blog.sinden.org

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've about had it about up to here with all the anti-wealth rhetoric leading up to the annual conference of the Consortium of Endowed Episcopal Parishes (CEEP) meeting in Boston this week. I am not attending this year, but I have attended a conference in the past, and I've worked for three endowed parishes in the Episcopal Church in the past twelve years.

I'm not sure what it is exactly that people assume happens at these CEEP conferences, but from some of the discussion on social media, you might assume that attendees sit around wearing cassocks and smoke cigars lit from flaming dollar bills.

Spoiler alert: this is not what goes on.

The list of CEEP member parishes (which is public) includes nineteen Episcopal cathedrals, and churches from every state except Alabama, Hawaii, Idaho, Iowa, Maine, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Mexico, North Dakota, South Dakota, Utah, and Vermont.

Some of what I read online is anti-endowment. This just doesn't make any sense. Every parish asks members to give. Why is it so problematic if members give a lot? What if the church, from a gift, or a series of large gifts, is able to begin an endowment? Do we really not want financial security for our churches?

Parishioners give large gifts to their parishes because they love God, and they love the places in which they have worshipped God. Eli Lilly famously endowed three churches in Indianapolis, Indiana along Meridian Street, the street that bisects not only the city but lies at the north-south axis of the whole state: Christ Church (now a cathedral), Trinity, and St. Paul's; together, they are the "Meridian Street Parishes".

My first full-time job was as the Assistant Organist and Choirmaster of Christ Church Cathedral, Indianapolis. I was elated. I had "made it" as a professional church musician, which was my goal from about age 12.

At the same time, I also realized that my thirteen-year-old Ford Crown Victoria wasn't the best choice of car for the extreme commute that I faced from Bloomington, Indiana for the foreseeable future (especially in the winter months). So, I decided it was finally time to buy a new car, and I bought a gray Honda Civic (not a Lexus, mind you). I still drive it. It turned 180,000 miles this weekend.

Given that a full-time assistant organist position was a rarity in the church (and still is) I think it's safe to say that one of the reasons the position existed was because of Christ Church's endowment. Since this endowment was begun by the pharmaceutical industrialist Eli Lilly, I enjoyed telling people that I had bought my new car with "drug money."

That's not all. I also played an organ that was purchased with "drug money." Ruth Lilly, who gave a $100 million gift to Poetry magazine in 2002, also gifted Christ Church with an organ in 1991: the gallery organ built by Taylor and Boody in 1992.

It is said that the bishop at the time, the Rt. Rev. Ted Jones, suggested that the gift would be better deployed by gifting several smaller churches in the Diocese of Indianapolis their own pipe organ rather than adding an additional organ to the Cathedral (Christ Church already had a sizeable organ by Hellmuth Wolff in the chancel).

And while there is nothing wrong with this idea, per se, it doesn't have quite the same grand vision that Ruth Lilly must have had. The presence of this additional organ greatly enriches the music and liturgy of worship in this cathedral for the whole Diocese. Furthermore, the Cathedral sits in the very center of busy downtown Indianapolis and is uniquely suited to offer music to the whole region, not just on Sundays but during the week as well. Five weekdays a month, I played the organs (both of them at every service, mind you) at Evensong. These services were also broadcast on the radio. For many years, the Cathedral was able to maintain a weekly organ recital series, in part due to the high quality of both of those instruments, particularly the Taylor and Boody.

For me, personally, I will say that the organ was a delight, and I spent every spare moment I could on this organ. I sincerely believe this organ made me a better organist early in my career, and everyone – Episcopalian or otherwise – who has heard me since is a beneficiary. I probably don't say it enough, so let me say it again now: thank you, Ruth Lilly.

Isn't it the nature of gifts that giving begets more giving?

Everything that is given to our churches – pledges, endowments, stained glass windows, organs, vestments, 30 copies of an anthem, a new clergy position, a bronze bust of someone who appears in Lesser Feasts and Fasts – all of it has the possibility to form congregations and communities as disciples of Jesus Christ.

I hope that we are not too quick to criticize the givers of these gifts, but rather we respond with immense gratefulness and go and do likewise.

to give and give, and give again,
what God hath given thee;
to spend thyself nor count the cost;
to serve right gloriously
the God who gave all worlds that are,
and all that are to be.

–Geoffrey Anketel Studdert-Kennedy (Hymnal 1982: Hymn 9)

We should be grateful for CEEP. We don't need fewer CEEP conferences or attendees. We need more.

Why? Because I think we all agree that it's important to use endowments wisely. To whom much is given, much is expected. I can't remember who said that – it was either Jesus or Gandolf the Grey.

Do these parishes mess this up sometimes? Yes, for all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.

We should be grateful for endowed Episcopal parishes. We don't need fewer endowed Episcopal parishes. We need more.

Every church asks its members to give. We should be grateful when members actually do and when some of those members have the means to give more than the church can wisely spend in a given fiscal year.

And, frankly, we don't just need more endowed Episcopal parishes, we need more dioceses that are endowed. Nobody remembers the diocese when it comes time for an endowment, and that's a shame because a well-endowed diocese would have an opportunity to more creatively staff itself for the work of the kingdom beyond the more "required" diocesan work. (Actually, I could be totally off-base on this, but it's a thought that I've had more than once.)

I've worked in rich churches, and I've worked in poor churches. In my experience, endowed churches are still just churches. The copier still breaks down, the staff still celebrates birthdays, the undercroft still floods, the Gospel is still preached, the Eucharist is still celebrated, God is still praised.

What makes endowed churches different is that they can and should do more. They should be the best versions of themselves that they can.

Endowed parishes should be encouraged to think and act creatively, and many do. These innovative staff positions, creative projects, and new missions should be more readily shared with the wider church. Many of these projects fail. I know. I've seen them. These results should be shared too.

Finally, the whole Consortium should be willing to act boldly and creatively for the sake of the Gospel. The UCC and the Methodists have attractive, memorable national advertising campaigns. Why doesn't the Episcopal Church?

If Bishop Curry would agree to do a Super Bowl commercial, the members of CEEP could probably pick up the tab.

Labels: Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), money, Taylor and Boody

When I was assistant organist at the cathedral of the Episcopal Diocese of Indianapolis in the late aughts it was customary for the boys and girls of the choirs to begin the year with a retreat at Waycross Camp and Conference Center, just a short distance away from Bean Blossom.

It wasn't uncommon for boys and girls (mostly the girls) to pick up a "Bean Blossom" souvenir t-shirt nearby (they were tie-dyed) and wear it to choir rehearsals throughout the year. It was a reminder of the joyful experience and deeper friendships formed at that annual time together at Waycross.

For the choirs, "Bean Blossom" was just one more expression of togetherness.

So it is painful for me to read of the recent vandalism to St. David's, Bean Blossom.

And I can only imagine the heartbreak and fear that the people who make St. David's their spiritual home are experiencing.

It is the stereotypically unfortunate vandalism we have come to expect since the election of Tuesday, November 8, 2016: the president-elect is great; white people are great; gay people are not.

But it's not entirely surprising.

Between the cathedral on picturesque Monument Circle in downtown Indianapolis and the bucolic Waycross Camp you pass through Martinsville, Indiana.

Martinsville has a disturbing section on "prejudice" on their Wikipedia page, and to this day people in central Indiana remember it as being a particularly associated with white supremacists.

It was an alleged Ku Klux Klan stronghold in the 1920s and labeled a "sundown town." Blacks were expected to clear out before dark.

"Indiana Town: From Racist Past to Primary Present". NPR. 30 April 2008.

Martinsville is surely filled with good people who condemn the vandalism at St. David's, but there must be one or two in the area who still pine for the "old days."

And this is part of the unfortunate muck-raking that the president-elect seems to have wrought. Latent racist cultures and attitudes – that under-gird our society more than we care to admit – feel that their time has come (again).

...the kind of language used during the recent Presidential campaign has emboldened some people to become openly abusive and insulting. Our option as faithful people is to be sure we don’t respond in kind. The Episcopal Church will continue to welcome all people, to seek and serve Christ in the world around us, to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being – even those who deface our buildings.

Our buildings can be marred by anger and hatred – we will not allow our hearts to be defiled.

A Statement from Bishop Cate Waynick on Vandalism in Bean Blossom

Let's all put on our Bean Blossom shirts today.

Let's pray for the people who cowardly spray painted this church in the middle of the night. I believe part of the message of the church is that hate can lie buried and fester, but when love is buried it blossoms.

Let's let love blossom in the face of all this hate.

Now the green blade rises from the buried grain,
Wheat that in the dark earth many years has lain;
Love lives again, that with the dead has been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.

Labels: Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), Indianapolis, St. David's (Bean Blossom)

Cathedrals have been in the news lately.

In particular I'm thinking of

1. A video from Indianapolis
2. News of surging attendance in England
3. A final Evensong in Hawaii

Episcopal Cathedrals are hard places. I know. I used to work at one (full disclosure: it was Indy). And I used to work at a place that occasionally functioned as one in a diocese without a cathedral church.

There tends to be a lot going on all the time, and the pressure to be the liturgical and religious "standard-bearer" for the diocese, the city, and the region can be immense.

Why? Because cathedrals find themselves at the center of things by design.

The cathedral simply houses the official seat of the bishop. The name of the place comes from the bishop's ceremonial chair, the "cathedra". And even if the bishop is rarely there (maybe only at Christmas, Easter, ordinations, confirmation) this gives the church the name and status of "Cathedral" 365 days a year.

There is wide variability in the way cathedrals are governed on both side of the Atlantic. In the UK, even despite an effort toward standardization in 1999, there are still differences in how the cathedrals operate, particularly in regard to who appoints the Dean (the Crown, the Bishop, trustees, drawing lots, throwing stones, etc.; it's a real gordian knot that I saw here: tl;dr)

In the US things are generally a bit more consistent even if they're not any clearer. Cathedrals are generally parish churches that have special status. In many cases, they started life as a parish church, like Christ Church, Indianapolis did before it became the cathedral on October 10, 1954.

There are a few US cathedrals that operate as "true" cathedrals, not parish churches. I think the one in Boston is one because they must not report their parish statistics? (Good luck finding their chart with the Studying Your Congregation and Community tool on the Episcopal Church website).

Recently, the staff of Christ Church, Indy compiled some of their stories on race and racism into a short, well-produced video. It has been viewed over 13,000 on Facebook in the past week.

Of course the Cathedral's rich liturgical life continues, and it is exciting to be able to see and hear recordings of so much of the Cathedral's music in recent days. I've been delighted to catch a couple live videos on Facebook of the weekly Thursday evensong service. You can find them to watch again on the cathedral Facebook page.

Speaking of a rich liturgical life, this has proved very good news in England.

...This analysis finds support in the C of E’s own ‘growth research’ programme, which stresses the cathedral as a place for ‘peace, contemplation, worship, music and a friendly atmosphere’. Significantly, it is midweek evensong that has boomed, not Sunday matins or mass, with attendances doubling in a decade. These visitors are untroubled by Philip Larkin’s church as ‘a shape less recognisable each week/ A purpose more obscure’. They come for the music.

Jenkins, Simon. "Why cathedrals are soaring". The Spectator, 8 October 2016. Emphasis added.

This is pretty remarkable to hear. Cathedral churches, which are the churches most likely to have the capability to offer a service of Evensong mid-week (not just on Sunday, mind you!), are seeing a major uptick in the numbers at these services.

The videos of recent Evensong from services at Christ Church, Indy have been viewed a little over 1,000 times as of this writing. That's exciting to see, but I bet the service attendance was a lot lower. When I was the assistant organist for these services back in the late aughts, it wasn't uncommon to look out into the nave on a frigid Hoosier winter evening and see an attendance in the single digits for Evensong.

And yet like the sanctuary lamp that remains lit, the Church's worship and song continue day in and day out. As the old hymn puts it, "the voice of prayer is never silent / nor dies the strain of prayer away".

So I for one am glad to see this news from England, and the large interest in the service videos from Indianapolis because it affirms what I and many others believe about what the Episcopal Church should be doing. The Rev. Broderick Greer put it this way:

People are hungry for sacraments and historic liturgy. This is the Episcopal Church's moment. Either we'll seize it or stay on the sidelines

— Broderick Ghoul 👻 (@BroderickGreer) November 6, 2013

Put another way: do we have the courage to truly be the church we are?

We've pondered the question of the "power of particularity" previously. See Brooks, David - on why Anglican church music helps form our identity

A final sad note: The Cathedral in Hawaii has apparently offered its last regular Choral Evensong for the foreseeable future. More on that development here: Three little words (those words are "A new direction", the headline about the situation in the local paper). And a recap of John Renke's last service, including a full audio recording, here: A beautiful farewell.

I've never been to Hawaii, but this strikes me as an especially profound liturgical and cultural loss for this place. It's not as if one can just pick up and head to another cathedral easily. By my reckoning, the nearest cathedral is in San Diego, California, 2,521 miles away.

Cathedrals will always be chaotic, busy places. There will always be a lot (maybe too much!) going on there, but this is sort of how I hope things would be at the intersection of the city and the diocese.

And I for one certainly hope that daily prayer, including Evensong, will be one of those things that will be going on.

I hope you will join me in my prayer that our cathedrals will be places that seek the truth and worship God in the beauty of holiness.

That cathedrals will strive to feed those who are hungry for the sacraments and historic liturgy. And those who are just plain hungry.

That cathedrals, of all places, will be held up on the three pillars of scripture, tradition, and reason.

Labels: cathedrals, Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), Evensong, liturgy, St. Andrew's Cathedral (Honolulu)

One hundred and fifty years ago today, the Choir of Men & Boys of Christ Church (now a Cathedral), Indianapolis sang at the Indiana State House while Abraham Lincoln's body lay in state.

Labels: Abraham Lincoln, Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), Civil War

This story begins with a service of Choral Evensong. The occasion was the Annual Conference of the Association of Anglican Musicians (AAM) this past summer in Washington, D. C.

I was very pleased to serve as the organist for this particular service -- and I say very pleased, because my current work does not allow me to tend to my organ playing as much as I used to. As an Assistant Organist (which I served as in an Episcopal congregation from 2002-2004, a Lutheran congregation from 2004-2006, and an Episcopal cathedral from 2006-2010) one's domain is almost exclusively the organ, with a major emphasis on accompanying. I honed these skills as best I could, but it wasn't until my work at Christ Church Cathedral, Indianapolis, that I really come to understand the finer points of choral accompanying on the organ.

But I digress. Suffice it to say that I relish these opportunities to accompany, in any setting, because they are a kind of homecoming. More than that, they allow me the rare opportunity take a back seat and observe the work of other (usually far superior) conductors, with different music.

“Truly the Lord is in this place. This is no other than the house of God. This is the gate of heaven.”

The Introit for the AAM Evensong was "Truly the Lord is in this place" by English composer Bernard Barrell (1919-2005).

Barrell is not a major composer. His name appears in the Grove Dictionary of Music but only in the entry for his wife. The entry for English composer Joyce Howard Barrell says: "In 1945 she married the composer Bernard Barrell and in 1946 they settled in Suffolk."

I had prepared the accompaniment for this Introit, but there wasn't much to it. Some four-note cluster chords in the Lydian mode (F-G-A-B), and a few other places where the organ seemed to very closely follow the voices. Easy peasy. There were other things -- a busy evening service, the psalm, the anthem, and a Howells premiere -- to occupy my time. On to the next thing.

As the service drew closer I reminded myself that I would need to not short-change this piece, it being the easiest. I checked my notes, my registrations. I also paid special attention to the rhythm of the choral parts (all quarter notes, like the organ part) since the choir would be in the liturgical west end of the church for this, while the organ would dutifully remain in the east end. There would be no sightlines. I would have to keep it together with the choir without seeing the conductor. No problem, I thought.

And so, the pre-service rehearsal arrived, the first time I had heard the choir.

We began the piece, and then something remarkable happened. This simple, short little anthem, that I hadn't really expected much of, expanded into something so rich and beautiful that I didn't think it possible.

You see, I had neglected to play through the choral parts. But even if I had, I'm not sure that I would have been fully aware of the rich harmonic alchemy that Barrell had designed in combination with the organ. It really is quite something; it is the very definition of "more than the some of its parts".

And this is exactly the kind of setting that you need for the words from Genesis 28:17.

Truly the Lord is in this place. This is no other than the house of God. This is the gate of heaven.

These are beautiful words. We heard them this summer in the lectionary readings on July 20 (Proper 11A, track 1).

Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. And the LORD stood beside him and said, "I am the LORD, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you." Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, "Surely the LORD is in this place-- and I did not know it!" And he was afraid, and said, "How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven."

So Jacob rose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. He called that place Bethel.

In context, the words become even richer. The imagery is of dreams, promise, covenant, numerous descendants, promised land, etc.

When we sing this in our churches, we evoke these things. Our dreams, God's promises, our communion with the saints, and more.

Our worship is all of these things. Like this music by Barrell, it should be more than the sum of it's parts.

We only need to listen fully and be amazed.

Labels: AAM, Barrell, Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), church music, Genesis, Proper 11A (track 1)

There is nothing more beautiful than the musical heritage of the church on "Laetare" Sunday, the Fourth Sunday in Lent. It is also known as "Refreshment" Sunday, coming as it does half-way through Lent. It is also, according to the Episcopal Musicians' Handbook known as "Mid-Lent", but I've never seen this name used outside of that handy spiral-bound reference.

But I want to focus on that initial name, "Laetare". Like it's counterpart in Advent, "Gaudete" Sunday, "Laetare" (Lay-TAH-ray) takes its name from the proper Introit chant of the day, "Laetare Jerusalem".

The Sundays "Gaudete" and "Laetare" both come just past the halfway point in their respective "purple" seasons. Both words mean rejoice. And the liturgical color for both days (if you can manage it) is pink, the liturgical color of joy.

Color tangent: Most churches, if they see any pink at all, only see it in Advent when the third candle on the wreath is pink. There is yet no mechanism to deploy a pink cue to the masses in Lent, but perhaps a type of Lenten wreath could be devised? Thorns would have to be involved. And we could use six or seven candles to lead us in to Holy Week? And perhaps it could take the shape of the Tenebrae hearse. No, this is a bad idea.

But enough with the semantics. On to the music.

At the parish where I serve, we have instituted the tradition of singing the Introit text itself to the traditional plainsong, though we sing it in English as adapted by Bruce Ford in The American Gradual [link to large PDF].

The words of the Introit come from Isaiah 66:10-11. Jerusalem is to be loved, praised. She is a woman. She provides nourishing milk. (In the parallelism in 66:11, omitted in the Introit, we get "that you may drink deeply with delight from her glorious bosom".) We are to rejoice, be glad, and "sing out in exultation".

It doesn't sound much like Lent so far, which is why this is such a wonderful tradition to keep.

The only thing that smacks of Lent here is the quick "all you who mourn for her" . But it's an interesting imperative that precedes: rejoice with her.

Even in our penitential season, we can be joyful.

Even though we have stripped out our "Alleluias" from the liturgy we can still have joy. Remember: we have only done this so they will perhaps sparkle a bit more at the Easter Vigil. Our Orthodox brothers and sisters actually say Alleluia more in Lent, a joyful approach. "Laetare" can give us Westerners a sense of this joy.

The Psalm verse here from 122 is also worth noting. It's not often in Lent that we hear "I was glad when they said to me * let us go to the house of the Lord".

Psalm 23 makes it's first appearance of the year on this day. It will quickly resurface on "Good Shepherd" Sunday (another great Sunday nickname!) in Eastertide. This beloved psalm of the church is worth singing twice, and we gladly receive this tradition of the church. To my ear, the word shepherd rings more prominently in Lent. It is, in this context, a psalm of guidance, of pilgrimage. We are refreshed at the stream even as we journey onward.

Church musicians can't get enough of this psalm, it seems. I suspect that I'm not the only one who also tends to put down a version of this at the Offertory. This year, the neo-pastoral setting by Lennox Berkeley (1903-1989) fit the bill.

The final bit of refreshment on this day comes in the form of the hymn "Jerusalem the golden", a beautiful hymn by Bernard of Cluny. It well-known to the tune EWING, and this is how it is printed in the Hymnal 1982.

Closing the service with this hymn bookends everything nicely. Here, as at the introit, we get images of nourishment "Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blest...".

The hymn tune helps make the midpoint of the third phrase of every stanza stand out nicely.

joys
daylight
have conquered in the fight
to that dear land of rest

That particular pairing of text and tune always makes me tear up a bit in the final stanza.

One of the reasons I'm so particularly fond of this hymn is that my introduction to it at Christ Church, Indianapolis, was accompanied by great festivity.

The men of the parish adopted the tradition of "Mothering Sunday" and prepared a rather lavish breakfast for everyone to enjoy between services. It was refreshment indeed, and all sang EWING with that much more vigor, having enjoyed such splendid milk and honey beforehand.

Whatever our traditions on this day, they come from the Church, our Mother. We are encouraged and refreshed in the midst of Lent.

Two final thoughts about two innovations:

A further innovation this year at the parish where I serve, the opening hymn was "Deck thyself, my soul, with gladness". We should not squander any opportunity for joy on this day.

A further innovation for next year: I think the choir should sell Simnel Cake and sherry at coffee hour.

Labels: Advent, Bernard of Cluny, Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), food and drink, Gaudete, hymns, Laetare, Lent

This is, by my count, the sixth year in a row that the choir of St. Thomas, New York has sung Kenneth Leighton's Missa Christi at the Festal Eucharist on the Last Sunday after Pentecost (called "Christ the King" Sunday in the Revised Common Lectionary"). It is a splendid piece of music, and I am very glad that it has entered the repertoire there.

The Missa Christi, Kenneth Leighton's last choral work, was commissioned in 1988 by my mentor at Christ Church, Indianapolis, Frederick Burgomaster. I vividly remember learning the accompaniment to the Gloria for my first concert at Christ Church (I was the Assistant Organist there 2006-2010). It was a daunting, but very fruitful task. Other than the stately Solus ad victimam, I had never before accompanied any Leighton, so this was a real baptism by fire. But it led me to value this work and many others by Leighton. His compositions are marked by beautifully craftmanship, oozing with his own modern and stunningly lyrical counterpoint.

The brief organ conclusion to the Gloria reveals at the last second an untold harmonic dimension -- another world lurking beneath the surface, like the earth dropping out from beneath your feet. It makes you re-evaluate everything you've just heard and makes you wonder about what is to come.

But this year, I'm thinking especially of the bass solo that begins the Benedictus. This kinky descending line was written with special intention for a bass in the choir of Christ Church: Tom Woody. Tom died this fall.

Tom was a integral to the music at Christ Church for decades, first as a choirboy and later as a bass in the choir. And I love knowing that this little piece of the Missa Christi inspired by him, crafted by Leighton, lives on in the service of the church and in the praise of almighty God.

Father of all, we pray to you for Tom, and for all those whom we love but see no longer. Grant to them eternal rest. Let light perpetual shine upon them. May his soul and the souls of all the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Labels: Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), Leighton, St Thomas (New York)

You might think that there would be fewer Evensong services in the summer, and you would be right.

But there are some wonderful things that happen in the summer that lead to some great singing at Evensong services. I took part in my own at the Royal School of Church Music (RSCM) Carolina Course last month at Duke Chapel.

And I'm just back from Evensong from the Washington DC RSCM Course concluding Evensong at the National Cathedral on Sunday, where the service was also splendid.

I'm not familiar with much about the National Cathedral, and I wish I didn't have to be critical of what was a very fine service, but I will say that one of the things that made the Carolina Course evensong so meaningful was the excellent preaching, and the focus on music in the sermon. I think that with choristers from all over the country, (even a couple from Christ Church Cathedral, Indianapolis!) this was a real missed opportunity this past Sunday.

Girls' Choristers Course at St. Thomas, Fifth Avenue, New York City

• Choral Evensong - Tuesday 30 July
• Choral Evensong - Thursday 1 August
• Choral Eucharist - Sunday 4 August

The Three Choirs Festival

Choral Evensong

The Southern Cathedral's Festival

Choral Evensong (will air tomorrow, Wednesday 7 August and be available for the week following).

Labels: Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), Duke Chapel, Evensong, National Cathedral, RSCM, St Thomas (New York), Three Choirs Festival

On the second Thursday in June for the past 48 years, the Episcopal Cathedral of the Diocese of Indianapolis has held the Christ Church Cathedral Women’s Strawberry Festival.

Today, the newspaper of record in the Circle City had this look back, including some great photos of Pat Harding, who started the festival.

Labels: Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), Christ Church Cathedral Women's Strawberry Festival, Episcopal Church, food and drink

This is the forth year in a row that the fine choir of St. Thomas, New York has sung Kenneth Leighton's Missa Christi (service webcast) on the Last Sunday after Pentecost (called "Christ the King" Sunday in the Revised Common Lectionary"). I hope that it occupies this place in their music list for many years to come.

It's a thrilling piece, and one with some meaning to me personally.

The Missa Christi, Kenneth Leighton's last choral work, was commissioned in 1988 by my mentor at Christ Church, Indianapolis, Frederick Burgomaster. It was one of the first major pieces I accompanied at Christ Church in my tenure as assistant organist there (quite an initiation!).

Leighton grew up as a chorister at Wakefield Cathedral, and he said of his composition "In my music … I speak as one who comes from inside the Church." That may be, but this insider's voice is not a tame one. Even church "insiders" can't help but stand up a little straighter and be taken with the immense physiognomy of the Gloria as a whole and the incredible, layered density of the Amen at the end, catapulted by an organ chord from another harmonic dimension into that "vast expanse of interstellar space" where hosts of angels praise our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ as he sits at the right hand of the Father.

The rest of the Mass is pretty nice too.

That quirky bass solo in the Benedictus was written for one of the basses of the Indianapolis Choir, whom I had the good fortune to know in my time there.

The clarity that emerges at the words "grant us peace" in the Agnus Dei is heart-wrenching.

Labels: Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), Leighton, St Thomas (New York)

Here's a Special Edition of the Lenten Music Notes podcast that includes a complete performance of Henry Purcell's Voluntary in D minor.

My memory was that I had recorded the Voluntary for Double Organ (which was performed at the Lenten Preaching Service at St. Paul's, Richmond yesterday), but these pieces are so very similar that I had in fact recorded its single organ counterpart.

This recording comes from the three-manual Taylor and Boody organ at Christ Church Cathedral, Indianapolis.

For those who are interested: this was performed on the Rückpositiv using the Quintedena 8' and the Rohrflöte 4'

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Labels: Christ Church Cathedral (Indianapolis), Lent, Purcell, St Paul's (Richmond)