Sewanee Conference: Further reflections

Tuesday

There are, no doubt, some who think that the Mozarabic Preface is a bit much for a ferial Eucharist in the Season after Pentecost. They are, however, incorrect. And, more to the point, they are not celebrating the Eucharist in the Chapel of the Apostles today.

The celebrant has remembered to put on his black shoes. He will maintain an unblemished record of black-shoe-wearing throughout the week, for the first time ever.

Wednesday

The Conference celebrates Solemn Eucharist, Rite One, with the propers For the Departed. The celebrant (who, to be fair, has been an Episcopalian for only forty years) mangles the Summary of the Law. The first performance of Malcolm Archer's setting of "Faire is the Heaven" (beginning at 29:39) is beautifully sung. The thurifer, sacristan, and crucifer are all highly competent, flexible, and delightful. The person who runs the sound board and keeps me from having to keep turning my microphone on and off -- microphones are, of course, an engine of Satan -- is spot-on from start to finish.

Thursday

Malcolm Archer: "Remember: descants are a decoration, not an obliteration."

Friday

I awake at 9:45. Morning Prayer began at 9:00. I think I might have missed it.

I take advantage of the late start to have my traditional Waffle House breakfast in Monteagle (in accordance with the prophecy), missing a rehearsal altogether. (It's fine. Rehearsal is for Evensong, and I'm not singing with the choir.) Then I head down to Tullahoma to print the page proofs of Anselm: A Very Short Introduction, which arrived overnight. Thanks, OUP. I totally didn't want to enjoy the Sewanee Conference without needing to read page proofs.

Across the street from the print shop is a coffee-shop-slash-church. "A little bit of coffee, a whole lot of Jesus" is the slogan.

Unfortunately, they're closed, so I can't get any coffee. Jesus, of course, is supplied anyway with his accustomed abundance.

Given the rather dicey experience of my last few years, it's probably not surprising that I am reduced to helpless sobbing when we rehearse the concluding hymn: "Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?"

I did manage to keep myself together for the actual service.

Solemn Choral Evensong is offered with an exceptionally fine choir. (I'll post a link to Evensong when it's available.) I attend the barbecue afterward absolutely reeking of incense.

Where there's smoke, there's prayer.