Death by High Church

Death by High Church, that's what we were singing as we processed in from the Vigil and First Mass at around 1:20 am Sunday morning, to the tune of Doug's postlude, a rather gothic setting of The Light of Christ. Most of us were on the verge of collapse after a wonderful but exhausting three days that began Maundy Thursday morning for me, with a 5-hour setup of all the tat required for that production. Then the service itself, I think my favorite of the year, was over 2 hours with the procession to the Altar of Repose and stripping of the Altar. After being MC for this service the past several years I have finally gotten all the details down (almost).

We sometimes also have the crucifer wear a tunicle in processions of the sacrament, so we decided to do that, having the crucifer wear the tunicle that Michael Haworth made for his swan song, singing the Exsultet at the Vigil in 1988 I believe. A few of us sometimes joke when things are missing, that Michael, who died in May 1988, is playing tricks on us. Perhaps he was bummed that we didn't use the frontal he made for the Altar of Repose this year since it had gotten damaged in last year's excavations. I found four exquisite lace superfrontals for the chantry altar which had gotten a 20-year rest since we have been using Michael's frontal. So I picked the most Passiontide one and only had a minor grumbling from Craig. But now Michael's tunicle is missing from its drawer and the crucifer swears he put it back there after the service. We searched everywhere but it is gone. Another St. Ignatius mystery.

Good Friday I got to sit in the congo, blessedly, after keeping watch an hour beforehand at the Altar of Repose. I had to move from my quiet place in the Zabriskie pew about halfway through the Passion (after praying for the repose of Charles Frederic's soul, whose 92nd anniversary of death it also was), when Rosemary and her two brats made their noisy entrance and planted themselves right across the aisle from me. I made what I hope was a subtle escape before the sermon, to my second point of refuge by the south wall at the back for the duration. Rosemary only shows up from Tenafly on Good Friday and has been dragging her young twins the past several years so they can get a little religion, I guess, although for a 6-year-old our Good Friday service has got to be the most boring thing imaginable. They chattered, yawned and kicked their way through this one, although from my seat at the back it was mercifully just a dull roar. VK was there and let down her hair for veneration, a sight we hadn't seen for a few years. We had a good crowd on a suitably dark and rainy day. Afterward we had the obligatory Hot Cross Bun and talked to those we only see on Good Friday, before departing in peace.

Afterward I had fish and chips and sympathy with Deacon Anne before heading down to St. Luke's for Tenebrae, to see our restored hearse in action. We used to do Tenebrae 3 times in Holy Week but the practice was discontinued about 30 years ago or more. The hearse had been sitting in the acolyte's closet and recently the dungeon for all that time so it needed 4 new braces and some nailing and gluing to get it back in usable shape. The feet are still a little uneven, but I thought they would notice and put something under to steady it. Apparently not since it was teetering for the last bit where the last candle gets put back on. Otherwise not a bad rendition, although I was puzzled that we just said the last Lamentation. I missed that ethereal falsetto of the Misereri and their big bang sounded more like a big drum. Nice effort though. They are now having their own hearse made on a model after ours.

Saturday we spent most of the day rehearsing and setting up for the Vigil, which began at 10:30 pm. I was subdeacon and got to wear the folded purple chasuble, my favorite. The deacon was to have worn the missing tunicle for the Exsultet, but she wore the solemn white dalmatic instead, more correct if nothing else. I was so tired after carrying the cross for the first part that I sat down in the first available seat, which was actually the deacon's seat at the sedelia. She had gone in to change into the purple folded chazzie, so I was blissfully unaware until we got up to sing the Solemn Prayers. We switched after the first set. Good crowd for this also, and saw some people we only see on this night. Nice champagne punch reception afterward with lots of good food and fellowship. I got home about 3:10am and got a few hours sleep before getting up for Solemn Mass at 11:00 to serve as acolyte. I was tired and cranky but it was nonetheless a glorious procession and mass with humeral veil, patena and birettas. By the time we got through cleaning up all that, all the champagne punch was gone. Luckily I was on my way over to Forest Hills for a festive champagne brunch and an afternoon of good old fashioned family fun.

The powers of death have done their worst, But Christ their legions hath dispersed; Let shout of Holy joy outburst. Alleluia!

Palm Sunday

It was a sunny but brisk Palm Sunday as we set out for the Soldiers and Sailors Monument in the usual last minute chaos. The Methodists, with whom we share this once a year ecumenical effort, had hoped to bring along a donkey, but the donkey had other plans and refused to budge from its place in front of the church, so they had to leave him behind. Once we all gathered at the Monument and the blessing of the palms began, it all seemed worth the effort and we processed cheerfully back to our churches singing the old standards and stopping traffic on West End Avenue. Then it was two hours of passion liturgy and another hour afterward rehearsing for Maundy Thursday, for which I'm MC, as usual. Thankfully we had a very hearty coffee hour with Thelma's homemade quiches among other goodies in between.

Then after an afternoon at the cinema (Ice Age 2) we returned for an evening of Bach's Markus-Passion, performed by our choir plus some guest soloists and a string quartet. It was a rare performance of this work with selected recitatives by Keiser to round it out and Doug and the choir and soloists did a splendid rendition. I sat in my second favorite spot, back by the newly cleaned south wall with a view up the aisle of the choir and excellent sound as well as peace and quiet. We had a great crowd for this initial fundraising effort and it was just a transcendent evening until I found out afterward that our resident mental case had had a meltdown by the West End door on our new rug. The poor rector had to clean it up and missed half the concert. It was a sad ending to an otherwise glorious Palm Sunday and seemed to bear out the rector's sermon that morning about Simon of Cyrene and the unforeseen cross one is sometimes forced to bear.