't incense the altar properly either at the begining of Mass or during the preparation, during the prayer of consecration he bowed instead of genuflecting after the elevations (perhaps it was a physical or health matter, but he wasn't geriatric and he didn't seem to have any physical difficulty moving around), and he wasn't a chanter.

The service leaflet stated the postlude would be the Toccata from Symphonie No. 5 by Charles-Marie Widow, something many of you probably heard last weekend after Easter Mass. As the organist began to play, though, I immediately knew that he wasn't playing the Widor! This, though, was where the Vierne came in. I stayed in my pew to hear it, and the organist acquitted himself quite well. They have an E.M. Skinner organ with about fifty ranks, all up in the balcony. Drew later told me that the organist was actually the assistant, the organist/music director having gone to Paris after Easter. Here's a picture of Drew turning pages for the organist during the postlude.

Wales's favorite hymn

His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales's favourite hymn is a little ditty called Westminster Abbey sung with the words, "Christ is made the sure foundation..." (and it's also sometimes sung with the alternative words, "Blessed city, heavenly Salem..."). I found this very interesting recording on YouTube (courtesy of that Canadian history doctoral candidate boy who reads my blog) from some cathedral in England, but, um, I don't think they are singing the official, sanctioned, and approved words......

Warm Easter services

It was twenty-three degrees at sunrise yesterday morning. I'm glad my church doesn't ever try to do outdoor Easter morning sunrise services!

This is Saint Luke's, the parish where I grew up and was once a chorister and an altar boy. The font and pascal candle are not normally in the middle of the crossing—that's just an Easter thing. I went with my parents to Easter Mass there yesterday, and saw lots and lots of people I've known since childhood.



On the left is the chapel. On the right is the organ. It's an Allen; I've played it; I can't remember the specifications.

About six or seven years ago, I used to work with the priest to try to teach him to chant, since we were doing an Evensong series during Advent. It used to be quite challenging for him. I'm happy to report, though, that yesterday at Mass he chanted during the sursum corda and the prayer of consecration and it actually sounded really good for a priest!

Here's a picture of the acolytes and choir assembling in the narthex for the processional. I was a bit surprised that they were using that crucifix. The crucifix and torches (a/k/a candles) were a memorial to my grandmother, who was buried from this parish, oh, probably twenty years ago. I never really liked the crucifix—it's a Christus Rex on a shiny brass cross—but then, I wasn't consulted, since the family left the choices up to a previous priest.

Hymns for the day were Unser Herrscher (He is risen) for the processional, O filii et filiae (O sons and daughters let us sing) and Alleluia No. 1 during communion, and Easter Hymn (Jesus Christ is risen today) for the recessional (do you know how hard it is for me to sing hymns with big, high Es and not stick out in a congregation?). They also sang an uncredited song that was printed in the service bulletin with an alleluia refrain and a repeated "I am the resurrection, I am the life, all who believe in me shall live" verse a la Taize music....it's possible that it's a composition of the organist/choirmistress. Service music included the William Mathias Gloria and Sanctus and Gerald Near's Christ Our Passover. Interestingly, they monotoned the Nicene Creed, but didn't sing the Lord's Prayer.

The choir sang "Easter Fanfare" by Paul Fetler as the sequence anthem. The offertory anthem was "The Day of Resurrection" by Thomas Matthews. I used to sing this anthem for the late Dr. Matthews, who was organist/choirmaster at Trinity Church in downtown Tulsa for over thirty years. He designed their eighty-some rank, four manual Moller organ, including a brilliant and loud trompette fanfare en chamade over the balcony (click the "Music" tab on the Trinity Web page if you want to see the organ specs). When he wrote "The Day of Resurrection," he used it as a vehicle to show off the Trinity organ, especially the trumpets. This was the first time I'd ever heard this anthem sung by another choir or in a church other than Trinity....and, needless to say, the little Allen electronic organ at St. Luke's was no comparison to the grand instrument at Trinity with those soaring trumpets.

The celebrant processed in cope, but he forgot to put on his chasuble during the offertory and ended up wearing only alb and stole (and no maniple, either, Mattie!). The deacon was similarly clad in alb and stole with no dalmatic.

They did bells and smells, too, but since it's only a "special occcasion" thing there, the altar boys weren't as skilled and flamboyant with the thurible as I used to be when I was an altar boy there. I always liked to do "round the worlds" and I would pre-smoke the sanctuary so I'd get better clouds of smoke hanging in the air around the altar.

Hope everyone had a nice Easter.

Buona Pascua!

Happy Easter!!!

Religious holidays

Happy Passover to all of my Jewish friends and readers.

I wanted lamb for dinner tonight. Nobody would go out with me. :(

Palm fronds

This is Palm Sunday. Easter is just a week away!

They started the service this morning at St. Stephen's out on the street corner where the Pennsylvania Avenue traffic made it nearly impossible to hear what was going on and being said, but we've seen this every year, so we knew what was happening. We just stood there holding our little strip of palm frond until it was time to walk into the church.

As always, the processional hymn was St. Theodulph. Additionally, they did Morning Song (O Zion rise to greet thy King) for the offertory, something by Jerry Brubaker "O blessed Savior now behold" for communion, and Wondrous Love for the recessional.

The choir sang a particularly interesting "Solus ad victimam" by Kennth Leighton (1929-1988) as a communion motet that had some wonderfully dissonent and loud moments. They also did an interesting Agnus Dei from Jean Langlais's Missa in Simplicitate. The rest of the Mass setting was the usual Lenten Mass of the Divine Word.

I think I was zoned out during the sermon, since I can't remember a thing. Must have been because of all that long Passion Gospel.

It's going to be an odd Holy Week. I've no plans for Passover tomorrow night, I'll be on an airplane for Maundy Thursday evening, I doubt I do anything on Good Friday. It's always odd getting to Holy Week and not having a thing to sing!

BeliefNet

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Only at a Jesuit university...

Did you know......

that when they pray at Georgetown, the priest starts out the prayer with "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Hoya Spirit."?