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Pride and Pentecost
My husband and I heard Mass at the soaring National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. on Sunday. It was a sunny, cool morning outside on the steps of the capital’s largest Episcopal church, and fairly crowded with churchgoers inside its echoing interior. Since the church’s exceptional choir has not yet taken their summer break, we were treated to some truly celestial choral music.
I’m Roman Catholic and my husband is Episcopalian and we regularly visit each other’s churches in our hometown. So I was not surprised at all that the vicar of the Cathedral, who welcomed everyone, is a woman, though my own church allows only male priests. Nor was I surprised that both readers of the liturgy and also the celebrant of the Mass were women. I thought it a bit humorous that a guest priest, the lone male that was to speak to us by giving the sermon, had trouble with his microphone and couldn’t be heard at first. After a little flurry of cassocks, a working mike was found and the priest announced that he was very pleased to be here “in this season of Pentecost and of Pride.” Hmm.
The priest’s sermon dealt first with his public acknowledgement as a transgendered person years ago, at a retreat where attendees played an awareness game called “Circle of Oppression.” He tied his coming out to the theme of revelation in the Gospel reading, “What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops,” and his activism to the fervor of Pentecost, when the Apostles were divinely commissioned and inspired to proclaim Christ’s teachings. He spoke at length of the oppression suffered by him and those like him. He has been in fact so oppressed that he is now Episcopal chaplain at Boston College and a counselor to LGBT students at Harvard Divinty School.
At the end of his sermon the audience broke into applause. The Dean of the Cathedral then proclaimed how joyful the church is, that so much progress has been made in welcoming this maligned community, but that of course “there is still so much to be done.”
My husband and I then listened to the choir sing Thomas Tallis’ O Sacrum Convivium at Communion: “O Sacred Banquet in which Christ is received, the memory of his passion is renewed, the mind is filled with grace, and the pledge of future glory is given to us.” It is haunting and lyrical and the choir sang it beautifully.
I reflect now, how none in the choir needed to explain their personal behaviors to us; they didn’t preach of their individual struggles or sacrifices. Each has a lovely gift from God, and each practices it, hones it, guards it, and then offers it during the Mass, and we were the lucky bystanding beneficiaries of their art. Their performance created an aura of prayerfulness in everyone — filling the mind with grace — and directed our thoughts away from themselves and toward the Almighty, His generosity, His gifts. If any in the choir had pride in their rippling harmonies, nimble dynamics, or the flute-like purity of their singing, they were mute in voice and gesture about it.
And no one even applauded.
Excellent. I was prepared to respond with some bland remark about the national “cathedral” being a temple devoted to America rather than America’s temple devoted to God. But then you threw me a loop with the difference in applause.
How do we, and how should we, listen to a choir in church as opposed to a choir in concert?
Ideally, everything that we do, at Mass and beyond, should be a form of worship. And, ideally, “all glory and honor is Yours, Almighty Father.” Does applauding an excellent performance of worship distract from that worship? Should we try, at least temporarily, to focus on God to whom the music is devoted and not on the performance itself?
Again, what is the difference, from the perspective of a listener, between the same song’s performance in church and its performance in a commercial concert? Should there be a difference?
Pencilvania, forgive me, but I’m a little confused. Is the Episcopalian worship service referred to as “Mass?” I’m Catholic, and I guess I thought only Catholic liturgy was called “Mass.”
Can’t ever go wrong with Tallis. I, OTOH, had to listen to “I am the Bread of Life” this past Sunday. In our local church the choir loft is not used because the choir claims they “aren’t part of the liturgy way up there.” ( It reveals a poor understanding of the liturgy in my opinion.) Anyway, they are located in the sanctuary to the right of the ambo. It is very distracting and I think it is hard for them not to feel like they are performing instead of serving the liturgy. To answer Aaron’s closing question, I think there should be a difference.
It’s discouraging to hear about this sermon, but not surprising. Good grief. I’m glad you at least got to hear some fine music. As a singer, I like the thought about appreciating the gifts we are given. How many of us think often enough about what a great gift it is that there are two sexes and that they complement each other so wonderfully. Making each of us a man or a woman capable of producing children together is one of God’s greatest gifts.
If you have not seen this 1955 movie, you should. I promise you will enjoy it. It was nominated for an Academy Award for cinematography:
A Man Called Peter.
I watched it a month ago, and it was the most wonderful movie I’ve seen in years. There are some very strange scenes in it–some of the fifties perspectives and attitudes seemed strange to me. If you look past the out-of-date depiction of women in the movie, the rest is amazing.
Peter Marshall served as the chaplain to the U.S. Senate from 1947 to 1949.
Richard Todd is one of finest actors I’ve ever seen. He was actually a World War II parachute jumper with the British 6th Airborne Division.
It is available on NetFlix Watch Now.
It looks like God Was economizing in this case….
Ha!
Aaron, my understanding is that the choir’s singing is a part of the service – sometimes speaking for us all, sometimes blending with the congregation – but helping you focus on God and the prayers we are offering Him. I would not expect anyone to applaud because, as I tried to imply, the singers are selflessly humble in their worship. When I was young and growing up in the Catholic Church, I don’t remember any applauding, for anything – it would have seemed disrespectful, the Mass was just more solemn then. I hear lots of applause in churches now, and it still jars my ears – it sounds, I don’t know, worldly. It was the contrast between the sermon, which was quite literally self-centered, and the singing, which was beautifully selfless, that struck me yesterday morning.
Nerina, my husband’s Episcopal church even calls it High Mass, when it includes the choir and Eucharist. High Episcopal Masses are actually closer to pre-Vatican II Masses, as I remember them, than present day Catholic Masses are. If you live near a Rite I Episcopal Church you should stop in sometime, their Masses are beautiful – King James Version of the Bible in the readings – love it!
Jeff Mirus has an interesting post here, reflecting on St. Augustine and the temptations that come through hearing. Weighing the benefits of music in church against it’s dangers Augustine says:
Because there is so much bad music and bad singing, I am a big fan of sacred silence.
Scott, I hear ya. I too have been frustrated by the lack of prayerful silence at Mass.
Even I remember a time when applause was not common in Mass, and I’m one of Ricochet’s youngest Members. What I don’t like about it is that it’s a conclusion when people should be meditating on the reading or homily. But I suppose it’s not all bad.
Pencilvania: Nerina, my husband’s Episcopal church even calls it High Mass, when it includes the choir and Eucharist.
One would hope that if we applauded anything during Mass it would be the Eucharist.
I have the same problem, focusing on the music to exclusion of the lyrics much of the time. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. What response to God could be more fitting than beauty-inspired awe?
A hard-learned lesson about prayer is learning to shut up occasionally; to be silent, open, and attentive. As we can offer our own will up with another’s prayer, we can enjoin our adoration with another’s song.
It’s good to be able to sing along, though. That enables us to worship with our whole being, body and soul. Words of praise should be spoken or sung, not just thought.
I guess I’ll be the first to get on here and be super insensitive. Your post makes me sad, not for the music (although the long decline of church music is sad!) but just for the way the church gets swept up in social trends… My wife and I attend a church that used to be PCUSA (we moved from a PCA church, but this was the closest thing here). It changed to covenant, and if it hadn’t changed, I don’t think I could stay a member in good conscience… I’m fairly good friends with the Pastor, who is a pretty staunch liberal, and our private conversations have really discouraged me. His theology pretty clearly takes a back seat to his social preferences, and he wouldn’t recognize that in a million years. I like the church, the people, the pastor – but I have almost zero confidence in his theology. I was telling my wife that this makes me want to convert to Catholicism or Orthodoxy, for the same reason GK Chesterton mentioned in Orthodoxy. Society rises and falls with the waves, but the Church remains solid. Not sure that’s true of all Catholics, though.
Ryan, if I had more time I could have written another post just on my reaction to the whole socio-political tone of this service, just as you’ve mentioned. We had no idea what we were walking into – we had just visited our son for the weekend & were heading home to PA but stopped for Mass first. Turned out this is LGBT month and this service was I guess the culmination of several others in the past few weeks. Along with the other priests they also had Gene Robinson, the first openly gay bishop – newly divorced, I believe – from New Hampshire. The pressure for this church to be politically-oriented must be overwhelming, being where it is, but still a shame that they would succumb and subordinate their true mission.
In thinking about the whole thing, though, I thought I’d write more about the obvious (to me) difference between the humility of the choir, which I consider good and admirable, and the humanistic self-centeredness of the homily, which I consider – not.
Last Tuesday night I attended the Evensong at National Cathedral. Evensong is a uniquely Anglican worship service where the choir does the praying through music on behalf of the congregation. When done well (as it always is at the Cathedral) it is profoundly moving. Applause is never appropriate, as the choir is not performing for our benefit.
Bonus: no sermon at Evensong.
Totally agree. Except that I would have walked out the minute the sermon started. To be fair, I’d never been in an Episcopalian church to begin with… :) I don’t mean that to sound condescending; it’s tough to see your denomination deviate so far from scripture – I honestly don’t think I’d refer to the mainline Episcopalian as “Christian” anymore in its theology, which is really sad. But that same thing has me considering leaving my own church. The saddest part of that is that I don’t think the pastor (even though I’d consider us pretty decent friends) would encourage me to stay. In fact, when I first discussed theology with him, his immediate suggestion was that I might be happier elsewhere. I was really taken aback. The religion is liberalism, and everything else takes a back seat.
p.s. I’m sorry to see this post end up on the 2nd page! What a wonderful post, and I do love how you managed to sit through a secularist political sermon and come away thinking about music. It’s such a subtle point, but incredibly insightful.
Catholics are human, too. We all can drift away from the truth. But the Church has protected the Creed and the Eucharist for two thousand years. It’s “in the world but not of the world”, and I love that about her.
As a visceral experience, it’s more evident in some parishes than in others. But Catholics believe that, while priests are called to be shepherds and to teach, even a broken or misguided priest can perform his pivotal function (blessing the Eucharist, so that it becomes the literal body of Christ) by the grace of his being consecrated to the Lord.
I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Catholic TV network founded by a nun in Alabama — EWTN — but you might be interested in one of their regular shows. The Journey Home is an interview series in which individuals discuss their conversion experiences. Some used to be Protestants, some Jews, some atheists, and others lapsed Catholics. I’m certain that some of the stories would relate to your own searching experience.
Well, I grew up in the church (a few protestant denominations), and am pretty solid in my own theology (through reading… and, haha, 2 seminary-level classes). Meaning, I’m not sure that I’d classify myself as “searching,” but certainly frustrated at today’s tendency to put a decent theology second place to social trends. It is disturbing to say the least, and it is something that Chesterton noted when he pointed out that strength of the catholic church. Unfortunately, even the Catholic church is not immune (extremely liberal in many cases, your present pope maybe the best example).
Wait, so they meant “pride” as a positive thing? When did pride stop being one of the 7 Deadly Sins, and why didn’t I get the memo?
A few weeks ago I got to attend Evensong at Bath Abbey, and it was sublime.
I do have to quibble with “uniquely Anglican.” Evensong is the Anglican version of the ancient service of Vespers as practiced by the Catholic and Orthodox since the early centuries of Christianity. I believe the Lutherans have a Vespers service as well.
I commend the Anglicans for preserving this ancient practice and contributing some lovely music to it.
Pencilvania: I reflect now, how none in the choir needed to explain their personal behaviors to us; they didn’t preach of their individual struggles or sacrifices. Each has a lovely gift from God, and each practices it, hones it, guards it, and then offers it during the Mass, and we were the lucky bystanding beneficiaries of their art.
Given that “He who sings prays twice,” it would be unseemly to applaud a prayer.
In the Catholic mass, the homily is supposed to be a reflection on the readings. It’s supposed to give context to what the readings were, not on the preacher’s personal viewpoints on life.
The classic example is the when the gospel contains “it is harder for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle …” During the homily, the priest is supposed to give context to that, so many preachers pull out the old story that Jerusalem had a narrow gate called the eye of the needle, and that this is what the gospel refers to. However, a good preacher (I heard this from Fr. Robert Sirico) clarifies that this story isn’t really true … that Jerusalem gate wasn’t built until centuries after Christ, so that couldn’t be what Jesus was referring to. The gospel did indeed mean “something impossible.”
A good preacher who has enough study behind him can give the gift of history. He can take a reading and explain how Augustine used it in City of God, or how the Orthodox understood the passage differently than the Romans, etc.
The homily is not a sermon. It’s supposed to serve the Word.
<<<Joseph Stanko
<<<I do have to quibble with “uniquely Anglican.” Evensong is the Anglican version of the ancient service of Vespers as practiced by the Catholic and Orthodox since the early centuries of Christianity. I believe the Lutherans have a Vespers service as well.
I commend the Anglicans for preserving this ancient practice and contributing some lovely music to it.>>>
Quibblers are always welcome!
Evensong has its roots both in Compline and Vespers, and parts of it date back to the earliest Christian worship traditions. The Evensong service you attended was probably the form of worship dating from the (uniquely Anglican) English Prayer Book of 1549.
All too often I have found the music in the Catholic churches to be self-serving for the choir. We are professionals – do not try this in your pew.
On Pentecost my husband and I attended a local church which, to my mind, put on a Broadway production rather than enhanced the liturgy. The congregation was invited to sing the gathering song, but it was one that was unfamiliar and few people joined in. After that the choir took over – the Sequence was sung, and the congregation was told what number it was in the hymnal and that they would “have to turn the page.” The people in the pews are such idiots when it comes to music! The soloist then sang in what I would describe as an operatic voice, because I couldn’t distinguish a single word, and could not even follow along. After everyone was seated at the end of Communion, the choir really got going on their production piece, complete with brass and strings. Again, I could understand very little of what was actually being sung, so it was almost impossible to even silently join in the prayer.
– Continued –
I passed the National Cathedral twice a day all through high school. It is a splendid church, and no wonder. One of its principal architects was Philip Hubert Frohman, a Roman Catholic. Frohman is, by special dispensation, interred in the Cathedral. He told one of the Catholic bishops of Washington that he had ensured that the Cathedral meets all the Catholic Church’s liturgical requirements, “So don’t worry, your Excellency. It’ll be all ready when we take over!”
– Continued –
It was lovely to listen to, but did nothing to enhance the liturgy. When they were done singing, of course the congregation bursts out in applause, encouraged by the priest on the altar. My husband, who always stays until after the end of the recessional song, had had enough and we walked out. In this case the music did not promote my spirituality, it distracted it from what is important – worship of God.
This is just one instance, but we have been hard pressed to find a Catholic church where the music is not a show. At one church, which we no longer attend, there is always applause after Mass, whether there is a choir or not. A priest I used to work for said that in a parish where he would fill in, the choir was placed behind the altar (!) and wordlessly hummed and ‘moaned’ during the Consecration! He said it was extremely distracting for him, but that the choir directors and their choirs are the most difficult people to deal with in a church.
A last point – there should never be applause at a Mass – this is worship, not a show.
I grew up in a small Catholic church in E. Tennessee. (You haven’t seen small until you’ve seen an E. Tennessee Catholic church in the late 1950’s.) We hired an organist from the Methodist church nearby to play at Sunday Mass. We had no choir. We were done in time for him to play at his church.
The closing hymn was always “Holy God We Praise Thy Name.” I joked to my Mom that it was the “Catholic National Anthem” but we all went out of the church singing… because we knew the words.
My grandma, a Baptist at the time, played the organ for her church. The trouble was she was never even 5-feet tall. So a kid hid under the keyboard to push the pedals for her.
When I was a kid, my brothers and sisters and I would always sing, “Holy good God, we praise thy name,” which is slightly improper. We also snickered when we sang about the bed covering… “O Comforter, to thee we cry…” I never do that anymore, though…
There was applause at our Catholic church this weekend, after my son John Paul received his First Holy Communion on Corpus Christi. The applause came after the final blessing but before the final hymn (which just happened to be “Holy God We Praise They Name”!). The homily was holy and beautiful, and brought my friend, who is my god-daughter, a mom of 8 and a Catholic convert, to tears with its beautiful explication of the meaning of the Eucharist.
The applause seemed appropriate that day.