Across the Alley from the Alamo

The day after Thanksgiving I drove down to San Antone with my gonzo compadre Gilberto from a wonderful Thanksgiving in Arlington with my brother et al. We got a room at the historic Crockett Hotel across the alley from the Alamo and after a heavenly barbecue sandwich at the County Line on the Riverwalk, I sat down beside the Alamo and thought about that great battle which ended on March 6, 1836, the day the Alamo fell. No matter how many times I've been there, it always feels like sacred ground. The spirits of those brave men still reside there I believe. Some have speculated that surely there must have been buried treasure there for men like Crockett, Bowie and Travis to have defended it to the death as they did. But the treasure they were guarding was likely just a love of that place that was so strong that any notion of giving it up refused to be entertained.

March 6 is also my birthday so I have always felt a strong connection with the Alamo, having been born in San Antonio and lived there until I was 7. It always feels like home when I go back, even though I don't even know anyone there to call up anymore. But the past always seems to be present in San Antonio, not just at the Alamo, and over the years I haven't seen it change all that much. Sure there are more people here now, but the old neighborhood looks pretty much the same as it did 50 years ago. Casbeer's, "the Joint" as we called it, is now a hot little country/western dance club and restaurant. Good local and imported talent and they make wonderful enchiladas there, just like Mother used to make. I was glad to see they have a big star with Doug Sahm's name on it in the sidewalk in front of the door. He of Sir Douglas Quintet and Texas Tornados fame was also a native San Antonian and he and my brother took guitar lessons from my uncle Lloyd Hazelbaker, who played with Bob Wills for awhile. Alas Sir Doug passed away all too soon a few years ago.

The next day we made it to Joe's Hamburgers in time for Phyllis to make us a good ol' Texas burger with her secret sauce. Joe's has been there since about 1940 and Phyllis has been cooking burgers there since sometime in the 50's. They don't serve fries or anything else except burgers, and the only things she puts on it are her secret sauce and chopped onions. But the taste is like nothing I've ever had anywhere else. It's just a little shack on Blanco Road near Hildebrand but at least as long as Phyllis lives, it is truly the High Church of Hamburger!

Christ The King

Today we celebrated the feast of Christ the King in grand High Church style with Solemn Mass followed by procession of the Blessed Sacrament and Benediction. It went pretty well considering we had no rehearsal and several of the altar party had never done procession and Benediction before and another couple were holding their breath that one of the canopy poles wouldn't fall apart. Yesterday as we were assembling the canopy one of the poles fell and the cross on top of it broke off. A quick soldering job seemed to repair it but one never can be too sure about these things. We made it through without it falling off, praise to God, and I'm sure it helped that the procession was only halfway around the church, the scaffolding still being up. The only ragged part was Benediction where we had a very asymmetrical line of torches and candles and an odd newbie torch that squatted down behind the rest despite my best efforts as torchmeister to direct her. Once they're down it's best to leave them where they land, but there was a lot of smoke so I hope that detail was blurred to most people's vision. All in all a meaningful worship experience I would say.

I'm off to the Lone Star State for Thanksgiving, so I ask your prayers for a safe journey and wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving and a Happy New Church Year!

Sturm und Drang at Bach Vespers

Last night, Sunday Nov. 13, I went with my friend Bob to Holy Trinity Lutheran for their Bach Vespers service. Somehow I had never been inside this church and was delighted to find such a lovely old pile with a high church evensong that was almost Anglican but also rather Roman in style.

The aisle candlesticks were lit before the service, which opened with a lovely motet by Hartmann. The Presiding Minister in a rather dingy white cope and an acolyte in cassock and cotta processed in, the acolyte carrying a two foot pillar candle that resembled a paschal candle without the decoration. After versicles and responses in procession also reminiscent of the Easter Vigil, invoking Christ as the Light of the world, we sang O Christ, You Are the Light and Day, a good sturdy Lutheran hymn. The minister was at the altar looking like he was preparing for communion, but then we saw smoke rising and realized he had been putting on incense in a large bowl. I believe it was Gloria.

Then we had psalms, prayers and lessons followed by an excellent homily by Pastor Robert Rimbo, sometime bishop of Michigan. Since our cantata for the 25th Sunday after Trinity was to be No. 90 (Es reisset euch ein schrecklich Ende), he spoke of the current popular obsession with End Times prophecies and books like the Left Behind series. He assured us this is nothing new. Back in the late first century people were sure the end was very near and the cantata we then heard was evidently inspired by another such era.

The author of the text of Cantata 90 is unknown, but the opening tenor aria says it all: You shall be carried off to a horrible end, you sinful scourners. The mass of sin is at full measure, yet your utterly stubborn mind has completely forgotten its judge.

The service continued with the Magnificat, harmonized by Martin Luther, during which more incense was put on. A little too sweet for my taste but not unpleasant. Then prayers and another good old hymn for the recessional, The Day is Surely Drawing Near. Let's hope not too near. I still have work to do!

Why a Catafalque

On All Souls Day this year our magnificent choir sang the Durufle Requiem and it was truly transcendent. I had hoped to enjoy the service from my favorite pew, which was the Zabriskie pew back in their day. I did have a few moments of mystic sweet communion with those saintly souls before I was summoned to fill in as acolyte for SrT who had to work late, but the acolyte chair nearest the credence is my second favorite spot in the church, so I could hardly complain.

This year we restored the practice of saying the Prayers of Preparation at the altar during the introit and the sacred ministers also wore birettas. We have a stunning set of black vestments which made their first appearance at All Souls in 1920. The frontal had to be taped up a bit, but it looked pretty good for 85 years of service. And of course we changed all the candles to unbleached beeswax and put up our so-called catafalque.

The Absolution at the Catafalque is a rather curious coda to the All Souls Requiem, which one former rector referred to as the "so-called Absolution at the Catafalque". He evidently had some issues with absolving all souls of their sins in this way. One could also say the "so-called catafalque" since ours is just a coffin shaped wooden top resting on chairs, covered with a pall. But nonetheless it serves to focus our prayers for the departed and even give a sense of closure to those deaths which have occurred most recently.

After the choir had sung the Libera me and the catafalque had been aspersed and censed, the Celebrant intoned: Absolve, O Lord we pray thee, the souls of thy servants and handmaidens from every bond of sin, that though they be dead unto the world, yet they may live unto thee: and that whatsoever sins they may have committed through the frailty of the flesh in their earthly life may be done away by the pardon of thy most merciful loving-kindness; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Then the heavenly In Paradisum ended the service and the tower bell tolled 33 times for all the faithful departed.

Rest eternal grant unto them, O Lord: and let light perpetual shine upon them.

For all the Saints

Yesterday we celebrated the Solemnity of All Saints in grand High Church fashion. We had uncovered all our household saints on All Souls day after a few weeks enshrouded in plastic during the restoration, so it was great to see them all again. One of the sacristy rats was heard to wonder, somewhat shockingly, why on earth anyone would pray to or for a dead person. If they are with God, how could any of our prayers possibly matter to them, and if they're not with God, how could our prayers possibly save them, he asked. And furthermore, here he began quoting from one of the 39 Articles and I realized it was time to light the office lights, so I said it was a good question, but I'd have to get back to him.

We had a Sung Mass on All Saints Day proper (last Tuesday) but had a very sparse crowd, since we did the Solemnity on Sunday and most of our parish is loath to come to church three times in a week. I had my favorite job as thurifer and it felt like all the saints were there with us anyway. I especially felt the presence of our second rector, Fr. Arthur Ritchie, to whom St. Ignatius is dedicated for his work in having the present church built. He and the Zabriskies were all there. (What did I put in that incense?)

Yesterday I was subdeacon at the Solemn Mass. I was scheduled to be a torch but the subdeacon overslept so I had to fill in for him. The Rev. Park Bodie was the celebrant and the rector was deacon. We only processed halfway around the church since the scaffolding is still up, and we had the station at the Rood Beam. Sr. T wanted to start the procession after we came in the door, instead of going to the altar first, but we managed to flag her down by the time she had gotten to the St. Ignatius shrine. Having a verger for such a small procession is rather silly anyway and her verger robe just clashes with that veil, even worse than the cotta. But let me stop.

After that it was calmer sailing. We had the des Prez Missa Gaudeamus done marvelously by our choir. And I forgot to mention we are now using birettas on the high feasts. This was only the second time I'd ever worn one and I kept having trouble getting it on correctly with the blades at the right angle. But I must say I can understand why they stopped using them. It's like a comedy routine, taking them off, putting them on, doffing them here, passing them to the MC there. I almost started giggling.

We are now also using a patena during communions, so I had to hold that under everybody's chin, trying to avoid slicing their throat in the process and trying to hold back the chasuble at the same time. I tell you, this High Church stuff is alot of work! Of course I also wore the humeral veil (we call these high feasts HVBP masses for short: humeral veil, biretta, patena). I'm glad we don't do it every week though, even if it would be less confusing for MCs and subdeacons.

We sang my favorite hymn,
St. Catherine's Court, at the ablutions and I hope my friend understood what it is saying, better than I could express it:
In our day of thanksgiving one psalm let us offer, for the saints who before us have found their reward; when the shadow of death fell upon them we sorrowed, but now we rejoice that they rest in the Lord.

Strangers and Pilgrims

Remembering today all those who have gone before us across that great divide.

From that wonderful hymn, St. Catherine's Court :

These stones that have echoed their praises are holy,
and dear is the ground where their feet have once trod;
yet here they confessed they were strangers and pilgrims,
and still they were seeking the city of God.

Sing praise, then, for all who here sought and here found him,
whose journey is ended, whose perils are past:
they believed in the Light; and its glory is round them,
where the clouds of earth's sorrow are lifted at last.