Sometimes it causes me to tremble

Oh Internet how I've been neglecting you. Let's blame it on my spyware-infected computer, shall we?  Somewhere on this site I believe I have called the death penalty "vile", but let's amend that to "vile except in the cases of the people responsible for unleashing the unholy hell of viruses and spyware into beautiful internet-land, including the reprobates who thought up the Elite Bar, which somehow hijacked my beloved Google toolbar and replaced it with shortcut buttons to online dating sites."

Work sucks, the house hunt sucks, and we have to figure out how to get rid of a 14-year-old thrice-stolen minivan tomorrow. So let's talk about something that doesn't suck, namely the choir at St. James Cathedral in downtown Seattle.

I don't like cathedrals. They are big and scary and overwhelm me with their massiveness. Not to say I don't appreciate the architecture and art, but attend actual Mass inside one of those things?  No thanks. The cathedral in Seattle doesn't compare to, oh, St. Peter's, but it's similar to the church I attended as a frightened 10-year-old in Messina (and in Italy, ALL the churches could be American cathedrals). I say frightened because there were some mean looking nuns at that church and I SWEAR they were giving me the stink eye the entire time because my brothers and sisters and I were not sitting up front with the rest of the children where the nuns could lay the smackdown were we to twitch in our hard cold seats. Obviously, I am not over the experience.

ANYWAY, I tend to stay away from the cathedral, except on Good Friday when Phillip likes to head down there for the Good Friday service. Phillip actually likes the massiveness. For him, it symbolizes the majestic . But, Internet, that is not why he likes the cathedral's Good Friday service.  No, it's because every Good Friday some dude in the choir with a deeeeeeep voice starts singing about "where you there when they crucified my Lord?" and did we "tremble tremble tremble" and PHILLIP LOVES THIS GUY. And then after Mass, Phillip cannot stop singing about "were you there" and did it cause you to tremble and Internet, this is why merely walking into the cathedral occasionally gives me the giggles. In fact, Phillip haIs only to look at me, his chin slightly tucked, his eyebrows lifted, his mouth open in an operatic O, and I will start laughing. This is not proper cathedral behavior.

In short: the cathedral?  Huge, overwhelming, associated with depressing Lenten season and with small amounts of extremely inappropriate laughter.

It's not Good Friday yet, but we're sponsoring Future Catholics this year and are therefore obligated to attend all the services, especially the ones we didn't even know about.  It's this kind of thing that makes us excellent sponsor material.  So this Wednesday we attended the Chrism Mass at the cathedral. The Chrism Mass is where the priest blesses the oil to be used for the sacraments of baptism and confirmation at the Easter Vigil. At least, that's as much as I was able to get out of Sister who runs our gig at church and talks a tangenty mile a minute in an Irish accent. I also know  that we' were to wear our Sunday best. Although when Sister says it it comes out "Whirrr yer SUNdy BESST!" (The young people in our group? We've got some stylish denim going on, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't qualify. Also, the fact that you've been going to church since you were old enough to sit up and your forearm has the scars from your mother's fingernails to prove it does NOT mean that you had any idea that such a thing as the Chrism Mass even existed. Who let us be sponsors anyway?)

And I didn't really want to go. I mean, we've been going to church A LOT and I think we've enabled more than enough pagan babies to get themselves out of Limbo, don't you think?  Totally. Also, driving downtown at rush hour is stressful to the nth degree, not to mention finding a place to park. Is there a patron saint of parking spaces? So, we just weren't in the holiest of moods upon getting ourselves into church, something that didn't make it easier when we opened the front door to find a mass of men in white vestments giving us the stink eye because they were about to start the PROCESSION and could we PLEASE use the SIDE DOOR? (Dear Priests and Nuns: The stink eye? I am so over it.)

I missed the whole procession because I noticed that the fourth grade girl in front of me was wearing the shoes I bought myself last week at Nordstrom. What does this mean? It can't be good.

But the choir... They stood directly behind us and were accompanied by a loud insistent organ. It was deafening and intimidating and so very very beautiful. Phillip whispered, "This is why I like the cathedral" and I finally understood. My touchy feely church in the neighborhood does not convey the majesty of God like the cathedral, like the full and glorious voices of the cathedral choir. The song sung during Communion began so softly I wondered how it was possible. Then the voices fanned out into their parts, the organ swelled, the sopranos hit the high notes without breaking glass, the bass voices supporting the entire sound. It was like the choir knew it was the one thing that could fill the great vertical space.

It's late now.  If I can hack in to Typepad tomorrow I'll try and update with some links. Who knows where Messina is, anyway, right?  Maybe some punctuation too, if you're lucky. But I'm tired and all my energy is funding the part of my brain that figures out how to get out of reformatting a spyware-infected hard drive.

Comments

[Young]

Hey Maggie,

I liked the description of Phillip -- it made me "giggle" too. Hope all is well in Seattle --

-young