• Chant Matters – Compline at St Mark’s Cathedral, Seattle

    I’ve been to some interesting services in the last few weeks. None more so than going to Compline at St Mark’s Cathedral in Seattle recently.

    Now, Compline at St Mark’s is pretty famous. For over fifty years, a men’s choir have been singing Compline (which is a service of late night prayer) on a Sunday evening. It happens just about every week and is a very beautiful thing indeed. Imagine the King’s Singers with about 30 members and you are not wide of the mark. The service is broadcast on local radio in Seattle and has been since 1962 and is now available on the internet.

    The trouble is, gorgeous though the music is, and it is very gorgeous indeed, hearing it is no substitute for being there. For Compline at St Mark’s is one of the great spiritual experiences that this world offers not simply because of the music. You can, if you are minded, experience lovely choral music in lots of places. My own congregation offers Choral Evensong on a Sunday evening  and very wonderful it is too. There are lots of places which do the same. You can even find Compline in various degrees of gorgeousness in all kinds of other places. No, what makes it special at St Mark’s is the crowd.

    You see at St Mark’s, they get hundreds turning up. The service takes place at 9.30 pm and lasts half an hour. Most of the crowd are in place quite a while before the action begins. And those hundreds are young. The majority looked to me to be less than 25 and I’d guess that there were 500 there on Sunday evening, maybe more.

    Think about that. Five hundred people on a Sunday evening, mostly young. I know there are churches in the UK who can get those numbers but generally they are few and far between and generally speaking they are not offering Compline.

    They don’t just sit either. They sprawl. They lie down. Some bring blankets. They inhabit the sanctuary and lie flat on their backs. They loll.

    The only movement in the service comes at the Creed when everyone leaps up and stands as they are able facing liturgical East. As they rise it looks like a scene from a Stanley Spencer picture. The dead rise. They stand for the creed.

    Then they loll once more.

    I found myself thinking that I had never seen anything like it until I remembered that I had. It was all rather like that wonderful Weather Project that was in the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern a couple of years ago where they put mirrors on the ceiling and hung a large sun in the air. People laid on the floor there and gazed up to the mirrored heavens. Now though there were no mirrors, the Cathedral of St Mark, Seattle is rather reminiscent of the Turbine Hall at Tate M. Except that the cavernous Turbine Hall has a good deal more charm.

    St Mark’s looked to me to be as ugly as sin though it was considerably improved by scores of lolling, youthful bodies.

    That’s part of the puzzle about this Compline. Who are those young people and why do they come? No-one seemed to really know. They did not strike me as being people who generally attach themselves to any other form of organised religion.

    That service breaks almost (and that almost is important, as we shall see) rule in the How to Attract Young People Big Book of Church Growth.

    The building is as close to hideous as makes no odds.
    The choir sing from behind a pillar and can’t be seen.
    You don’t get a service sheet on the way in. You don’t in fact get anything.
    The service is uncompromisingly old fashioned.
    The service is based around Plainsong Chant.
    There are no guitars. Not one.
    It is unaccompanied by anything.
    You don’t get to do anything.
    You don’t sing.
    You don’t speak.
    You don’t engage.
    You don’t form community.

    And still they come. Hundreds of them. Every week they come.

    Of course, there is one rule that they don’t break – there is a sense of mystery and awe and wonder about the whole thing. And there is beauty.

    If I am coming to any conclusions about what churches need to develop in order to attract people, emphasising mystery, awe, wonder and above all beauty would be right up there high on the list.

    I’m still processing what I saw when I went to St Mark’s. I’ve also a lot to think about from other places that I’ve been, about which there will no doubt be more later.

    For now though, imagine 500 mostly young people sprawled out in church; in your church if you like, many lying around the altar.

    Who told them they could do that in St Mark’s?

    Who tells them they can’t everywhere else?

9 responses to “The Lament Question”

  1. kimberly Avatar

    ask it in the singular, and the answer is: because you’re a four.

    you’ll have me playing the funeral ikos next.

  2. kimberly Avatar

    the other answer is about possibility being revealed in limits.

  3. kelvin Avatar

    Its not just me though, and not just fours.

  4. Aaron Orear Avatar

    I think because sorrow touches the core of the human condition – we are mortal but can perceive immortality. “He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” (Eccl. 3:11)

  5. Erp Avatar
    Erp

    I understand Aristotle talks about catharsis and various philosophers have followed up on that idea.

    Perhaps it arouses sadness both from the art itself but also from our own sources festering within and allows us to let go. We feel better for the letting go, the lessening of our own internal sadness, and so perceive the art as beautiful.

  6. RosemaryHannah Avatar
    RosemaryHannah

    Kimberly was there before me. However, even I, a nine, can sometimes see the beauty in sad things. For me they do two things (may be more but two are most obvious). The first is the catharsis thing. The second is to make me less lonely. Look, here am I weeping, but all around me people sit in the same sorrow. It is not just my sorrow – I am not alone.

    I have long thought there is another answer, one I do not properly understand but I have (I think – and who am I to think it). Deep in God there is a huge well of sorrow. Unless we experience sorrow we cannot understand God. When we sorrow we tap into that well, and become closer to him.

    And being a nice cheerful nine, I will now add that I live in hope that having sorrowed with him, we will share also and even more fully in the joy which swallows the sorrow. Delete this last paragraph from your mind on reading, it will only spoil the joy of the sorrow.

  7. Elizabeth Avatar
    Elizabeth

    Edgar Allan Poe said the most beautiful thing in the world is a beautiful, dead woman. Nice, eh?

  8. Ritualist Robert Avatar
    Ritualist Robert

    Surely it’s because the concept of beauty is independent from concepts such as ‘sadness’ and ‘happiness’ – just as a G major chord might be loud or soft, but that volume has no effect on its G major-ness.

  9. Steve Avatar
    Steve

    I remember Augustine saying (don’t ask me where) that for a picture to be beautiful it requires dark colours as well as bright.

    There is also a hint of an answer in this poem by Edwin Muir:

    Yet still from Eden springs the root
    As clean as on the starting day.
    Time takes the foliage and the fruit
    And burns the archetypal leaf
    To shapes of terror and of grief
    Scattered along the winter way.
    But famished field and blackened tree
    Bear flowers in Eden never known.

    Blossoms of grief and charity
    Bloom in these darkened fields alone.
    What had Eden ever to say
    Of hope and faith and pity and love
    Until was buried all its day
    And memory found its treasure trove?
    Strange blessings never in Paradise
    Fall from these beclouded skies.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Previous Posts

  • Digging up the Road

    All of a sudden, life seems to have turned into the first chapter of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. By Good Friday, expect to see me spread-eagled in the road in front of a JCB. I have been aware for the last 48 hours that there were men digging up the road near to…

  • Wedding Pic

    Here is a pic of my sister's wedding. From the left, it is Mark, Louise, my nephews Alexander and Oliver and my niece Natalie.Or, from the left it is Mark, Louise, my nephews Oliver and Alexander and my niece Natalie.One or the other.

  • Monday in Holy Week

    There should be a special name for Monday in Holy Week – Apprehensive Monday would probably capture it well. There is much to do this week and the clock is ticking now.

  • Camera Lead

    Now, if I can just find the lead which connects the digital camera to the computer, I will be able to post a pic of Louise's wedding that I went to last week.  Check back later.