the cassandra pages

Singing at the Oratoire

On Sunday afternoon, our choir sang here. This is the Oratoire St-Joseph, a huge Roman Catholic shrine and basilica on the side of our local mountain, Mont Royal, overlooking the north-western side of the city.

This was the view in the early afternoon, before our rehearsal began. Starting at the parking lot far below this terrace at the top of the building are sets of steps, which pilgrims climb up on their knees. I walked up, but once inside the building I used the escalator -- the most devout go all the way aux genoux. Below the main sanctuary is another chapel, and a shrine room filled with high banks of flickering votive candles, and the crutches of those who believed themselves to be healed by Brother André, founder of this shrine to St. Joseph. Brother André, credited with two "official" miracles but believed by millions to have healed many more, was made Saint André by the pope last year, and the Oratory -- whose grandeur I doubt that simple man could have ever imagined -- is a site of pilgrimage for people from all over the world and one of the most-visited sites in Montreal.

The occasion was a service celebrating 40 years of dialogue between Roman Catholics and Anglicans, and it was mainly about and for the clergy who have been involved with this mutual listening project over the years. We had been asked by the Bishop of Montreal to represent the Anglicans, and we sang both separately and together with Les Petits Chanteurs, the boys' choir  resident at the Oratory.

Along with the  clergy, we robed in a huge sacristy to the side of the main altar. This is part of our group, getting ready off in one corner of the room.

There were bishops. Lots of bishops.

I quite like the design of the Oratory; some don't. It's very modern, and feels Germanic, which is perhaps odd for Montreal where most of the Catholic churches are ornate, French, and rather baroque. This building has a number of large expressionist wood carvings, extremely beautiful ironwork (the central grille in the photo below, for instance, and you can see some candle stands at the bottom far left), many glittering mosaics (on either side of the grille) and a gigantic organ.

Here's the boys' choir rehearsing; we were seated beyond them on those semicircular benches, behind the crucifix in front of the grille. That rod and semi-circle at the left are a suspension system holding a number of tiny microphones.

They sang Bruckner's "Locus iste," a great piece; they sang the notes well, but (it seemed to me) without much conviction or feeling. We sang a Magnificat and a big Victorian number for double choir, "Hail Gladdening Light," by Charles Wood. In the Oratory's acoutsic, it was quite thrilling to hear our voices, and their overtones, reverberating for many seconds after we had finished the last chord.

And here's the view when I left after the service, around 6:00 pm. I walked down, and by the time I reached my car my knees were protesting a lot! Down a mountain is always worse, for me, than up -- somehow I don't think Saint Andre will be fixing my old ski injuries anytime soon. But one of the great pleasures of singing in this choir is the occasional chance to perfom in different venues and circumstances; this was fun.

Montreal Anglicans and Occupy Protesters: A Different Approach

At our Anglican cathedral here in Montreal, I'm very pleased that just today, the Dean opened our undercroft kitchen for use by the Occupy Montreal food people 3 days per week.

J. and I have also both agreed to serve on a newly-forming social justice committee; we'll have our second meeting this Sunday. It feels better to be working in a group, trying to raise consciousness among the congregation, bearing public witness, and eventually taking real action. I want to help make the church and diocese politically responsible, as they should be, and to be a voice for those who have none.

A New Wrinkle at "Occupy London"

Over in London at Blaugustine, Natalie has a very good post about her take on what's happening between the Occupy protesters and their "hosts", St. Paul's Cathedral and the Church of England. St. Paul's Dean resigned today; he has been in favor of seeking an injunction to evict the protesters and has decided to step aside in order to allow other leadership to take over. My comment on Natalie's post states briefly what I think about this, but you can probably guess!

Remembrance and Renewal

 ("The scars of September 11")

Our cathedral community includes a number of Canadian-Americans, many of whom came up during the 1960s and never left. We are the odd ones who came recently, driven by a different war and a different set of national paranoias and persecutions. Each Sunday there is a place in the liturgy for "the Prayers of the People" - a lay-led set of intercessions, fairly freely composed as a litany, in which we pray for the world, for our local community, for the Church, and for each other. It comes right before the general confession, which precedes communion.

J. and I were asked to lead these prayers on September 11, and although I rarely include prayers here, I thought this time I would, since I wrote them for this occasion and they express pretty well my feelings about this day -- and I also thought some of you might be interested in this part of what we liturgy-besotted Anglicans actually do. Constructing and writing liturgical text is a challenge that I like; I've done quite a bit of it but most often for groups of mixed faith traditions. Liturgy is like drama - or perhaps I should say, it is drama -- there must be ebb and flow; beauty and rhythm akin to prose poetry; a build-up of tension and release; and an overall control of the flow of emotion and content. It can be very effective and meaningful, or it can fall flat. In our tradition we have a pretty high standard of writing and language, and that's both challenging and helpful.

When I address "God" here I am speaking not to some omnipotent deity "out there" seated on a throne from which he (of course, "he") manipulates us like puppets, but to the force for good that I believe exists not only in the world but inside each of us -- what Paul Tillich called "the ground of being" -- that we can access when we reflect deeply and are motivated in our decisions and actions by love.

--

On this tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001, let us pray for our world.

Dear Lord, today we remember. We each remember where we were ten years ago, our shock and horror. We remember the strangers whose deaths we witnessed, those we knew who were affected, and those whose heroism saved others. We remember the families of the victims, and the survivors. And we pray for all of them.

(all) Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Ten years ago, a friend wrote:

Another week has come to an end. Some of the people in my neighborhood are able to move back. There is only access by foot and many police checkpoints. People are trying to get back to some kind of normalcy. Our building isn’t open yet. Another, around the corner, may need to come down – the fire damage was extensive from the plane parts that hit and are still in the building. I have concern for the children in the neighborhood who will have to return to this. We, along with the rest of the country, are waiting to see what happens next. I can’t imagine the type of war people are suggesting. Someone wrote on a sidewalk nearby, “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.”

Dear Lord, today we mourn. We mourn for our lost innocence, and for a changed world – a world which has become more fearful, and, as a result, more extremist, more paranoid, more violent and oppressive, and much less secure. We mourn our inability to reach toward one another, and our perpetual human tendency to turn to violence because we cannot believe strongly enough in love. We mourn our failure to embrace difference, and our missed opportunities for humility, self-examination, and peace-making. As Christians, we mourn the fact that you have told us again and again to turn away from hatred, and to love one another -- and still we have not heard you.

And so, Lord, today we bring to you our sadness, our frustration, our fears for ourselves and our children. We bring our uncertainties, and we bring our hope. Help us to know who we are meant to be, and what we are called to do, and to act with courage and faith for justice, truth and peace, always remembering Jesus’ commandment: love one another.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for our country of Canada, and for our unique city of Montreal, home to so many people from all over the world, living in relative harmony. We pray that our country and city may continue to be beacons of peace, freedom, and opportunity, and that our leaders may heed these words from the First Book of Kings: “A multitude of wise men is the salvation of the world, and a sensible king is the stability of his people.”

(all) Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

 

Let us pray for the Church

(specific prayers are said for our parish and diocese, and our prayer partner, the diocese of Masasi and this week's prayer cycle-partner, Myanmar.)

Dear God, we pray for the Church. Imbue our leaders with the courage to preach the Gospel as your Son intended: to be peacemakers, to champion the oppressed and the weak, and to stand and speak for peace, justice, and honesty against the powers and principalities of the world. Inspire in all of us faith in your grace and in your presence working among us, and help us to remember these words of Archbishop Oscar Romero: “Do not worry about whether or not you are effective. Worry about what is possible for you to do, which is always greater than you imagine.”

(all) Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Let us pray for members of our own community:

(a list of names follows of those in special need) 

And let us take a moment to pray for those closest to us, and for those we love who have departed from this life. (silence)

(all) Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

And so, let us bring ourselves before God, asking his forgiveness and renewal:

(all) Have mercy upon us, most merciful Father; in your compassion, forgive us our sins, known and unknown, things done and left undone, and so uphold us by your Spirit that we may live and serve you in newness of life, to the honour and glory of your name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

A)    On this tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001, let us pray for our world.

Dear Lord, today we remember. We each remember where we were ten years ago, our shock and horror. We remember the strangers whose deaths we witnessed, those we knew who were affected, and those whose heroism saved others. We remember the families of the victims, and the survivors. And we pray for all of them.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

 

Ten years ago, a friend wrote:

Another week has come to an end. Some of the people in my neighborhood are able to move back. There is only access by foot and many police checkpoints. People are trying to get back to some kind of normalcy. Our building isn’t open yet. Another, around the corner, may need to come down – the fire damage was extensive from the plane parts that hit and are still in the building. I have concern for the children in the neighborhood who will have to return to this.

We, along with the rest of the country, are waiting to see what happens next. I can’t imagine the type of war people are suggesting. Someone wrote on a sidewalk nearby, “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.”

 

Dear Lord, today we mourn. We mourn for our lost innocence, and for a changed world – a world which has become more fearful, and, as a result, more extremist, more paranoid, more violent and oppressive, and much less secure. We mourn our inability to reach toward one another, and our perpetual human tendency to turn to violence because we cannot believe strongly enough in love. We mourn our failure to embrace difference, and our missed opportunities for humility, self-examination, and peace-making. As Christians, we mourn the fact that you have told us again and again to turn away from hatred, and to love one another -- and still we have not heard you.

And so, Lord, today we bring to you our sadness, our frustration, our fears for ourselves and our children. We bring our uncertainties, and we bring our hope. Help us to know who we are meant to be, and what we are called to do, and to act with courage and faith for justice, truth and peace, always remembering Jesus’ commandment: love one another.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

 

We pray for our country of Canada, and for our unique city of Montreal, home to so many people from all over the world, living in relative harmony. We pray that our country and city may continue to be beacons of peace, freedom, and opportunity, and that our leaders may heed these words from the First Book of Kings: “A multitude of wise men is the salvation of the world, and a sensible king is the stability of his people.”

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

 

 

B) Let us pray for THE CHURCH

In our Cathedral Parish, we pray for Paul and Rhonda, our clergy; we pray for the ministry team and servers, for the vergers, for the greeters, for all those involved in our music ministry, for the support and office staff, and for the members of cathedral Forum and Corporation.

We pray for the renewal of commitment to Christian Life in our community; for our ecumenical fellowship with neighbouring churches; and for La Communauté du Rédempteur, and we pray for a new spirit of interest and cooperation with those of other faiths.

We pray for our Diocese, especially for St Mary’s Church in Kirkland, and their priest, The Revd Lorne Tardy, and for our bishop, the Rt.  Rev. Barry Clarke.

We pray for The Anglican Communion – for our Prayer Partners in The Diocese of Masasi, and especially this week for Sittwe in Myanmar and its bishops, The Rt Revd Barnabas Theaung Hawi, and The Rt Revd Sein Aung, and for Rowan Williams, the Archibishop of Canturbury

 

Dear God, we pray for the Church. Imbue our leaders with the courage to preach the Gospel as your Son intended: to be peacemakers, to champion the oppressed and the weak, and to stand and speak for peace, justice, and honesty against the powers and principalities of the world. Inspire in all of us faith in your grace and in your presence working among us, and help us to remember these words of Archbishop Oscar Romero: “Do not worry about whether or not you are effective. Worry about what is possible for you to do, which is always greater than you imagine.”

 

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

 

 

 

Let us pray for members of our own community:

For those In Special Need: Scott Harding, Swanne Gordon, Andrew, Christopher Marlow, Joshua, Barbara Smith, Tobias, Gerry

 

Continued Support: Nancy Gilbert, Carolyn Edmonds, Duncan Peter, Lisa, Christopher Coolidge, Alice Knewstubb, Gloria Hall, Nathalie, Roger, Alain, Marie-Claire, Jonathan Fleming, James

 

And let us take a moment to pray for those closest to us, and for those we love who have departed from this life.

 

 

And so, using the form printed in the bulletin, let us bring ourselves before God, asking his forgiveness and renewal:

 

Have mercy upon us, most merciful Father; in your compassion, forgive us

our sins, known and unknown, things done and left undone, and so uphold

us by your Spirit that we may live and serve you in newness of life, to the

honour and glory of your name;

through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Feral Capitalism

OK, a rare rant.

This morning I got a note from a Canadian friend with whom I often discuss politics and religion. He was sending me a link to an article by David Harvey, professor at CUNY, about the British riots, where he picked up on the Daily Mail's phrase "nihilistic and feral teenagers" and wrote about the larger phenomenon he calls "feral capitalism." This was my reply to my friend:

I was appalled by (Archbishop of Canterbury) Rowan Williams' remarks to the House of Lords, and even more surprised that The Guardian, of all places, lauded what he said.

"Feral capitalism" is a perfect phrase for what we're seeing. We are so free to talk about "bad parenting" and "criminality" while our governments bomb innocents, rob billions of dollars from the economies to pay for their wars, send all the available manufacturing jobs offshore, and allow millionaires and giant corporations to evade taxes while cutting social services -- and then are astonished when people who have nothing take the things they want, the same things that are touted daily in mass advertising and the media and give prestige in a society that cares mainly about consumption and wealth. What, exactly, are criminality and morality, I'd like to ask? Shall we go back to the Book of Kings and see what's written there? Perhaps Williams ought to read the prophets as well as the Gospels in addition to Dostoyevsky and Marx!

Then too, we seem astounded to discover large segments of the population who are basically nihilistic. We already know that 50% or more of the people don't vote. They already don't feel they are part of this "society" we're defending; they were dropped from it long ago, especially in class societies like England. In the U.S., which I don't often defend, at least poor kids have a chance of moving up; fewer doors are barred, and rising from poverty through education and hard work is a narrative built into American culture -- look at Bill Clinton -- such people are not successfully discriminated against by people with titles or inherited wealth. I can't help but feel that a backdrop of royal wedding excess, Olympic fever, as well as the constant barrage of media messages have contributed. Michael Adams' charts of trends in North American social values, in his books like "Fire and Ice" show this very clearly and disturbingly.

David Harvey writes:

Thatcherism unchained the feral instincts of capitalism (the “animal spirits” of the entreprenuer they coyly named it) and nothing has transpired to curb them since. Slash and burn is now openly the motto of the ruling classes pretty much everywhere.

This is the new normal in which we live. This is what the next grand commission of enquiry should address. Everyone, not just the rioters, should be held to account. Feral capitalism should be put on trial for crimes against humanity as well as for crimes against nature.

Sadly, this is what these mindless rioters cannot see or demand. Everything conspires to prevent us from seeing and demanding it also. This is why political power so hastily dons the robes of superior morality and unctuous reason so that no one might see it as so nakedly corrupt and stupidly irrational.

But he does go on to point out places where instances that give hope for change. In my lifetime, the "Powers and Principalities," to use Walter Wink's phrase, have only become more powerful, into which the institutional Church is inextricably entwined, so it is hard to imagine the process reversing. I too am appalled by mindless rioting and looting, especially by children, but I am not surprised, not at all.

I was not poor myself, but grew up among the rural poor, and have lived most of my life in mixed neighborhoods where I've interacted daily with disenfranchised people. People whose lives include education, love, opportunity, mentors, expectations, and hope cannot apply their standards to those who have none of those things.

A very small example: I've always grown flowers, both in front of my house and in the backyard. Every year, I'd lose some of the front flowers to poor local children wo lived in Section 8 housing down the street. Once when I saw two girls heading down the street with the hands full of bright tulips, I followed and caught up with them. They stopped, chagrined, and I asked them why they had taken the flowers. "Because we wanted them," one said, with perfect honesty. "Because they're so pretty," said the other, "and we don't have anything like that at home." I told them they could always have some flowers to pick, if they'd ring the doorbell first and ask rather than just taking them. They said fine, and did that.

I don't tell that story to excuse the behavior of the rioters and looters, simply to say that the inequalities have grown far too great, and that "because I wanted them" is a very basic rationale for the non-thinking, impulsive behavior we've just witnessed. Bad parenting or failed education are, of course, huge factors, but in my opinion they're not the end reason but further symptoms of a much deeper underlying problem. These phenomena don't arise out of a vacuum, but against a cultural background of savage, rampant capitalism where great crimes by the powerful -- from the highest institutions to the richest individuals, often in collusion with one another -- are not only unpunished, but rewarded.

Music for Trinity: Palestrina to Messiaen, with a Russian detour

Now that Christ has ascended, and the Holy Spirit descended (last week, on Pentecost), the liturgical calendar marks tomorrow as Trinity Sunday, the end of the Easter season and a feast celebrating the Trinity of Pater, Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus. Please don't ask me to explain it to you! It's probably better to listen to music that approaches "le mystère de la Sainte Trinité," in the words of Olivier Messaien.

The practical part is that Trinity Sunday is the beginning of "ordinary time" -- that long, long season of green vestments and altar cloths stretching all through the summer and fall. It means in another week we go on "chori vacation" for a couple of months, and those who show up to sing on Sunday mornings won't have to put on heavy cassocks and surplices.

Tomorrow, however, we will, but we'll be singing some glorious music while we sweat, and hearing more on the organ. Here's the full program, below; Evensong will be broadcast live/streamed live on the internet on Radio Ville-Marie at 4:00 pm Eastern Daylight Savings Time, so if you'd like to end your weekend with an hour-long concert of almost-all-Russian choral music, here's a rare chance to do just that. The Rachmaninoff piece is from his "All Night Vigil," one of the great, great works of liturgical music.The inks in teh programme below give information and a few include online resources for listening.

It's a Sunday for poetry too: I am one of the lectors, and was surprised and happy to to see that the passage I'll be reading is Genesis 1:1, "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth ."

TRINITY SUNDAY,  CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL, MONTREAL

10:00 am Choral Eucharist
The Cathedral Singers

Prelude: Le Mystère de la Sainte Trinité  from Le Corps glorieux [Messiaen himself: Grooveshark], Olivier Messiaen (1908-92)

Mass Setting: Missa Brevis, Kenneth Leighton (1929-88)

Introit: O lux beata Trinitas [text] [Leeuwarder Madrigaalkoor: YouTube], William Byrd (1540-1623)

Motet: O beata Trinitas [text] [Skinner: NML] (info), Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (1525-94)

Postlude: St. Patrick's Breastplate - Allegro maestoso from Sonata Celtica, No. 4 in c, Op. 153 [Payne: NML] (info),  Charles Villiers Stanford (1852-1942)

4:00 pm Evensong
The Cathedral Singers

Prelude: Gloria tibi Trinitas, John Bull (1562-1628)

Introit: Cherubic Hymn [text] [YouTube], Dimitri Bortniansky (1751-1825)

Preces and Responses: “Dresden,” John Sanders (1933-2003)

Psalm: 146 (Atkins)

Magnificat: [Polyansky: YouTube], Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873-1943) 

Nunc Dimittis: [Kelly: YouTube], Alexander Gretchaninoff (1864-1956) 

Anthem: Hymn to the Trinity [text] [St. Louis Cathedral: YouTube], Pyotr Tchaikovsky (1840-93) 

Postlude: Gloria tibi Trinitas, John Bull

 

A Choir in Pictures (and Sound)

I've written a lot about the choir I sing in at Christ Church Cathedral, Montreal, but I don't think I've ever posted any pictures. On Easter I took my camera along with that (and you) in mind.

Here are some of the irrepressible Trebles, in the choir room in the cathedral undercroft before the 10:00 am service. They sing with us on most of the major feast days, and a few other Sundays during the year. The Treble Choir practices weekly and each child gets a remarkable music education in the process.

The music for each service is written on the whiteboard, at the far right. Beyond it, out of the picture, is a whole wall of filing cabinets: the music library, which also extends outside this room.

Before each service we have a lot of music to organize into our folders. On the left is Carole, our fabulous first soprano soloist (she's also a jazz recording artist and, with her partner Alain runs a well-known jazz label.) On her right is Mary, another first soprano, who's been in the choir for two decades and takes care of all our robes and surplices. You can see the wall of music cubbies, one for each singer, in the background. Another choir member,  Shayna, is the music librarian. Both of those volunteer jobs are significant contributions of time and skill.

 

Here's Hilary, the assistant organist, up in the loft at the organ, with Rachel, the organ scholar, looking on. Both are candidates for masters degrees in performance at McGill. The video monitor shows the altar area so the organist/director can coordinate their timing to what is going on downstairs; the loft is at the back of the cathedral. Hilary will be getting married this summer and leaving for a job in England; her fiance, our former assistant organist, has been at St, Paul's Cathedral in London this year. Watching the development of talented young organists is one of the great pleasures of being in the choir. Another is being in the loft and able to watch brilliant organ-playing first-hand. We sing up here about 1/3 of the time, I think, whenever we're doing music that is accompanied.

On Easter, though, there are brass players in the loft and we sing from the back pews. On the left is Choir One: Trebles, and first (high) sopranos, altos, tenors and basses. On the right is Choir Two: second sopranos (that's me), second altos, second tenors, and the lowest-voiced basses. That's Ashley, our first tonor soloist, giving me the nice smile. In front of him is Dr. Elizabeth Rowlinson, faculty member at McGill and honorary assistant priest at the cathedral; she often presides at Evensong; beside her is Simon, our counter-tenor/first alto soloist.

And that's Patrick Wedd, our extraordinary organist and director of music. He's also a gifted composer, and gives concerts throughout Canada.

Here's Choir Two, seen from above. My section, the second sopranos, are in the top row; I went up into the loft during the sermon to take photos.

And here's the whole view. The majority of the time, we sing a capella (unaccompanied) from the front, either in the middle area behind the altar or in the baptistry, a chapel-like area you can't see here, to the right of the altar. This view makes the cathedral look a bit bigger than it really is, but I hope its beauty and airiness comes across. Come and visit, and hear the music too! (Click the image below to hear a sample.)

 

Open publication -

Sweetness

My friend Rachel Barenblat, the Velveteen Rabbi, was here this weekend to do two book tour events for 70 Faces: Torah Poems, one of which was a talk we did together at the cathedral yesterday after the service. It was a glorious day, and Mother's Day besides, so I was convinced few people would come - but I was wrong, and we had a good turnout of enthusiastic and interested participants. It had been a lot of work to put it all together (including planning and making one of those loaves-and fishes lunches for a group of undetermined size) but all went well. Afterward we went back to our apartment and out for a walk with coffee and pastries as our goal. It's Montreal, after all!

We ended up in front of the enticing display at Première Moisson on Blvd. Mont-Royal. Since there were three of us, we chose three different desserts: the whipped cream/cream puff/strawberry tower shown here; a small tart made like the famous Quebec sugar pie, but with maple sugar; and a slice of chocolate mousse cake with dark chocolate crust and a raspberry layer. And, of course, some strong coffee.

Several hundred calories later, we buzzingly stepped back outside.

It was wonderful to see Rachel in person. We've known each other for eight years online, and I've recently published her book, so there have been Skype video calls and lots and lots of emails, but we've only gotten together in person three times. We went back to the apartment, talked a lot, drank some red wine and ate some gravlax, and late in the evening went out to a neighborhood bistro for a very simple meal of burgers and salad, mussels and frites, and talked some more, all the way home.

This morning Rachel headed back to her home and family in southern New England, and we went back to our studio and a cat who needed some quality attention after being somewhat low on the totem pole this weekend.

I was hyper-aware, yesterday morning, of all the things we do and say during our formal Christian liturgy that must be strange or even offensive to Jews. Because I was hearing and seeing everything through a different lens than usual, it made me realize how much I'm usually on auto-pilot, NOT paying attention to such things, and also how -- it being right after Easter -- all the people in the lessons and in the sermon - including Jesus, of course - were Jews still practicing their faith in the same basic way as Rachel. Everything that is typically "Christian", from the stained glass and vaulted arches to the liturgies and creeds, has been added on over the centuries as the two commmunities diverged further and further. As I've often thought before, it's hardly a question of "what would Jesus do," but rather "what would he THINK?" And there was my friend, sitting next to me, singing the hymns, reciting the psalms, watching baptisms, and praying the prayers, but carefully leaving out any lines that she couldn't say with integrity and being enormously appreciative and respectful. Yet her religion is there, where we left Jesus and the disciples before Easter, and I'd never quite realized it so strongly before

As I think back over a very busy weekend, I'm appreciating many moments and many conversations. One of the best was essentially wordless, though: standing next to Rachel in the vast space of the cathedral, sharing a hymnbook and singing together for the first time. She has a lovely voice, which I knew, but I didn't know she used to sing in a Renaissance group. On the third hymns she dropped down to the alto part while I sang soprano. I relaxed then, and realized there was no need to be uncomfortable. We're real friends, and friends manage to find the common ground.

Happy Easter, Happy Spring (I hope!)

I'm away for a couple of days (and still recovering from last week's marathon) but wanted to post this picture of the "Easter garden" - a sign of hope for us up here in the north. I'm in the country right now, where the willows are golden and the red maples full of fat buds. I fell asleep last night listening to spring peepers in a nearby pond, which is a sure sign that nature is proceeding according to plan, even if there were snowflakes in the air a few days ago.

Back soon...

 

Rejoicing with Britten

Happy Easter Morning!

Our Evensong is a special one today, both for the sake of Easter and the sake of poetry. We're performing the cantata "Rejoice in the Lamb" by Benjamin Britten, set to texts by the brilliant and perhaps mad 16th century English poet, Christopher Smart along with some other terrific pieces. The postlude will be the La Resurrection du Christ by Olivier Messiaen.

Here's the whole program, hope you can join us on Radio Ville Marie for the live-streamed broadcast at 4:00 pm EST.

 

Easter Day 2011 Choral Evensong
The Cathedral Singers

Prelude: Sarabande for the Morning of Easter [Webster: listen], Herbert Howells (1892-1983) 

Introit: Jubilate in C [text/listen], Benjamin Britten (1913-76)

Preces and Responses: Paul Halley (b. 1952)

Psalm: 114, 150 (Tonus Peregrinus, Stanford)

Canticles: Chichester Service [Rochester: YouTube], William Walton (1902-83)

Anthem: Rejoice in the Lamb [text/listen]  Benjamin Britten

Postlude: La Résurrection du Christ from Le Livre du Saint-Sacrement [Latry: YouTube], Olivier Messiaen (1908-1992)