This has been a powerful three months.
I am overwhelmed with gratitude for this tremendous gift from Mount Olive, and the board of directors and singers of the National Lutheran Choir. As I traveled, I often had to explain what I was doing, and people marveled at the fact that Mount Olive and the choir would allow such a thing. (I think it is not only something they "allow", they would probably insist on it - one NLC singer told me he selfishly wanted it to happen - he knew it would energize the next few years...). I have to say, it really made Mount Olive and NLC look good, although that would not be important to either, or the reason for the sabbatical leave.
Susan has learned through her research, that the quickest path to creativity is a break in the pattern. This opens up new pathways in the brain. This has occurred.
For me, the path to learning which goes deep and lasts long in my memory is through experience. Certainly I can read books and (shudder here) complete degrees, but there's something about my brain cells that causes things I see, hear and experience to be remembered far more effectively. This has occurred.
To those of you who helped this sabbatical occur: Thank you from the inner most depth of my being. I feel like I have made the most of this time. I did not sit on my hands and sleep these three months, although I did enjoy forgetting what day it was. I got up and went everywhere I could afford to go. (and perhaps more than we could afford....) I wanted to experience the best of the best, and did that. I also learned through (sorry to admit) negative experiences. I learned again what it's like for the visitor. I learned how important, valuable, and hospitable historic liturgy is. I was reminded about how many places exists where there are profound and wonderful things going on. I was reminded about how many hard-working folks there are who care deeply and do their best, and often without much attention for it, and sometimes are met with slaps in the face. This includes both church musicians and pastors to be sure, but I often thought of that with the airline people: flight attendants, pilots, service agents - who have been bumped around a lot lately, treated poorly by the airline yet still can smile at and with us passengers. I even kind of grew to appreciated those business super-travelers who hover at the gates to be the first to board in first-class cabin: they too are loved creations of God!
Mostly, I am grateful and excited about what we GET to be and do as Lutherans. We get to combine the wonderful imaginative organ playing I heard in France with the outstanding Choral music I heard in St. Thomas Church, New York, and we GET to sing our hearts out as a congregation, which in my experience (which now is broader) is uniquely outstanding at Mount Olive - although we do not hold exclusive rights on that. We GET to use the historic/hospitable liturgy - through which we GET to highlight something other than ourselves: God.
And this extended absence has also proven the old cliche: "absence makes the heart fonder." I have truly fallen further deep in love with the two organizations with whom we GET to share our selves: Mount Olive and the National Lutheran Choir. I am completely committed, and eager to return with many new ideas ready to go.
Luckiest guy alive.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
Thoughts/experiences as "THE VISITOR"
For most Sundays of this time on Sabbatical, I have attended many services as the venerated "visitor." Recognizing that some of my thoughts about this may be more related to my personality style I offer them for ponderage. (FYI: I rode the fence on the Meyers/Briggs introvert/extrovert chart. I do have strong extrovert tendencies, but I also gain energy through solitude. I know some of you are choking right now: "Introvert?! I don't think so!!" I actually can gain energy both ways) With that in mind, consider my thoughts about my experiences with a grain of salt, with a raised eye-brow, or ignore them. I can admit that there is the possibility that some visitors look for different things than I. Sigh.
I do NOT like attention when visiting a church. The main thing is: I'm there for the same reason everyone else there is: to worship God. To sing the faith, to hear God's word, to participate in the Holy Meal. We're all there as equals: long time "member", visitor, young, middle-aged, older, single, coupled, gay, straight, balding, thick hair, over-weight, under-weight, extrovert, introvert, all the same: all part of the much bigger picture - God's people living creatively in creation.
What comes off in many places (intentionally or unintentionally ) is that many congregations think the visitor is there BECAUSE OF THEM. There is a tendency to regard visitors as a piece of meat for the "financial and human resources" of the church membership rolls (I actually heard that phrase used in a church some time ago). Not once did I attend a church liturgy because I was thinking about membership. Not once. Yet in some places I was bombarded with commercials about membership. Makes me want to run. If someone is "interested" in that, would it not be obvious to them what to do about that and not be something that warrants mentioning all over the place?
Also - I got so tired of hearing and seeing the word "welcome" and wanted to say out loud: "If you have to say and write it so often, seems like there may be a problem". Just DO it, and do it with the sense of we're all there for the same reason. This was poignantly illustrated by a two-day experience in France. One evening at the faith community in Taize France - overwhelming efforts to say and print the word "welcome" yet I could participate very little in the liturgy, to the next evening in Vezelay France, doing evening prayer with the monks and sisters who never once made eye contact with me, but I was overwhelmed with a sense of welcome into the liturgy. Even the man with the irritating cell phone was not shunned - he too was welcome - evident because no one batted an eye at the rings of his phone or his noisy exit because the focus was God, not him, or the monks and sisters themselves. (Ok, I'm guilty. I noticed him. I need to learn a lesson from the Monks and sisters)
I loved the places where I felt one with everyone there. We all did what was planned (on our behalf) for us to do - no "target" group singled out with any special attention beyond God. Sermons were not laden with insider stories or personal "know me" stories - but were about God. Musical style was unified and expressible by all and not "audience targeted," but rather God targeted, and had purpose in the flow of the entire liturgy, and was truthful to who was there.
Most surprising were my experiences with places that simply did the historic order of liturgy, whether it was a prayer office or the Eucharist. (I know - my Lutheranism is showing!) I could participate - I knew what came up, when, why, and could do ritual with everyone because I felt the larger picture and not a local one. And I could add my practices to theirs without grand-standing. This was especially noticeable when I was in a foreign country and couldn't understand the language very well. It's at places where they "make it up" that things quickly becomes more about them - intentionally or not. And to those who claim following the historic liturgy excludes the visitor, how should one respond? Take the liturgy away from EVERYONE? If a visitor doesn't know what's coming up or understand what's going on, is the response to remove it from everyone? And why assume they don't? We should focus on understanding the power of example, or re-examine what we do and why and evaluate if this is still meaningful.
I feel it will take some years for the Church (ecumenically) to learn what happens when the church puts all the evangelism eggs into one basket: worship, which was such a huge effort in the church during the 1990's. It's a mixed agenda that can harm the body. My personal suspicion is that where this has "worked" (and define "worked" as you wish) there is something else that was also present that really made it appear "successful" (again, define "successful" as you wish - I'm not so sure it was).
True worship can only be that.
I do NOT like attention when visiting a church. The main thing is: I'm there for the same reason everyone else there is: to worship God. To sing the faith, to hear God's word, to participate in the Holy Meal. We're all there as equals: long time "member", visitor, young, middle-aged, older, single, coupled, gay, straight, balding, thick hair, over-weight, under-weight, extrovert, introvert, all the same: all part of the much bigger picture - God's people living creatively in creation.
What comes off in many places (intentionally or unintentionally ) is that many congregations think the visitor is there BECAUSE OF THEM. There is a tendency to regard visitors as a piece of meat for the "financial and human resources" of the church membership rolls (I actually heard that phrase used in a church some time ago). Not once did I attend a church liturgy because I was thinking about membership. Not once. Yet in some places I was bombarded with commercials about membership. Makes me want to run. If someone is "interested" in that, would it not be obvious to them what to do about that and not be something that warrants mentioning all over the place?
Also - I got so tired of hearing and seeing the word "welcome" and wanted to say out loud: "If you have to say and write it so often, seems like there may be a problem". Just DO it, and do it with the sense of we're all there for the same reason. This was poignantly illustrated by a two-day experience in France. One evening at the faith community in Taize France - overwhelming efforts to say and print the word "welcome" yet I could participate very little in the liturgy, to the next evening in Vezelay France, doing evening prayer with the monks and sisters who never once made eye contact with me, but I was overwhelmed with a sense of welcome into the liturgy. Even the man with the irritating cell phone was not shunned - he too was welcome - evident because no one batted an eye at the rings of his phone or his noisy exit because the focus was God, not him, or the monks and sisters themselves. (Ok, I'm guilty. I noticed him. I need to learn a lesson from the Monks and sisters)
I loved the places where I felt one with everyone there. We all did what was planned (on our behalf) for us to do - no "target" group singled out with any special attention beyond God. Sermons were not laden with insider stories or personal "know me" stories - but were about God. Musical style was unified and expressible by all and not "audience targeted," but rather God targeted, and had purpose in the flow of the entire liturgy, and was truthful to who was there.
Most surprising were my experiences with places that simply did the historic order of liturgy, whether it was a prayer office or the Eucharist. (I know - my Lutheranism is showing!) I could participate - I knew what came up, when, why, and could do ritual with everyone because I felt the larger picture and not a local one. And I could add my practices to theirs without grand-standing. This was especially noticeable when I was in a foreign country and couldn't understand the language very well. It's at places where they "make it up" that things quickly becomes more about them - intentionally or not. And to those who claim following the historic liturgy excludes the visitor, how should one respond? Take the liturgy away from EVERYONE? If a visitor doesn't know what's coming up or understand what's going on, is the response to remove it from everyone? And why assume they don't? We should focus on understanding the power of example, or re-examine what we do and why and evaluate if this is still meaningful.
I feel it will take some years for the Church (ecumenically) to learn what happens when the church puts all the evangelism eggs into one basket: worship, which was such a huge effort in the church during the 1990's. It's a mixed agenda that can harm the body. My personal suspicion is that where this has "worked" (and define "worked" as you wish) there is something else that was also present that really made it appear "successful" (again, define "successful" as you wish - I'm not so sure it was).
True worship can only be that.
Easter 3 - Wausau, WI
Another hymn festival...another shot in the arm for those hard-working leaders of the local chapter of the American Guild of Organists in Wausau, WI.
The event was held at First Presbyterian Church, downtown Wausau. It was a great event - good choir, good turn out for the congregation and community, good singing, good response. All this is mostly due to the hard work of the local planners. They really work hard for these events, and it sometimes doesn't seem fair for me to show up Friday and do the weekend in a whirlwind, and get a lot of the credit. Sigh. Anyway, it was a great experience.
It also surprised many of them for me to attend worship there. It is always a good thing to experience liturgy in contexts other than my typical place. The service was thoughtful, carefully planned and thematic - very nice to see thoughtfulness put into the mix. One practice I keep forgetting exists: for Communion, the bread and wine are brought to the people IN THEIR pews! All eat the bread right away, and wait to all drink the shot-glass (or grape-juice) at the same time. Reminded me of the "Love Feast" we experienced in a Moravian Church in Bethlehem, PA - where they did this kind of distribution with Sweet rolls and coffee (for real!! in a very ritualistic way!!), all drinking the coffee at the same moment - as the music came to its climax (and no words! Hmmmm...)
Nevertheless, it is always wonderful to witness how meaningful a congregation's worship is to them. They really do love God!
The event was held at First Presbyterian Church, downtown Wausau. It was a great event - good choir, good turn out for the congregation and community, good singing, good response. All this is mostly due to the hard work of the local planners. They really work hard for these events, and it sometimes doesn't seem fair for me to show up Friday and do the weekend in a whirlwind, and get a lot of the credit. Sigh. Anyway, it was a great experience.
It also surprised many of them for me to attend worship there. It is always a good thing to experience liturgy in contexts other than my typical place. The service was thoughtful, carefully planned and thematic - very nice to see thoughtfulness put into the mix. One practice I keep forgetting exists: for Communion, the bread and wine are brought to the people IN THEIR pews! All eat the bread right away, and wait to all drink the shot-glass (or grape-juice) at the same time. Reminded me of the "Love Feast" we experienced in a Moravian Church in Bethlehem, PA - where they did this kind of distribution with Sweet rolls and coffee (for real!! in a very ritualistic way!!), all drinking the coffee at the same moment - as the music came to its climax (and no words! Hmmmm...)
Nevertheless, it is always wonderful to witness how meaningful a congregation's worship is to them. They really do love God!
Easter 2 - Hymn Festival, WA/DC
Washington DC (er, Springfield, VA, actually)
The weekend of Easter 2 was spent at St. Mark's Lutheran Church, Springfield VA with Susan, providing a workshop all day Saturday, and a Hymn Festival Sunday afternoon. Again, these are important. The choir and the music leaders form a very active facet of this congregation's life - and these events are always a good shot in the arm for things that are so meaningful and important to them. The workshop Saturday was about choral vowels, rehearsing music for the hymn festival, accompanying hymns of varying styles, and Susan led a workshop on poetry and hymn texts. They had tremendous participation all day - a very high number from their own choir, and also area church musicians. Their own pastors attended as well, which was really nice to see.
The three music staff people there are very hard working (I'm guessing way beyond their "employment status") and committed. They were very involved all day as learners themselves as well as coordinators.
What really struck me about this place was their recent journey. (As in the past five years or so). Susan and I have been to this parish before - in fact, twice before offering hymn festivals. They have always been a place which made use of a good variety of musical style, but predominately "traditional" liturgically and musically - and were excited about that. They had, for example, put in a very good pipe organ in the past 15 years and were extremely happy with this and all it represented. A few years ago, however, a "consultant" from the ELCA came and spent one weekend with them and told them they needed to change everything by offering a contemporary service at the prime hour (11 am), and hold simultaneous Sunday School and worship. Being eagerly faithful, they took the advice to heart, implemented it, and just about destroyed the congregation. They had always been excited about high quality music and liturgy and this process sent many of their long-time members OUT THE DOOR, looking for depth in liturgy and music, feeling wounded about all the years of effort, energy, money and pieces of their heart being sent out the door with them. In the end, the "contemporary service" fizzled out and was very recently abandoned. Things are slowly coming back to life, but may never return to the fervor that was. This is more than tragic. It seems criminal.
What bothers me about this is the notion that the people there (and their journey, their contribution to what goes on there) are not of significance as they consider how to live as God's people. There may indeed be places where the recommended schedule of offerings connects with additional folks, but it's obviously not the case in places like this. And I continue to grow stronger with the feelings that: WHAT WILL DRAW THE VENERATED "VISITOR" IN will not so much be the style of what is done, but the witness of the depth and meaningfulness of those doing it. As Eric Routley said: "People won't leave saying 'what great music (or preaching) this congregation has," but rather "What a great God these people have!"
Memory is a critical part of a community's life. It needs to be in balance with vision. Take memory away and what remains is a congregation with Alzheimer's: bodies with increasingly empty souls as the memory fades. Church music can never be like the radio - because it refuses to be boxed in, delegated to an electronic speaker with participation limited to dialing until we find what we as individuals uniquely prefer, then using our ears only. We get to use our voices, with others. And the voices sing memory - the collective song. The songs of the church are people's faith journey, adopted by a the entire community.
This parish is testament to how this is true: the song will not disappear. Even after an assault, it returns to life and will bring new shoots from the old roots.
The weekend of Easter 2 was spent at St. Mark's Lutheran Church, Springfield VA with Susan, providing a workshop all day Saturday, and a Hymn Festival Sunday afternoon. Again, these are important. The choir and the music leaders form a very active facet of this congregation's life - and these events are always a good shot in the arm for things that are so meaningful and important to them. The workshop Saturday was about choral vowels, rehearsing music for the hymn festival, accompanying hymns of varying styles, and Susan led a workshop on poetry and hymn texts. They had tremendous participation all day - a very high number from their own choir, and also area church musicians. Their own pastors attended as well, which was really nice to see.
The three music staff people there are very hard working (I'm guessing way beyond their "employment status") and committed. They were very involved all day as learners themselves as well as coordinators.
What really struck me about this place was their recent journey. (As in the past five years or so). Susan and I have been to this parish before - in fact, twice before offering hymn festivals. They have always been a place which made use of a good variety of musical style, but predominately "traditional" liturgically and musically - and were excited about that. They had, for example, put in a very good pipe organ in the past 15 years and were extremely happy with this and all it represented. A few years ago, however, a "consultant" from the ELCA came and spent one weekend with them and told them they needed to change everything by offering a contemporary service at the prime hour (11 am), and hold simultaneous Sunday School and worship. Being eagerly faithful, they took the advice to heart, implemented it, and just about destroyed the congregation. They had always been excited about high quality music and liturgy and this process sent many of their long-time members OUT THE DOOR, looking for depth in liturgy and music, feeling wounded about all the years of effort, energy, money and pieces of their heart being sent out the door with them. In the end, the "contemporary service" fizzled out and was very recently abandoned. Things are slowly coming back to life, but may never return to the fervor that was. This is more than tragic. It seems criminal.
What bothers me about this is the notion that the people there (and their journey, their contribution to what goes on there) are not of significance as they consider how to live as God's people. There may indeed be places where the recommended schedule of offerings connects with additional folks, but it's obviously not the case in places like this. And I continue to grow stronger with the feelings that: WHAT WILL DRAW THE VENERATED "VISITOR" IN will not so much be the style of what is done, but the witness of the depth and meaningfulness of those doing it. As Eric Routley said: "People won't leave saying 'what great music (or preaching) this congregation has," but rather "What a great God these people have!"
Memory is a critical part of a community's life. It needs to be in balance with vision. Take memory away and what remains is a congregation with Alzheimer's: bodies with increasingly empty souls as the memory fades. Church music can never be like the radio - because it refuses to be boxed in, delegated to an electronic speaker with participation limited to dialing until we find what we as individuals uniquely prefer, then using our ears only. We get to use our voices, with others. And the voices sing memory - the collective song. The songs of the church are people's faith journey, adopted by a the entire community.
This parish is testament to how this is true: the song will not disappear. Even after an assault, it returns to life and will bring new shoots from the old roots.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Holy Week - after thoughts
This was clearly one of the top experiences of my sabbatical so far.
St Peters with their innovation and clear high participation, St. Thomas with its liturgical fullness and astounding choral work - both different experiences, but both quite invigorating. I'm full of ideas. The worst part is that I'll have to wait an entire year to put them to use. Don't worry - I'm writing them down, and I've saved all the bulletins.
I can't get over the choir and their director at St. Thomas. Every word and line, it seems, is thoroughly thought through with regard to how to sing it. Their expressive singing, variety of historical styles, clear and solid sense of harmony and pitch yet never at the expense of line was downright moving. They sang a total of 21 anthems/movements of the liturgy, 10 different psalm settings - both Gregorian and four-part Anglican chant, numerous hymn stanzas and descants. An astounding amount of work. No service felt short-changed to allow preparation time for another. How do they do it?
My experiences during these weeks have taught me to work on what great opportunity we have as Lutherans at Mount Olive, and with the National Lutheran Choir.
In France I heard the best of the improvisation (in liturgical context) for the organ. In England and at St. Thomas I heard the best of the choral tradition. Lutherans have the opportunity to analyze and think (we're not alone in that, by the way). What we can bring to the table is a synthesis of all these things. French organ improvisations, English choral tradition, embodied historical/liturgical context.
We do that to some extent already. And ours is a place where folks come to hear the CONGREGATION sing. We really have something going on there. (We're not alone, though - the folks at St. Peter's sing with amazing vibrancy too!)
However, rather than hand all the settings of the ordinary of the mass and psalms to the choir - can we come up with exciting settings (like that of Langlais) that include the people too? Same with the psalmody? Can the organ improvisation serve the singing of the hymns by the people - AND other parts of the service? I envision an improvised prelude that introduces the entire liturgy with the same purpose and function of my introductions to each hymn. Custom fit to that particular day and its thrust. And, the choir can do more: thoroughly think through and prepare all our chanting, all of our motets /anthems/settings within the flow of the liturgy. We are that church that could do something like the St. Matthew Passion on Good Friday at noon. (maybe not that huge a thing to take on both in prep time and financially, but something LIKE that). Who else?
We're going to do it all. Time to "gird our loins"!
St Peters with their innovation and clear high participation, St. Thomas with its liturgical fullness and astounding choral work - both different experiences, but both quite invigorating. I'm full of ideas. The worst part is that I'll have to wait an entire year to put them to use. Don't worry - I'm writing them down, and I've saved all the bulletins.
I can't get over the choir and their director at St. Thomas. Every word and line, it seems, is thoroughly thought through with regard to how to sing it. Their expressive singing, variety of historical styles, clear and solid sense of harmony and pitch yet never at the expense of line was downright moving. They sang a total of 21 anthems/movements of the liturgy, 10 different psalm settings - both Gregorian and four-part Anglican chant, numerous hymn stanzas and descants. An astounding amount of work. No service felt short-changed to allow preparation time for another. How do they do it?
My experiences during these weeks have taught me to work on what great opportunity we have as Lutherans at Mount Olive, and with the National Lutheran Choir.
In France I heard the best of the improvisation (in liturgical context) for the organ. In England and at St. Thomas I heard the best of the choral tradition. Lutherans have the opportunity to analyze and think (we're not alone in that, by the way). What we can bring to the table is a synthesis of all these things. French organ improvisations, English choral tradition, embodied historical/liturgical context.
We do that to some extent already. And ours is a place where folks come to hear the CONGREGATION sing. We really have something going on there. (We're not alone, though - the folks at St. Peter's sing with amazing vibrancy too!)
However, rather than hand all the settings of the ordinary of the mass and psalms to the choir - can we come up with exciting settings (like that of Langlais) that include the people too? Same with the psalmody? Can the organ improvisation serve the singing of the hymns by the people - AND other parts of the service? I envision an improvised prelude that introduces the entire liturgy with the same purpose and function of my introductions to each hymn. Custom fit to that particular day and its thrust. And, the choir can do more: thoroughly think through and prepare all our chanting, all of our motets /anthems/settings within the flow of the liturgy. We are that church that could do something like the St. Matthew Passion on Good Friday at noon. (maybe not that huge a thing to take on both in prep time and financially, but something LIKE that). Who else?
We're going to do it all. Time to "gird our loins"!
Easter Morning - St. Thomas
I couldn't wait to get back to St. Thomas for more. To be sure to get a spot, I arrived an hour and a half early. Good thing. Most of the center spots for the front third of this long and narrow nave were already taken. I was still able to find a good place, though - so I plopped down to stay in a middle spot about 8 pews back.
What a feast - in many and various ways. The half-hour prelude was for brass and organ - music by Walter Pelz (a good Lutheran - one of ours!), Gabrieli, Dupre, Bach, and Richard Strauss. Most of the major eras in music history - all beautifully done, of course. It was about a 10-12 piece brass ensemble with percussion, all clearly New York professionals. Never a clam. Never off from the ensemble. Thrilling.
The liturgy itself was extremely thrilling. (have I used that word yet?) Two procession hymns: Jesus Christ is Risen Today with John Rutter's arrangement for organ and brass, and then "The Day of Resurrection". It took that long for the full procession to occur in its fullness, and dignified pace. Smoke billowing everywhere, two crosses dressed with Lillies everyone bowing deeply for both, personnel galore. Terribly exciting.
Then the Gloria sung by the choir in Langlais' setting - with brass. The choral work at this place is truly the finest I've ever heard. This is countrapuntal - I could clearly hear each entrance, yet the counterpoint parts remained clear and musically expressive, but definitely background as another session would enter with the subject. During the gloria, he altar was censed.
The whole service was like this: thrilling moments, liturgical fullness, done with full body mind and spirit by the people in the pews without coaxing from a presider (no verbal stand/sit directions, for example - that is our job to figure out). Complete energy in singing and spoken/shouted responses. Reminded me of home.
The choir sang an anthem by Bairstow during the offering - a romantic style piece, and as I had come to expect, beautifully sung in complete romantic style. Full bodied tone, ebb and flow with rubato when appropriate, but all subtle enough to not be over the top and sappy.
The settings of the Sanctus and Agnus Dei were again that of Langlais, but with added brass. Completely thrilling.
The motets during distribution were the same set from the Vigil service, but I didn't mind hearing them again. Especially "This Joyful Eastertide".
The postlude was Gigout's "Grand Cheour Dialogue" for brass and organ. Not a clam or smudge. this piece is one of my favorites (and has been the postlude at MO for the past 4 or so years). What a thrill to hear it.
I'm exhausted, but totally invigorated. This was a completely fulfilling four days. Two contrasting parallel experiences - and important to experience the full triduum at both. The journey is a deep one, and I am grateful to have had the opportunity to do that - as a person in the pews. (Even if I did have to "look surprised" at the second proclamation of Easter...)
The good cap to the day was that my brother and my sister in law live in close by Philadelphia. I could hop a train, and still have Easter dinner with family! By 4:00 I was with them in their home. Lucky me again!
What a feast - in many and various ways. The half-hour prelude was for brass and organ - music by Walter Pelz (a good Lutheran - one of ours!), Gabrieli, Dupre, Bach, and Richard Strauss. Most of the major eras in music history - all beautifully done, of course. It was about a 10-12 piece brass ensemble with percussion, all clearly New York professionals. Never a clam. Never off from the ensemble. Thrilling.
The liturgy itself was extremely thrilling. (have I used that word yet?) Two procession hymns: Jesus Christ is Risen Today with John Rutter's arrangement for organ and brass, and then "The Day of Resurrection". It took that long for the full procession to occur in its fullness, and dignified pace. Smoke billowing everywhere, two crosses dressed with Lillies everyone bowing deeply for both, personnel galore. Terribly exciting.
Then the Gloria sung by the choir in Langlais' setting - with brass. The choral work at this place is truly the finest I've ever heard. This is countrapuntal - I could clearly hear each entrance, yet the counterpoint parts remained clear and musically expressive, but definitely background as another session would enter with the subject. During the gloria, he altar was censed.
The whole service was like this: thrilling moments, liturgical fullness, done with full body mind and spirit by the people in the pews without coaxing from a presider (no verbal stand/sit directions, for example - that is our job to figure out). Complete energy in singing and spoken/shouted responses. Reminded me of home.
The choir sang an anthem by Bairstow during the offering - a romantic style piece, and as I had come to expect, beautifully sung in complete romantic style. Full bodied tone, ebb and flow with rubato when appropriate, but all subtle enough to not be over the top and sappy.
The settings of the Sanctus and Agnus Dei were again that of Langlais, but with added brass. Completely thrilling.
The motets during distribution were the same set from the Vigil service, but I didn't mind hearing them again. Especially "This Joyful Eastertide".
The postlude was Gigout's "Grand Cheour Dialogue" for brass and organ. Not a clam or smudge. this piece is one of my favorites (and has been the postlude at MO for the past 4 or so years). What a thrill to hear it.
I'm exhausted, but totally invigorated. This was a completely fulfilling four days. Two contrasting parallel experiences - and important to experience the full triduum at both. The journey is a deep one, and I am grateful to have had the opportunity to do that - as a person in the pews. (Even if I did have to "look surprised" at the second proclamation of Easter...)
The good cap to the day was that my brother and my sister in law live in close by Philadelphia. I could hop a train, and still have Easter dinner with family! By 4:00 I was with them in their home. Lucky me again!
Two Easter Vigil services!
I was able to attend the Vigil service at St. Thomas at 5:30, and then another at St. Peter's Lutheran which started at 10 pm. Even time for a bite to eat between.
Fantastic experiences, both. I have to say that being on this side of the fence, the Triduum has a greater impact. When constantly rehearsing this music (for weeks prior) all mixed together, one doesn't get the same impact as it does for the worshippers - showing up and hearing the music in its liturgical context for the first time helps the three days unveil themselves in proper sequence. Musicians do a huge sacrifice in this way, but now I understand even more how important this is!
St. Thomas
This service was closest to our at Mount Olive in structure and liturgical/ritual action. We began in darkness with a new fire in the narthex. As the candle came down the aisle all of ours were lit - with the sung sentences. The first one started rather high, and I wondered where it would go from there. It went higher. The third time we were singing in the stratosphere - full voiced! From there to the readings: Creation, Floodd, Abraham's Sacrifice, Israel's Deliverance form the Red Sea, and the valley of the dry bones. After each, the men of the choir sang a Psalm response to a Gregorian tone. Simple but beautifully done. This choir is truly astonishing. Every line of text was clearly thought out, bringing important words, and giving a sense of direction. I was intrigued by the simplicity of doing the responses this way. It truly pointed to the Psalm and its text rather than striving to "be interesting" or clever. We, on the other hand, were silent. Not sure about that...
The choir then sang Palestrina's Sicut Cervus as transition into the baptismal service. This has to be the most beautiful rendering of this piece I've heard - every line fully blossoms, and each line (and ensemble of lines) grew to climaxes, then floated gently into cadences. Stunning.
There were four baptisms: one adult and three babies. We also renewed our Baptism. This was followed by the Great Litany of Saints (and we asked all of them by name to pray for us!) as the procession went from the font, (front side transept - similar to us!) down the side aisle, then up the center, sprinkling as they went.
This to the First Eucharist of Easter, (and people really shouted the responses) to singing "Jesus Christ is Risen Today" Couldn't sing past the lump in my throat it was so exciting and moving. The hymn just after the Homily (they don't have the tradition of the Hymn of the Day as we do) was a setting of "Christus vincit" by Gere Hancock, a former musician there. The congregation sang high "f" and "g" ! Who would have thought this possible? But they did it, and it took energy, which they (ah, "we"!) put forth!
Then this choir: Widor's "Surrexit a Mortuis" organ and choir, Sanctus and Agnus Dei by Langlais (full body chills again), then four motets during distribution: John Taverner (the 16th century one), Bassano, Dutch Carol (This Joyful Eastertide), and Scheidt's Surrexit Christus.
I can't get over this choir. Such diversity, such precision, such expression, such clean details (to the extent that one forgets about those) - such meaningful singing! "This Joyful Eastertide" was light bouyant and playful yet 100% unified in their playfulness. Astounding.
The service ended with a procession out, and the Widor Toccata as postlude. Everyone stayed to hear it.
St Peter's Lutheran
Quite the contrast! Being a very contemporary building - at the base of the Citibank Tower, the walls of glass overlook a plaza one level below street level, but the citi looks in, and we out onto the city while there. The space is kind of in the round, and they are completely flexible with their set up for every liturgy.
We casually gathered in what they call "The Livingroom" - a parish hall just off the nave. After a word or two of instruction, we went outside into the plaza for the new fire and the opening liturgy. We all then processed into the nave, standing around the altar and pascal candle during the singing of the Exultet. During this our candles were lit. Following this, we sat for the reading of the stories: Creation, Flood, Abraham being tested, Deliverance at the Red Sea, Dr Bones, Call of Johan, and the Fiery Furnace. Each was read by several people from different places in the room - not entirely taking on "roles" as a dramatic reading, but passing lines back and forth. Kind of interesting. Each reading was followed by a soloist singing an African American spiritual. (The soloist was African American himself - and very convincing, drawing us in). We, on the other hand, were silent.
This too, led to the baptism of an Adult who had been in training.
What followed was most interesting: during the singing of both the Great Litany and the Litany of Saints (yes, both) we literally took the "Light of Christ" (The Pascal Candle, and our lit candles - at least until the wind blew them out) outside, and we processed around the city block singing these responses. Very powerfull. Amongst the honking taxis, pedestrians trying to walk past and through us, we sang with vested liturgical leaders and choir singers mixed amongst us.
This led us back to the nave for the Easter Eucharist. Lights blasted on, and we sang the Gloria. (From whence cometh this tradition? I missed "Now All the Vault of Heaven Resounds"). Sequence Hymn (Christ is Arisen) reading of the Gospel, and then the chorale "Christ Jesus Lay in Death's Strong Bands" as a kind of hymn of the day. Wonderful progression.
For distribution, we gathered standing around the altar. Very moving.
The postlude, again, was Toccata from Symphony V for organ.
Very different experiences, both following the ancient pattern in different ways.
Wow.
Fantastic experiences, both. I have to say that being on this side of the fence, the Triduum has a greater impact. When constantly rehearsing this music (for weeks prior) all mixed together, one doesn't get the same impact as it does for the worshippers - showing up and hearing the music in its liturgical context for the first time helps the three days unveil themselves in proper sequence. Musicians do a huge sacrifice in this way, but now I understand even more how important this is!
St. Thomas
This service was closest to our at Mount Olive in structure and liturgical/ritual action. We began in darkness with a new fire in the narthex. As the candle came down the aisle all of ours were lit - with the sung sentences. The first one started rather high, and I wondered where it would go from there. It went higher. The third time we were singing in the stratosphere - full voiced! From there to the readings: Creation, Floodd, Abraham's Sacrifice, Israel's Deliverance form the Red Sea, and the valley of the dry bones. After each, the men of the choir sang a Psalm response to a Gregorian tone. Simple but beautifully done. This choir is truly astonishing. Every line of text was clearly thought out, bringing important words, and giving a sense of direction. I was intrigued by the simplicity of doing the responses this way. It truly pointed to the Psalm and its text rather than striving to "be interesting" or clever. We, on the other hand, were silent. Not sure about that...
The choir then sang Palestrina's Sicut Cervus as transition into the baptismal service. This has to be the most beautiful rendering of this piece I've heard - every line fully blossoms, and each line (and ensemble of lines) grew to climaxes, then floated gently into cadences. Stunning.
There were four baptisms: one adult and three babies. We also renewed our Baptism. This was followed by the Great Litany of Saints (and we asked all of them by name to pray for us!) as the procession went from the font, (front side transept - similar to us!) down the side aisle, then up the center, sprinkling as they went.
This to the First Eucharist of Easter, (and people really shouted the responses) to singing "Jesus Christ is Risen Today" Couldn't sing past the lump in my throat it was so exciting and moving. The hymn just after the Homily (they don't have the tradition of the Hymn of the Day as we do) was a setting of "Christus vincit" by Gere Hancock, a former musician there. The congregation sang high "f" and "g" ! Who would have thought this possible? But they did it, and it took energy, which they (ah, "we"!) put forth!
Then this choir: Widor's "Surrexit a Mortuis" organ and choir, Sanctus and Agnus Dei by Langlais (full body chills again), then four motets during distribution: John Taverner (the 16th century one), Bassano, Dutch Carol (This Joyful Eastertide), and Scheidt's Surrexit Christus.
I can't get over this choir. Such diversity, such precision, such expression, such clean details (to the extent that one forgets about those) - such meaningful singing! "This Joyful Eastertide" was light bouyant and playful yet 100% unified in their playfulness. Astounding.
The service ended with a procession out, and the Widor Toccata as postlude. Everyone stayed to hear it.
St Peter's Lutheran
Quite the contrast! Being a very contemporary building - at the base of the Citibank Tower, the walls of glass overlook a plaza one level below street level, but the citi looks in, and we out onto the city while there. The space is kind of in the round, and they are completely flexible with their set up for every liturgy.
We casually gathered in what they call "The Livingroom" - a parish hall just off the nave. After a word or two of instruction, we went outside into the plaza for the new fire and the opening liturgy. We all then processed into the nave, standing around the altar and pascal candle during the singing of the Exultet. During this our candles were lit. Following this, we sat for the reading of the stories: Creation, Flood, Abraham being tested, Deliverance at the Red Sea, Dr Bones, Call of Johan, and the Fiery Furnace. Each was read by several people from different places in the room - not entirely taking on "roles" as a dramatic reading, but passing lines back and forth. Kind of interesting. Each reading was followed by a soloist singing an African American spiritual. (The soloist was African American himself - and very convincing, drawing us in). We, on the other hand, were silent.
This too, led to the baptism of an Adult who had been in training.
What followed was most interesting: during the singing of both the Great Litany and the Litany of Saints (yes, both) we literally took the "Light of Christ" (The Pascal Candle, and our lit candles - at least until the wind blew them out) outside, and we processed around the city block singing these responses. Very powerfull. Amongst the honking taxis, pedestrians trying to walk past and through us, we sang with vested liturgical leaders and choir singers mixed amongst us.
This led us back to the nave for the Easter Eucharist. Lights blasted on, and we sang the Gloria. (From whence cometh this tradition? I missed "Now All the Vault of Heaven Resounds"). Sequence Hymn (Christ is Arisen) reading of the Gospel, and then the chorale "Christ Jesus Lay in Death's Strong Bands" as a kind of hymn of the day. Wonderful progression.
For distribution, we gathered standing around the altar. Very moving.
The postlude, again, was Toccata from Symphony V for organ.
Very different experiences, both following the ancient pattern in different ways.
Wow.
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