• 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?

4 responses to “The Privatization of Public Space and the Commonwealth Games”

  1. Christine McIntosh Avatar

    We were there yesterday as well – you should use Swarm and I might have known! But we left after the first gate for the same reasons as you’re complaining here – that feeling of being in school, or a prison, perhaps. Not a good move, Glasgow!

  2. Robin Avatar
    Robin

    > More troubling to me is that people on the Green were apparently being told to cover up YES badges indicating their support for Scottish Independence.

    What about people with NO badges? Or was no-one wearing one?!

    Seriously, a good post and I agree with it.

  3. Matthew Pemble Avatar
    Matthew Pemble

    I was not only frisked each way walking from Douglas St to “The Hub” (back of the Science Centre) but, on the way back when I was actually going to stop in the BBC’s carnival to buy some (in the end, over-priced and under-nice) lunch, the security weasel suggested that I might like to opt out of walking through a public right of way and go some 500m elsewhere so I wasn’t an inconvenience to her and her colleagues.

    A. She wasn’t a volunteer.
    B. The restriction of individual liberty is the first and most desired recourse of petty British officialdom.
    C. Unlike petty French officialdom, whose first and most desires recourse is Madam Guillotine.

  4. Alan McManus Avatar

    After a PR blunder involving a local Guru of ethnic minority (technically the majority) Herod was anxious to be seen to be benevolent. “5K” had a historical precedent; the concept was simple, marketable and had obvious corporate tie-ins with opportunities for merchandising. The Vizier sourced another Guru, a cousin of the dead one but with better ratings and demographics (and a lot more camera-friendly). Generic ads (CARING/ SHARING/ WEALTH CREATION) went viral on social media, the venue was booked and tickets (£15) sold online.
    Jesus proved difficult from the start. He wanted it free and couldn’t see the need to fence the Table. He couldn’t even see the need for the Table. “Okay” said the Vizier (whose eyes kept glazing over as Security patched in on his Link-Up) “we love you, we love the robes and sandals, we love the concept – yeah? Let’s just keep the synergy flowing and focus on half-full, blue skies – sorry – Mike? Yeah PR here, how’s that bulldozing going? Yeah? Flat. And can you schmooze the protesters off-camera? Yeah. We’ll need the whole space for carparking. Sorry – so, Jesus, right? Cool. Just some Health & Safety details to go over:
    • Bread ‘n Fishes shrinkwrapped 5K pax must remain in the corporate cooler till distribution by authorised personnel only – all in Hi Viz.
    • No healing or blessing, it’s just too big a crowd and we don’t want a crush at the barriers (also healing kinda spins our plucky human interest stories outta line).
    Your slot is 3 mins max, Jesus, we’ve drafted your mission statement, here. Any vocab issues? We want the tone local, down with the Palestinian people, not too obviously Roman. Let’s just go over it:
    1. Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s (we don’t do God)
    2. Yes you can! (can you avoid the whole structural poverty rant? it comes across as patronising and we want to emphasise equal opportunity)
    3. The parable of the talents (just as it is)
    Cool.”
    Everything went smoothly on the day. The whole area had been cleared of undesirables and Herod’s helicopters, horseguards and hounds kept the peace in the huge crowd packed between the steel barriers, happily clutching their tokens for Bread ‘n Fishes; tasteful woven willow miniature food baskets (blessed ones £5 extra) and leaflets for voluntourism. Alternating muzak and plucky soundbites on the massive LED screens kept the crowd amused while they waited for the main act.
    Which never came. Jesus had slipped through the crowds and walked away.

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