Lent, 2024
In the middle of last year, I introduced the Communion propers at the church where I serve as Director of Music. And I can now confidently say that the Communion proper should be widely sung at services of Holy Communion in the Episcopal Church.
What is a proper, you might ask? Propers are distinct from the ordinary of the Mass (Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus, Agnus Dei). Propers include the Introit, Gradual, Alleluia, Offertory, and Communion. It is something more specific to the particular service being offered.
In the practice of many Episcopal churches, there is no need to sing the Introit, Gradual, or Alleluia, as these moments in the liturgy are ably serviced by the singing of the hymn and a lectionary-prescribed Psalm. The Offertory proper has also widely been supplanted by a choral anthem (and possibly a "Presentation" hymn). The Communion proper, however, could still have a place in most parishes today, regardless of churchmanship.
If one of the propers is sung in a church, it is likely the Introit: a piece of music is sung just prior to or simultaneously with the entrance of the ministers who will lead the service.
The traditional form of the Introit is an Antiphon followed by a psalm verse (or more than one verse, as circumstances require). The Antiphon is then repeated. This past Sunday, the Fourth Sunday in Lent, the words were directly related to the idea of entrance: "I was glad when they said unto me: Let us go to the house of the Lord." (In other places, a relatively short piece of choral music may be chosen by the director and called an "Introit".)
The Communion proper takes this same form: an Antiphon followed by a psalm verse. Over time, the psalm verse was dropped.
But as an historic part of the Western Church's liturgy, these antiphons (and psalm verses) deserve our consideration, possibly over and above the creative whims of the director of music.
Furthermore, an important moment in the liturgy is often left unaccompanied by choral singing, which is a break from the tradition of the Western Church: the Communion of the Celebrant.
In the regular order of operations, the Canon of the Mass ends with the Lord's Prayer and is followed by the Fraction. In many Episcopal Churches a Fraction Anthem is then sung or said (perhaps the Agnus Dei, or another text). After this, the rubrics of the Episcopal Church's 2016* Book of Common Prayer require two things of the Celebrant: 1) the spoken Invitation to Communion and 2) the Communion of the Celebrant.
The rubric reads, "The ministers receive the Sacrament in both kinds, and then immediately deliver it to the people." While the rubric is a bit murky about who goes first, the Church's tradition is that the Celebrant receives first. And it is this moment at which Communion proper begins.
What happens in most churches? There is likely either organ improvisation or silence during this reception, as well as the movement of the choir, who usually arrive (a bit too early) at the place where they will receive Communion.
Using the Communion proper has led me to believe both practices are undesirable. The beginning of what the prayer book calls "the ministration of Communion" is a fitting time for music, especially so given that we have received from the tradition of the Church the perfect piece of music for this moment. Historically, the time at which the Communion proper should begin is the Communion of the Celebrant.
How, then, can the Communion proper be sung?
The words of the proper may be sung quite simply, or they could be sung in Latin in a traditional musical form that has been passed down through the centuries. Thanks to the work of Bruce Ford, they can also be sung in a kind of "Anglican compromise": to the traditional plainsong melodies adapted to English words. Some freely available resources for all three approaches are:
Whether sung by a cantor, a portion of the choir, or the choir as a whole, I contend that the Communion proper should be employed in Episcopal churches today.
A rubric about music at Communion specifies: "During the ministration of Communion, hymns, psalms, or anthems may be sung." While it does not forbid organ improvisation, the prevailing practice in the Episcopal Church seems to use improvisation as a default during the ministers' reception of Communion. Organ improvisation can easily be delayed until a moment when it is more fitting: when the choir itself receives. It is easy to infer from the Prayer Book a preference for sung music over the strictly instrumental variety.
I have become increasingly fascinated by traditional plainchant, or what is often called Gregorian chant. Within the liturgical year, each Sunday has an associated set of melodies for each of the propers, including the Communion proper. I wondered what it would be like to engage with these traditional materials over several years.
Bruce Ford's American Gradual 2020 is a new edition of the work he began in his American Gradual (both freely available resources).
The musical experience has been a challenge. We have taught ourselves to read traditional neumes in four-line notation. We have familiarized ourselves with Ford's approach to the quilisma as outlined in his preface (the reverse of the prevailing practice). The musical demands of each Sunday's Communion Antiphon vary widely, ranging from the simple and direct to the florid and complex. The results have been hard-fought and, if we assess things honestly, a little rough around the edges in the liturgy on occasion.
But even six months into this project, I can report that the benefits of engaging with this historic repertory far outweigh the costs. The words are those of scripture, and they often hold great significance at the moment of Communion. The melodies are those of the ancient church, removing us from the fallacies of preference and desire. The synthesis of the scripture and the music is often so great as to be undeniable. Even in its adapted form, these chants are remarkable aids in contemplating the Divine Mysteries.
In our present situation (and I suspect this would be true for the vast majority of places), the Antiphon alone is sufficient for the ministers to receive. After singing the Antiphon, the choir themselves then come forward to receive Communion. The Communion Antiphons vary in length; in some weeks, even the Antiphon alone is slightly longer than required. I do not believe that the clergy or musicians in the parish have lost any sleep over an extra 15 seconds at Communion every now and then.
We have yet to learn the Communion propers for this Easter season, which are, of course, replete with Alleluias! Many of the Communion propers we have learned lodge themselves quite compellingly in the mind, and I look forward to singing them again in future years.
While I am personally drawn to the historic plainchant of the propers, I know that their performance will not be possible or desirable in every situation. A simpler version of these propers could be used, say The Anglican Use Gradual by David Burt. The chant tone is easily learned and repeated from week to week. Specifically in these shorter versions, a psalm verse or two could then be added without fear of making the proper unduly long—and, indeed, the length of the form would be highly predictable from week to week.
My hope for the Episcopal Church at large is that church musicians will rediscover the Communion propers, notice how tailor-made our liturgy is for their insertion, and then create new musical forms so that a rich variety of material is available for use.
* yes, the Prayer Book was revised in 2016, and referring to it as the 1979 just causes confusion. Make sure you get your lectionary right, especially in Holy Week!
Labels: Bruce Ford, church music, Gregorian chant, liturgy
So the work as we now have it and as it is now known and loved around the world is far from being the Miserere that Allegri would have recognised. The tragedy is not only is Allegri's original version long lost, but the manner of ornamented and embellished performance is also long lost.—Graham Abbott, https://www.grahamsmusic.net/post/miserere
[…] the medieval craftsman, who takes enormous pains to fashion in stone some angel right up in the triforium of a cathedral — where it will never be seen, but he did it just for the love of it. Sometimes I feel that Herbert Howells lavishes his love in his music by having some felicitous little counterpoint in some inner part which may never be heard — but he knows it’s there.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbXUz8FREas&t=1854s, h/t Some Definite Service: The Unbelief, yet Half-Religion, of Herbert Howells (I)
It is, all of it, food for thought. So much sacred music is profoundly "structural." In a divine creative sense, God's blessing bestows order (conversely, cursing bestows disorder), so the very forms of music can convey God's blessing to us. The various spaces in which we worship convey their own sense of God's grace and presence.
And in all of it, there is joy in the detail. One of my favorite features of Christ Church Cathedral, Indianapolis, are two tiny bronze frogs near the baptismal font–creatures so small that it would be possible not to notice them even if you attended the cathedral your whole life. Like Howells's own tiny joyous details, there is, amidst the waters of Baptism–the waters of chaos and then creation–a divine herpetological rejoicing included in the architecture just for the love of it.
Labels: Allegri, architecture, Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), Howells, Tenebrae (Choir)
I am beginning to hear the O Antiphons differently this year.
We can, of course, go into their meaning, their scriptural references, the associations with specific dates, the monastic tradition of who they were sung by, and that nifty reverse acrostic. That's usually where my mind goes! But this year I'm just hearing the music.
The O Antiphons are all sung to a relatively simple chant that easily adapts to each. Hearing this same chant scattered throughout a carol service has a unifying effect.
St. John's, Cambridge, whose famous Advent service is in four sections, groups the antiphons into pairs of two. Other services distribute them evenly throughout the service. St. Mark's, Seattle, uses them as the basis for the form of the service itself. However they are used, many Advent Carol Services tend to incorporate the O Antiphons.
I used to think their use at St. John's Advent service was simply too much. The service has so much rich choral music that I found it difficult to also take in the simplicity of the O Antiphons.
But perhaps that's not the point. Iin listening to many Advent Carol Services this year, where they are so often included, it seems to me that they are serving a different function.
Ironically, musicians often get so obsessed with specific textual content and meaning, sometimes at the expense of the music itself. I'm grateful for conversations with clergy where so often I think we are able to reinforce each other's ministries from both sides of the table: a musician's perspective on the rhetoric of preaching and the drama of liturgy; a clergyperson's perspective on sound itself.
And with these antiphons, especially in a large resonant space, perhaps its the sound itself that matters more. The simplicity of the unadorned chant being sung out at regular intervals punctuates the liturgy with its unmistakable aroma of Advent longing. The gentle rise in the chant mirrors the incense of our prayer.
Maybe this year, I've finally heard them enough that I no longer need to attend to every word, every image. Don't get me wrong; I still appreciate those gifts of the tradition. But now I can hear the O Antiphons in a more relaxed way and let them do their potent work.
As Marva Dawn so aptly said about liturgy, it's a case of "when you know the steps you can dance."
This is the great gift of a repeated tradition like this. It has taken me many years, but I feel now as if I am greeting these antiphons as an old friend. And, quite frankly, I'm a bit concerned by their absence from the service I lead annually.
I'm not making any last-minute changes this year, but I will be pondering this with an ear to Advent 2023. In a desire to make the service less cluttered, perhaps I've taken away some of what can anchor a community to the Advent service.
Like the familiar wreath that appears on Advent Sunday, these O Antiphons, heard again and again throughout a service, again and again from year to year, again and again throughout a lifetime—this too can signal Advent.
Labels: Advent, O Antiphons
For better or worse, one of the changes brought about by the pandemic is the increased prevalance of video webcasting of liturgical services.
This week, in the wake of Advent Sunday, this change is decidedly for the better for those who, like myself, enjoy dropping in on Advent Carol Services around the world.
For instance, St. Thomas Church in New York is one that I have listened to for many years, since the early days of audio webcasting. Their move to video webcasting during the pandemic has been very informative. Last year, for instance, who could know just by listening the cumulateive affect that Leo Nestor's haunting and liquid Advent Prose would have when accompanied by the lighting of the cognregation's candles? See here: "Hark! A Thrilling Voice is Sounding" A Service for Advent (Nov. 28, 2021)
Even though St. Thomas has re-ordered their liturgy this year, the service still speaks of Advent in the same way. In fact, amidst all the variety of approaches among the services here, the common themes of Advent still ring out loud and clear.
Here are some of the other services you might want to view in these early days of the Advent season:
Then of course, is the service that would be fun to view, but is still a real joy to listen to: A Service for Advent with Carols from St. John's College, Cambridge.
Finally, an honorable mention to the Choir of Gonville and Caius for their Advent Carol Service. I was able to catch part of it live which is the only way to view their services. After the service, they disappear from YouTube and are not available for viewing later. A notable, and worthy approach, I think.
But I would be remiss if I did not end by saying that Advent Sunday (yes, this term is in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer!) is widely observed with Carol Services in the UK more than in the US. Since it so often falls on the same weekend as the Thanksgiving Holiday, we have more stateside Carol services to look forward to in the weeks to come!
Labels: Advent, Jeremy Filsell, O Antiphons, St Mark's Cathedral (Seattle), St Thomas (New York)
A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols has been held annually at King’s since 1918.
The audio-only broadcast has become a tradition in its own right. The first Festival from King’s was broadcast in 1928. And the tradition of broadcast has continued every year since, even, famously, “during the Second World War, when the ancient glass (and also all heat) had been removed from the Chapel and the name of King’s could not be broadcast for security reasons.”
With the increasing prevalence of videos of the King’s College Choir singing carols, it’s worth mentioning that there’s no way to watch the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols. This famous Christmas Eve service remains an audio-only affair.
Most video clips that turn up are excerpted from a separate televised service called “Carols from King’s.” This made-for-TV service is pre-recorded and broadcast on BBC television. For non-BBC audiences, it is available as a digital download directly from King’s.
2018 marked the 100th anniversary of the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols, and it was the final Festival under the direction of Stephen Cleobury. He had held the post of director of music since 1982. His successor, Daniel Hyde, directed his first service in 2019. The service was held, though without a congregation, in 2020. This year is the second time the service will be sung during the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic, and there are plans to admit a congregation.
The service remains deeply loved by many, myself included. And in doing some reflecting on why it is that so many want to return to this service year after year, I encountered this wonderful passage at the end of the first story in A. A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh (1926):
“I do remember,” [Christopher Robin] said, “only Pooh doesn’t very well, so that’s why he likes having it told to him again. Because then it’s a real story and not just a remembering.”
The service begins, as always, with the hymn “Once in royal David’s city.” The descant is by David Willcocks, a former director of music at King’s
After the Bidding Prayer, we hear a carol arrangement that debuted last year: “In dulci jubilo,” arranged by Pearsall, and the director of music Daniel Hyde. This carol tune is heard every year because it is the first Organ Voluntary played at the conclusion of the service. When sung by the Choir, it is most often sung after the Second Lesson. It was last sung after the Bidding Prayer in 2001.
After the First Lesson, we hear a single carol: “The truth from above” by Ralph Vaughan Williams, arranged by Christopher Robinson.
After the Second Lesson, we hear another single carol: “The Holly and the Ivy” arranged by June Nixon. This arrangement was last sung at the service in 2010
It is interesting that Hyde’s pattern of music at the beginning of the service continues to evolve. In what is perhaps an effort to get the service off the ground, the long-standing custom of having two pieces of music after every lesson has been altered after the first two lessons. As a result, in other years where we might have heard four pieces of music after these first two lessons, we hear only two this year.
After the Third Lesson we hear the Sussex Carol in a very familiar arrangement by Willcocks. This Willcocks carol has been sung many times at this service, most recently in 2015. In Daniel Hyde’s first two services as director of music, he has chosen the Vaughan Williams arrangement.
Then follows the hymn “O Little town of Bethlehem.” As always, this hymn is sung to the English tune Forest Green. It was last sung at the 2017 Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols
Following the Fourth Lesson, we hear “In the stillness” by Sally Beamish. Beamish links to a recording of “In the stillness” by the St. Peter’s Singers of Leeds on her website.
UPDATE: King’s has just shared a video of them singing this carol
Though this will be Sally Beamish’s first appearance at the Christmas Eve service, her music is no stranger to King’s College. Her setting of Psalm 46 “Be Still” was commissioned by Stephen Cleobury, and sung at King’s in 2015.
Beamish’s carol is followed by “Gabriel’s Message,” arranged by Willcocks. This arrangement was last sung in 2015.
Following the Fifth Lesson the Choir sings “Make ye merry for him that is come” by Imogen Holst, a carol for SSATB choir published in the 1965 collection Carols for Today from Oxford University Press.
Afterward, the Choir sings Cecilia McDowall’s “There is no rose.” Since 1983, King’s College has commissioned a new carol for the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols, though no new commission was sung in 2020. McDowall’s “There is no rose” is the commissioned carol this year, and it receives its first performance at this service.
Oxford University Press has summarized the piece this way:
Employing the richness of her distinctive harmonic palette, McDowall pairs upper and lower voices to great effect throughout, contrasting polyphonic writing with moments of rhythmic unison. The carol abounds in rise and fall of both melody and dynamic, before drawing to a hushed, atmospheric close.
After the Sixth Lesson, we hear “Angels from the realms of glory,” arranged by Reginald Jacques, a familiar carol that was last sung two years ago, in 2019.
This is followed by the Wexford Carol, arranged by John Rutter. If, like me, you need the first line of the carol to remember how it goes, the Wexford Carol is the one that begins “Good people all this Christmastide.” It’s an enduring Irish carol, but it has never been sung at this service to the best of my knowledge.
Another Rutter arrangement is heard after the Seventh Lesson: it’s his take on “Silent night.” Rutter has become somewhat synonymous with the Christmas season; he is a prolific writer of original carols and carol arrangements, and his work is prevalent across choirs of all types. Since 2005, a carol by Rutter has been sung at the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols more or less every other year. 2015 was the last time two Rutter carols were sung within the same service.
Rutter’s “Silent night” is followed by the hymn “While shepherds watched their flocks by night,” arranged, as it was in last year’s service, by Nicholas Marston.
The ordering of the pieces after the Seventh Lesson is another place where we can see a new director of music at work. After switching the order of these two pieces in his first two years as director of music, Daniel Hyde has swapped the order once again. He has restored the pattern that Philip Ledger settled on during his tenure as director of music, and this pattern has been followed in most services ever since. In most years the carol has come first, and then the hymn.
After the Eighth Lesson, the Choir sings “Thou who wast rich.” This is another existing carol arrangement—this time by Charles Herbert Kitson—that has received some further arranging by Daniel Hyde.
After this, the Choir sings Simon Preston’s arrangement of “I saw three ships,” last sung in 2018.
And so we arrive at that climactic Ninth Lesson with its spine-tingling introduction: “St. John unfolds the great mystery of the incarnation.”
It is followed by the requisite hymn, “O come, all ye faithful.” Daniel Hyde’s custom has been to sing all the verses, and he presents a smorgasbord of spectacular arrangements for the final stanzas (Willcocks, Christopher Robinson, and David Hill).
After the Collect and Blessing, all present sing the final hymn: “Hark! the herald angels sing,” with the Willcocks descant.
Of the two Organ voluntaries following the service, the first is always In dulci jubilo, by J. S. Bach, BWV 729. Over the years, the second voluntary presents organists like myself a list of big, festive pieces that have enough “Christmas spirit” to be played at a service like this. This year, we revisit a work last played twenty years ago, the Carillon-Sortie by Henri Mulet
The service, which is broadcast live from England at 3:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve, may be heard on many public radio stations in the United States and is available to stream live on the BBC website at 10:00 a.m. Eastern. As for myself, I’ll be listening at 9:00 a.m. Central. You can also stream the service on demand from the BBC for a month following Christmas Eve.
Oh, and of course, the spreadsheet has been updated: King’s College Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols(1997–2021)
Labels: Christmas, King's College (Cambridge), Lessons and Carols
Many Episcopal organists, myself included, cannot resist a nod or two toward “Reformation Day” when Sunday falls on October 31. Lutherans celebrate this day when, in 1517, Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the church door at Wittenberg.
Did you know? Not many people are familiar with all 95 Theses. For instance, did you know that Thesis 47 is actually about the superiority of mechanical-action organs? Luther preferred them to electric-action.
Maybe I’m more inclined than some to do this; I served as organist for a Lutheran congregation for two years in graduate school.
But truth is there’s never a bad time for Episcopalians all to express some appreciation to Luther and the hymn tradition that sprung up with the Reformation. Our Hymnal 1982 is indded indebted to this hymn tradition.
Hymn 688: “A mighty fortress is our God” is sometimes dubbed “The Battle Hymn of the Reformation,” but it turns out that’s not really how Luther thought of it at all.
Read: Hymn of the Week: October 31 - Hymn 687/688: “A mighty fortress is our God” on the Diocese of Missouri website.
Labels: Hymn 687/8, Hymnal 1982, Martin Luther
Twenty years ago, right at the very same time that the St. Peter’s organ was being installed, I was fortunate to go on a tour of Germany with the Houston Bach Choir and see many historic organs in that country. It was my first trip to Germany, and the church architecture and the sounds of the instruments I heard and played there were astonishing. But recently, I’ve been reflecting on one detail of that trip in particular: seeing the mouths of organ pipes.The mouth of the organ pipe is the visible gap in the front of the pipe. This is where the column of air is set into motion; it’s where the “whistle” happens in the pipe if you like. On at least one of these historic organs, the area surrounding the mouths had been decorated to become a human face: there were eyes, a nose, some hair, and it made the mouth look like, well, a mouth! It said something about how Germans (including J. S. Bach) thought about their organs some 500 years ago: organs themselves have a voice and are meant to sing just as much as people are.
Read the rest on St. Peter's, St. Louis's Keys to the Kingdom music blog. The parish is celebrating the Mander organ's 20th anniversary.
Quickly becoming the most sought after composer on the West coast of the United States, Jessica French has written this splendid setting of Christina Rosetti's "Love came down at Christmas".
Labels: 12 Carols for Christmas, Christmas, Jessica French
This is, as everyone knows, a serious church music blog, but we also enjoy Star Wars, so...
Christmas in the StarsCheck out the first track, and then just keep going because it's glorious
And quite frankly, I'm somewhat miffed that no one told me about this!!
Wikipedia: Christmas in the Stars
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