Chilly church

It was bitter cold this morning with a brisk, biting wind when I walked to the nine o'clock Mass at St. Stephen's. Definitely a bundle-up day and one of those times when I started thinking about how those balaclava masks really don't mess up one's hair or look all that stupid....

Not very many people were out this morning, and the pews looked surprisingly bare. Maybe with this being a holiday weekend, a lot of people were out late last night and they'll be going to later services. Or maybe they're just fair weather Christians, and they're staying home, warm in bed. What with my bad cold, that's what I should have done!

Anyway, the nine o'clock is always a "medium" Mass with cantoress only, no incense, and minimal chanting. Hymns this morning were Abbot's Leigh ("You are here! As we your people") for the processional, Repton ("He comes to us as one unknown") for the offertory, the Willcock "Taste and see" responsorial (again) for communion, and Ellecombe ("I sing the mighty pow'r of God") for the recessional.

The Mass setting was a mix of Hurd's New Plainsong Mass for the Gloria, Gregorian chant for the Alleluia and Agnus Dei (in Latin), Proulx's A Community Mass for the Sanctus and Benedictus, and Nestor's Mass for the Parishes for the Memorial Acclamation and Great Amen. The Psalm was sung to Proulx's antiphon for Psalm 28.

No real homily today. The pastor came out in choir dress and made the annual Archbishop's Appeal speech. Fortunately, it was short. After communion, a nun was there to make her community's annual appeal to the parish (it was coincidental that both appeals landed on the same day). I tend to like this particular community, since they do their work mainly with the elderly poor, a really underserved need in town because the elderly tend to be so quiet and private about their problems.

I hate it when nuns come to Mass. They always sit up front, and, during communion, they drink up all the wine!

Unlike Canterbury, where giving the congregation a swig of wine is actually an Article of Religion and running out would mean the priest would have to stop and consecrate more, Rome doesn't feel obliged to give the common people their weekly sip of vino. Some parishes here don't even bother with chalices for the congregation, so amongst the places that do offer wine, if a chalicifer runs out of wine, he/she just packs up and goes home, and you're just SOL that week for being washed pure from sin by the Blood of Christ.

The other problem with Catholic communion is the priests tend to really dilute the wine with holy water during the consecration. A lot of the time, my red wine looks like rosé! I remember as a child when I was an altar boy, I'd see these great big jugs of Gallo port in the sacristy. Using port gives the communion wine both syrupy sweetness and a little alcoholic bite, especially with Episcopal priests who tend not so much to pour some water into the wine, but who merely dribble a drop or two of water therein. For you non-Catholic/Anglican/Lutheran readers, it's the tradition of the Church to mix water and wine for the communion wine in commemoration of the passage in the Gospel according to St. John (19:34) talking about after the crucifixion of Jesus how "one of the soldiers with a spear pierced his side, and forthwith came thereout blood and water."

Today's "blizzard"

It started snowing this morning before 11 a.m. with lots of lovely, big flakes. D.C. being D.C., schools and other organizations had already started closing and calling things off before the snow even began to fall. The snow has since stopped falling and there's a little bit of tiny sleet falling. There was just barely enough snow to dust the grass.

I don't know what this town would do if they ever got a "real" snow.

Here are some pictures of St. Mary's.

Wet belfry.
	Steeples.
St. Mary's Church, Foggy Bottom.
	Western Presbyterian Church.

As always, click on the photos for a larger version in the Flickr album.

It's Sunday evening and I need an Ativan

Amongst other things I did today......

Church this morning: St. Stephen Martyr R.C.
Hymns: Rendez a Dieu ("When John baptized by Jordan's river") for the processional, Picardy for the offertory, "The Lord is my light and my salvation" (Willcock) for communion, and Salzburg for the recessional.
Mass setting: Hurd New Plainsong Mass and Proulx Mass for the City
Communion motet: Bach, "Now thank we all our God"
Homily: A new, young deacon....possibly his first Mass??

Epiphany lessons and carols

Sunday being the Feast of the Epiphany, I went Sunday evening to St. Paul's K Street with my friend Spencer (the former Marine Band bassoon player who's a lawyer now) to hear Epiphany lessons and carols sung by choir of men and boys.

The church was packed. We ended up having to sit on folding chairs in the narthex.

I thought the music was all nice, and most of the anthems were very familiar. Afterwards, I was talking to John, and he was bewailing having three boys get sick that day and not being there to sing, but I thought they sounded okay. I'm still getting used to the new English guy they brought in as choirmaster. He does an excellent job of "repairing" problems when the boys are singing, and that's not something every director can do.

Benediction followed, but we slipped out and went to eat during the postlude before they started Benediction.

There was another reception in the parish hall after the service. Lots of cheeses of all sorts and egg salad tea sandwiches made up the bulk of the menu. They were serving a Spanish cava for the wine.

Here's a list of the program:

Prelude:
Pachelbel, Vom Himmel hoch, da komm' ich her'
Titcomb, Chorale Improvisation on "Puer Natus Est"

Processional Hymn: Irby, Once in royal David's city
Invitatory Carol: arr. Ledger, Sussex Carol

First Lesson: Genesis 3: 8–15
Carol: Ord, "Adam Lay Y Bounden"

Second Lesson: Isaiah 9: 2, 6–7
Carol: arr. Lloyd, "I Saw Three Ships"
Hymn: Divinium mysterium, Of the Father's love begotten

Third Lesson: Micah 5: 2–4
Anthem: Handel, "He shall feed his flock" from Messiah
Hymn: Forest Green, O little town of Bethlehem

Fourth Lesson: Luke 1: 26–38
Motet: R. R. Terry, Myn lyking, "I saw a fair mayden sytten and sing"

Fifth Lesson: Luke 2: 1–7
Carol: Reginald Jacques, "Away in a manger"
Hymn: Wincester New, While shepherds watched their flocks by night

Sixth Lesson: Luke 2: 8–10
Carol: arr. Craig Phillips, "The holly and the Ivy"

Seventh Lesson: Matthew 2:1–12
Anthem: Mendelssohn, Christus, Op. 97 (There shall a star from Jacob come forth)
Hymn: The First Nowell, The first Nowell

Eighth Lesson: Hebrews 1:1–12
Carol: Mathias, "Sir Christemas"

Ninth Lesson: John 1:1–14
Hymn: Mendelssohn, Hark the herald angels sing

Closing Hymn: Adeste fideles, O come all ye faithful

Postlude: Keith Chapman, "Bring a torch, Jeaneatte, Isabella"

New church

Yesterday for Epiphany, Laurent and I went to the 10:45 Mass at a new church, St. Dominic's, which is over by Laurent's new apartment in the L'Enfant Plaza area. The parish dates back to the immediate post-Civil War era, and the present structure and pipe organ date to 1887.

While the exteriors are very different, I found the structural aspects of the interior worship space of the church to be very reminiscent of St. Patrick's Church downtown near Chinatown, which dates from the 1870s and may have been an inspiration to whoever designed St. Dominic's. Fortunately for St. Dominic's, they had a fairly tasteful renovation in the early 1960s, whereas St. Patrick's was attacked in the early 1990s with rather more contemporary elements. St. Dominic's remains a traditional and pretty church.

Of course, it's difficult to note these things with just one visit to a church, but the congregation appears to be older, smaller, and less affluent than some of the other parishes in town. I expected to see more ethnic diversity, but other than the altar party, the congregation seemed almost completely white. The pew book racks—usually filled with hymnals, breviaries, Bibles, tracts, etc.—were barren, and only a too-light distribution of the annual paperback temporary hymnal Breaking Bread could be found.

As we walked into the nave, I was encouraged to hear an organ and flute prelude featuring music from Messiah. The organist plays from the loft, and seemed to have a handful of instrumentalists up there helping him (at least I don't think that was a choir, since I never heard voices from up there). The minister of music, an older man with a music-theater technique, cantored from the music stand in the sanctuary.

Hymns for the morning were "Joy to the World" for the processional, "O Come All Ye Faithful" for the offertory, "We Three Kings of Orient Are" during communion, and something called "Sing a New Church" sung to Nettleton ("Come thou fount of every blessing") for the recessional.

The Mass setting was something called Mass of Glory by Bob Hurd and Ken Canedo. It's got a 1991 copyright date to it, but it has the syncopated rhythm sound of pop music from the late '60s and early '70s. They didn't use the Gloria from the Mass (I thumbed through the hymnal trying to find the Gloria setting without success), so the first thing I heard from the setting was the Sanctus; it reminded me of the song "Look at all my trials and tribulations" from the Lloyd-Webber musical Jesus Christ, Superstar.



The priests all seemed older, and I didn't get a chance to meet any of them. The liturgy was pretty standard, though virtually nothing was chanted. Ceremonial was at a minimum and they didn't use any incense. The one odd thing I noticed was after the epistle, they had the reader go to the altar to get the big missal book and walk it over to the ambo without any musical cover; then, they did the Gospel alleluia and the celebrant walked over to read. I didn't notice how the book got back to the altar.

Anyway, St. Dominic's seems to be an innocuous enough parish. It's just three blocks from Laurent's new place, so it makes more sense for him to go to Mass there than walk five blocks to the Metro stop and come all the way back to Foggy Bottom for Mass. We'll see what transpires, though, since he tends to like to go to Mass with someone, instead of alone.

I thought the stained glass windows inside the nave were particularly beautiful. They appear to be from the late 19th century. A lot of the stories were about the Dominican Order, and if you look closely, you'll see depictions of the pope wearing the old papal triple tiara.

Church in Christmastide

I'm such a bad Christian.

Yesterday was a Holy Day of Obligation, and I didn't go to church. I'd planned on going, but the several people with whom I generally go to church were all lying unconscious in their beds, and I just didn't feel like going alone. At one point, I started to go to one of the neighborhood churches, but when I checked their Web sites for a start time, they'd not updated their calendars, so I didn't know when to show up.

Sunday, though, Laurent wandered over and we ventured off to St. Stephen for the 11 o'clock Mass, where they were observing the Feast of the Holy Family. The celebrant was all excited about it, and told us during the homily that that's because his middle name is Joseph.

Hymns were Irby for the processional, Divinum Mysterium for the offertory, a nasty responsorial version of Greensleeves for communion marching music, and Gloria for the recessional. Proulx's Mass for the City made up most of the Mass setting, with Gregorian chant Kyrie and Agnus Dei, and Hurd's New Plainsong Mass for the Gloria.

The choir sang local CUA professor Leo Nestor's anthem "Who Comes?" as a post-communion motet. It was a sweet song reminiscent of carols like the well-known British atheist John Rutter's "What Sweeter Music".

After Mass, I snapped a photo of the organ and some of the choir (usually they have 8 to 10 singers), and a picture of the sanctuary still bedecked in Christmas greenery (remember, it's still "Christmas" in the Church through next Saturday).

Midnight Mass '07

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christmas in Washington

Merry Christmas, everyone!


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




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



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



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



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

Latin Advent IV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gaudete

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

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

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

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

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