Paris

Paris. Often visited before. This time trying to reveal its pleasures to a friend new to Paris. So we do the tourist things, but I try to find something new, even in the well-known places. It is good having a hotel in a residential area, watching mothers bringing their children to maternity and elementary school early in the morning, the children wrapped up in hats and scarves and warm coats, each with their own backpack. Amazing that everybody comes on foot, not by car. After delivering their kids safely to their carers and teachers, the young mothers and fathers do some shopping in the small supermarket opposite and go either back home or to their respective jobs. I enjoy the happy chatter and noise of the children down my window, the starting of scooters and mopeds, useful means of transport as they can be easily parked anywhere.

Crib in the Church of the Dome

Crib in the Notre Dame

Churches and the aftermath of Christmas: Every church still has a crib, probably till February 2^nd, Candlemas, the presentation of the Christ child in the Temple and the end of the Christmas period. In the streets of Paris the stalls of the many Christmas Fairs are being broken down and removed, a rather sad sight. But there are still illuminations everywhere.

Crib in the St. Pierre Montmartre

It is great to notice that the famous churches, the Notre Dame and the Sacre Coeur, are not just tourist attractions but still places of worship. After a morning Eucharist my friend and I walk around the magnificent church. When we are at the back of the choir, in the ambulatory, we hear this heavenly music, sung by female voices. We think it is a recording, one of those with Gregorian chants often heard in churches and cathedrals. When eventually we can see into the choir again, we discover 12 nuns in the stalls, singing the office of the hour. It is noon. Do they sing the Sext? One nun is playing the zither and accompanying them. It is as if angels have descended from heaven. Their voices send shivers down my spine and take my breath away, so pure and ethereal is their chanting. Completely covered in white flowing robes, except for a black veil, they seem to be the angel choir which has come down from heaven. It reminded me of the Singing Nun, Soeur Sourire, who in the sixties made a name for herself with her pure voice.

Different view of the nave of the Notre Dame with a large carpet on the floor, woven in 1830

Notre Dame

Of course the Saint Chapelle, no longer used as such, is another must, a highlight every time I go. The vibrant colours of the stained glass windows and the painted walls, columns and vaults ar unbelievably beautiful. No iconoclasm here fortunately!

Sainte Chapelle Paris

Next to the Sacre Coeur is the church of St. Pierre, older by far than the Sacre Coeur and a haven of peace among this tourist part of Paris, Montmartre and Place du Tertre with its fake bohemian atmosphere and artists, and the excorbitant prices in the adjoining cafes. It is an ancient church, well kept, a place for prayer and reflection. No noise from the bustling streets penetrates the ancient walls of this serene church.

 

St. Pierre Montmartre

The mad drive down to Pigalle in a minibus, a kind of shuttle, through the narrow and steep cobbled streets is a first and a godsend for my companion. We have to hold tight not to be thrown through the bus. But we arrive safely down, in a fraction of the time it took us to walk up the “Mont”.

Seeing the Eiffel Tower through the Peace monument, a glass monument with the word Peace written or edged in 32 languages and 12 different alphabets, is a new experience and a moving surprise. This Wall for Peace at the end of the Champs de Mars and in front of the Military Academy is not mentioned in any of my guide books! Is was built for the Millennium, so has been there for a considerable number of years.

 The Dôme des Invalides is not far from here, so we pay Napoleon a visit. What is more interesting is the church at the back of the Dôme and connected with it, although not accessible from the Dôme for us tourists. Here too is a crib. It is a modest church, rather plain compared to many other churches in Paris, but light. We leave it via the courtyard, lined with canons, their mouths forever empty.

And there is another first, a ride on the Ferris Wheel on the Place de la Concorde in the dusk. It is rather scary to look down, but the view down the Champs Elysees, its trees still decorated with blue Christmas light, is amazing. We go round three times, enough to get a good view in all directions. That it is dark makes it all the more interesting, seeing the big boulevards as paths of light, the red tail light of the many cars as slightly undulating serpentines, as well as the illuminated Eiffel tower. Taking pictures through the glass of our capsules or the slits in the metal framework isn’t easy, but the views are imprinted on my brain.

The Lady and the Unicorn

I can never resist the Musée de Cluny, le Musée du Moyen Age. Apart from the beautiful and very modern looking medieval carved wooden statues and miniature ivory sculptures, what always attracts me most are the Flemish tapestries of the Lady and the Unicorn, representing the 7 senses, although what the 7^th really is, is not very clear. Especially the one of the lady playing a portative, a small portable pipe organ, allures me: the unicorn, the symbol of chastity and purity, and the pipe organ, the music, hearing and sound. The colours, still vibrant and bright are absolutely amazing.

Besides the museum houses a set of beautifully carved oak choir stalls from Blois, France. Formerly taking pictures in the Museum was not allowed, and I had no chance to extend my collection of misericords. But the ban has been lifted, so I had a go at photographing quite a few interesting ones.

In the streets of Paris the stalls of the many Christmas Fairs are being broken down and removed, a rather sad sight. But there are still illuminations everywhere.

Then there is the abundance of concerts, although the beginning of January, after a very rich and busy Christmas time, isn’t the best time of the year music wise. However, the concert in the Théâtre des Champs Elysées is wonderful. An all Tshaichovsky programme with the Philharmonia Orchester and Vladimir Ashkenazy as conductor,  its main attraction is the concert for violin, with Vadim Repin as soloist. It has attracted a full house, and we only managed to get two tickets on one of the balconies at the far end of a row on the left. So we only see half the orchestra. Fortunately, with a lot of neck craning and using our upturned seats as misericords, we manage to see both the violinist and the conductor, a sight not to be missed. The audience is spellbound and absolutely quiet: no coughing or sneezing. Although our seats are not very comfortable and we are extremely hot being under a low overhanging upper balcony, it is all worth it. The introduction, the suite Romea and Juliet and Symphony nr. 4 after the interval, are an extra. If the violin concerto had been the only music performed that evening, I would have been just as happy. Still, we get an encore as the audience applauds for minutes on end.

Repin

Another concert, totally different, is a performance of Mozarts Requiem in the Church of St. Germain des Prés, on the well-known boulevard. During the day the interior of the former Abbey church looks dark and dirty. In the stage lights I see that every inch of wall and every pillar is painted in beautiful colours. Blue, red and gold being the main colours, and the ceiling blue and sprinkled with golden stars, as I have seen in various other churches. In spite of the poor organisation – we have to wait outside until 5 minutes before the start of the concert, which begins half an hour late – the atmosphere is magical. In fact the first part of the concert, a violin concerto by J.S.Bach, is the best part. The violin is pure and because of the acoustics the wonderful sound sings through the church. The choir singing the Requiem is far too big and the sound becomes mere noise, probably because of the acoustics and the position of the choir. It seems the sounds mingle, circle, mix and there is no clear melody any more. However, attending a concert in this church is special. 

Eglise de St. Germain des Pres

After the concert I have wine and cheese in a cafe opposite. Not at Les Deux Magots, the famous cafe and the haunt of Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir after whom this square was named, but at a cafe with another well-known name, Napoleon. Here they serve more than just champagne at this hour of the night. And it is full and warm and cosy inside. The trees in the square are still decorated with Christmas lights. Over the floodlit church tower I see the moon.

When I cross the river Seine on my way home, the Eiffel tower shoots a shower of stars up its tower, something it does every hour on the hour. It is midnight, my birthday has begun! Even the Eiffel tower seems to celebrate this memorable day.

 

Haarlem revisited

January 2nd 2014

When I have visitors, I try to show them the towns, museums, and places which I enjoy, hoping that they will too. Today it was Haarlem. As usual in this perpetual and never ending autumn it poured. But if we wait in this country till the rain stops, we will never get anywhere. So Haarlem it was.

Our first stop was a delightful teashop, Babette’s, reminding me of Babette’s Feast, that well-known movie. Lovely cakes, a motley selection of English plates, teacups and teapots, wonderful selections of teas and a very generous and friendly hostess. Babette is English and started this shop /cafe 8 months ago. I went there when it had just been opened, and liked it very much indeed. Her cheesecake with raspberries was indeed delicious! It helped us to brave the rain again, and set foot towards Corrie ten Boom’s house, now a museum. It is just an old Dutch house, with a double wall behind which Jewish people could hide and did hide from the Nazi’s. Dreadfully cramped, dark and claustrophobic. Corrie’s life story and that of her family is well known, but perhaps people from the States can’t imagine what the conditions in Holland were during the war, or what this house – and many Dutch houses - looked like before and during the war. My friend was most impressed. As a child she had helped her mother sending clothes to Holland. We were in need of many basic things, which now seems unimaginable. The guide, a Finnish lady who grew up in Holland during the war, was very helpful and knowledgeable, which was a plus.

The false wall behind which the Jews were hidden 

Climbing so many narrow stairs was a tiring business so we badly needed to sit down for a light lunch. That sitting down lasted longer than expected as many people milled around. It is holiday time and the sales are on, a bad combination. But the food was worth it once it came.

We then went to see the St. Bavo, the central church in the Market Square. I sing there regularly with a choir, but that is always at the end of the day when the light is generally poor. By now the rain had stopped and the sun came out which bathed the whole church in a beautiful light. It was empty of chairs as a winter show was being built up. It meant the choir was closed to us, but it gave us an uninterrupted view across the nave to the big and famous Müller organ, which Mozart played once. Many pictures later – I couldn’t resist taking pictures again - we emerged, into the sun this time!

 Beatifully carved railings around the choir, and some paintings on the pillars at the back of the choir

 The pipe organ: some details

Our next stop was the Frans Hals Museum. Not that there was a special exhibition, but I love the building itself as it is old and the original rooms and features are still intact. Like the Mauritshuis in The Hague it is intimate and in a way homely.  Of course the paintings are impressive, but I think my guest was even more impressed by the beautiful dolls’ house, a house in miniature with exact replicas of everything one would find in a home of a well-to-do Dutch family at that time. A silversmith had made small silverware on scale, furniture too was made exactly as it was in real life. It wasn’t something children were supposed to play with, but a house to be shown to visitors and friends. A showpiece. And a showpiece it still is. There is another dolls’ house in the Gemeente Museum in The Hague which I like very much. The audio guide was a great help for my friend, who isn’t well versed in Dutch art. I enjoyed its comments too, the Dutch version that is. So now I still don’t know what a Schutterij is in English, but I presume it is a guild of civilian guards.

 Frans Hals Museum: the former dining hall

Cabinet organ, a little bit more modest than the Muller organ! 

By the time we had done the rounds, it was 5 o’clock and closing time.

Haarlem has many small, independent specialist shops which I love. Cook shops, camera shops with shop assistants who know what they are talking about, boutiques and bookshops, not to mention several other museums, interesting architecture, hidden almshouses and many picturesque canals and alleys. I couldn’t resist browsing the shops but once home I felt virtuous because I had resisted the temptation to buy anything at all. It was a well-spent day.

A display in the Frans Hals Museum. An imitation of the tables in Frans Hals' paintings

Haarlem by day and in the evning with Christmas lights

New Year’s Eve 2013

New Year’s Eve, an evening, night and early morning I guess, with many memories and ever changing traditions within a general pattern which has remained the same throughout my life: fireworks, the burning of Christmas trees which evolved into the burning of anything youngsters could lay their hands on from car tyres, wooden pallets, to whatever... Especially some inner cities are notorious for the vandalism on that particular night. So are some rural villages which normally offer little excitement for young people. Traditional throughout my life have been the “oliebollen” and “appelflappen”, covered in white powdery sugar. The oliebollen, deep fried currant buns, round balls, sponges of grease, always made me sick. Once during my student days combined with a glass of champagne they made me horribly sick. Isn’t alcohol supposed to neutralise fat? If so, it doesn’t happen without a fight, or rather a fierce battle within one’s body.

As a child there was church, a gloomy protestant service when all the deceased of the past year were named and we were reminded of our sins. And of the vulnerability of our lives. Isaiah 40- 6-8 was read:

...All mankind is grass, they last no longer than a flower of the field.

The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon them:

The grass withers, the flowers fade, but the Word of our God endures for evermore.

(New English Bible) At least the end of the quotation offered hope, but the withering and dying depressed me most of all. Meanwhile the aroma of oliebollen and deep fried food wafted from clothes and hats and the hair of the repentant churchgoers. Did they really repent, or were they thinking of the coming feast, the abundance of deep fried currant buns? They were on every table, replacing the usual meals.

Later in life, I would celebrate with friends, and even later with my husband and his family. No church. The church I then belonged to kept to the liturgical year and did not see New Year’s Eve as a feast in the church calendar.

Then there came the time that I had to do without a husband. But there were parents and later just my father. He would stay at my house, or I would go and  stay with him. And now, things have changed again. But throughout all those years there were the deep fried delicacies, covered in snowy white sugar, something nice to look at, but never the cause of my expanding waistline.

As a child, New Year’s Day was the day for visiting relatives and perhaps friends, to wish them a happy New Year. Uncles and aunts would all gather at my grandmother’s house and large plates of oliebollen would be on the table. The same happened at the house of my other grandparents. It wouldn’t do to start the New Year hungry. Some people made literally bucketfuls of the “delicacy”.

Again, many years later, two or three of my neighbours would get together and bake oliebollen for everybody in our street, by the bucket. Around five in the afternoon we would flock to the open garage door and test the result of their efforts, washing the still warm oliebollen down with mulled wine, brewed by the women. That tradition lasted for years and years, till the children who grew up here, had their own families and would invite their parents to their homes and do the honours. That was the end of the street gatherings, except after midnight when in one of the houses there still is a far more civilized buffet of smoked salmon and cheese and biscuits, washed down with champagne.

So traditions have come and gone, everything changes, except for the oliebollen. And what also remains, are the fireworks, including the pyromania. And eye injuries, even resulting in permanent blindness.

This year an American friend is staying with me . Her impression of our New Year’s Eve celebrations – sent to friends back in Minnesota – are worth reading. They made me look at our customs with other eyes. (I edited it slightly in places) 

The Dutch really know how to do a New Years bash!  The big item in the celebration is fireworks. They can be legally blown off for about 24 hours. They are illegally blown off for about 3 days prior.  It goes on to be such a performance that they have to seal up the neighbourhood mailboxes ( where you can mail your letters) so that the kids don’t put firecrackers in them to blow them up!

So for the past days there have been firecrackers and rockets going off intermittently day and night, increasing in intensity until last night.
Last night we were invited to a party at the home of friends from my friend’s  church. There were about 20 people there. It started about 9 pm. Buffet style salads, dips, fish, cheese, wine, soda, juice. About 10:30 there was wine & cheese. Then at midnight there was champagne. They had mild fireworks for the kids ( two grade schoolers and several older boys, students) -- just firecrackers, sparklers, poppers, and some that you throw at the ground to make them pop. The sounds coming from other areas were incredible-- it sounded like artillery from all directions, coming from private fireworks and displays done in nearby towns. Later there was ice cream, sweets, cookie- type things. 

The group was mostly aged between 50-75 with sons of the host family and a woman with two children. All spoke English, Dutch, and other. Most had some British connection. (The church is English speaking Anglican, primarily people from the international community at The Hague and surrounding area.)  We got home about 2am.
Traditional foods sold at this time: oliebollen and appelflappen

Oliebollen are balls of sweet dough with raisins, currents which are deep fried--a bit like large donut holes.

Appelflappen are like a bismark but with an apple filling. 

They sell them everywhere ( grocery stores, stands in the street, at a stand outside the Garden Centre) but only at this time of the year. 

 The traditions continue today with a leisurely day ( that started about 10am! ) watching the Vienna Philharmonic live concert and then a skiing competition (the well-known one in Garmisch Partenkirchen in Germany). . ...

Apparently for her the fireworks were the most impressive and unusual part of our New Year’s Eve traditions. I must admit that at the party there were no oliebollen nor appelflappen, due to the international character of the partygoers as well as the nationalities of our host and hostess.

H A P P Y   N E W  Y E A R !!!

 .

Lessons and Carols 2.

So many services of Lessons and Carols. Last Saturday we sang in the Lutheran Church in Arnhem, an inner city church where quite a lot is done for the homeless, for refugees and for drug addicts. It is a big church and it was freezing cold inside, at least in the room where we had to robe, and in the corridors. The church wasn’t too bad, and they tried to warm us with hot coffee, nice rolls and fruit. The church is unusual with choir stalls in a semicircle against the back of the church. However, because there was a rather ugly stable in the process of construction, waiting for the ox and ass, Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus, the stalls were obscured and couldn’t be used, so we sat rather exposed on chairs in front of the congregation. There is a new organ, placed in the nave in front of the old organ which is still up on the gallery, lurking in the dark shadows. It looked a bit odd to me. Is it too expensive to remove the old organ? 

Arnhem, The new organ. You can just get a glimpse of the old one up on the gallery

Rheden last night was totally different. We sang in the old village church, warm and friendly. Our choir was only small, but we and the congregation really enjoyed the singing and the service. When I drove to Rheden, the moon rose above the horizon, a big, full moon, orange, as if there was a light shining inside, or a fire burning. At first I thought it was a hot air balloon as it was so large! It looked rather magical, especially over the river IJssel. After the service, later in the evening, the moon was higher in the sky and therefore smaller and no longer coloured orange, but exactly over the attractive church tower which was bathing in warm flood light. 

Above: the village church of Rheden, exterior and interior, and the nice organ front.

CAROL SERVICE, RHEDEN, 18^TH DECEMBER 2013, 8 P.M.

*          Once in Royal David's City             

            verse 1 solo, verse 2, 3, 4, 6 (descant)                                                

Bidding Prayer 

*          Adam lay ybounden – Howard Skempton (choir, CfCV 2)

*          Ding dong merrily        GCB 28 

First Lesson

*          Remember, O thou man – Thomas Ravenscroft (choir, AfC 170)

*          God rest you merry, gentlemen            GCB 29 + descant

            1 all, 2 choir, 3 men, 4 ladies, 5 all 

Second Lesson

*          Creator of the Stars of Night – Malcolm Archer (choir, AfC56) 

Third Lesson

*          O little town of Bethlehem       GCB 92 + descant Hopper 10 

Fourth lesson

*          There is no rose – Howard Skempton (choir, CfCV 192) 

Fifth Lesson

*          NEH 10 – Long ago, prophets knew             

*          Small wonder the star – Paul Edwards (choir) 

Sixth Lesson

*          See amid the winter’s snow     CfCV 150

            3 choir, 4 men, 5 ladies

*          My Lord has come – Will Todd (choir, CfCV 105) 

Seventh Lesson

*          The First Nowell          GCB 126 + descant, vs 1, 2, 3, 5, 6

*          In the bleak mid-winter – Harold Darke (choir) 

Eighth Lesson

*          We three kings                  

*          New Year Carol – John Rutter (CfCV 108) 

Ninth Lesson

*          O come all ye faithful              GCB 88 + descant Hopper 11

            vs 1, 2, 6 + descant, 7 + descant 

Prayers

Blessing 

*          Hark the Herald Angels sing    GCB 39 + Ledger descant

Butterfly

Lessons and Carols. A church overflowing with people, flowers and burning candles. A dark light. The choir robed and singing. All of a sudden there is this butterfly, dancing, pirouetting, distracting the clergy. It swings through the choir, the warmest and brightest part of the church, restless. All of a sudden it lands on my music which I am singing from. Snow in Winter.. covering the words. It spreads its beautiful wings. A peacock, I now see. Perfectly still it sits there through part of our anthem completely covering my music. Fortunately I know it quite well. But I can hardly sing. It seems such a miracle. Is it a sign from above or has it just been disturbed in its hibernation by the temperature in the church and the music? After some minutes it takes off, continuing its circular dance. It doesn’t land anywhere else, and I am sad to see it go. 

Assen and the Dead Sea Scrolls

In between all the singing, concerts and Advent services I took the train to Assen in Drenthe to see an exhibition of and about the Dead Sea Scrolls. It was a cold morning, with a freezing fog, which gradually dissolved into a slight haze, the sun trying hard to break through. At first the fields and rooftops of the houses we passed, were covered with a fine layer of hoar frost, which gave everything a wintery but also festive appearance. At this time of year the sun throws long and elongated shadows across the land, like caricatures. This morning the shadows of poplars and willows lining the many ditches and separate fields were not black or dark as usual, but white silhouettes painted on the green fields which had already been warmed by the sun.  It looked very peaceful and Christmassy.

Nowadays there is a direct train connection to Assen, which took me there in just under 2.5 hours. The train traverses the Flevopolder which is littered with rows and rows of modern windmills, today standing motionless, their three wings waiting in vain for a slight breeze. There was no wind whatsoever all day long, so the only thing those mills achieved was ruining the view and spoiling the landscape. With their extended arms they looked like a corps de ballet, frozen in the same position waiting for the music to begin.

In another part of the Flevopolder, a large piece of land reclaimed from the former Zuiderzee, it was clear that the man-made nature reserve, the Oostvaardersplassen,  is vastly overpopulated. Trying to warm themselves in the early morning sun were large herds of horses and deer, and not just one or two herds, but quite a lot in a very bare landscape. It could have been Russia or the prairies we were passing through, except for the temperature. Why we ever introduced them there, I don’t understand. It was meant to be a bird sanctuary. And now those animals are protected and there are just far too many. The land can’t feed them all, and they have killed off the trees looking for food. It looked as if a battle had taken place, like the woods near our house when I was a child. During the war all the trees had been used for fuel, and the former woods were a total wilderness. But fortunately they were replanted and they aren’t vandalised by herds of animals which surely never lived at this former bottom of the sea.

The former chapel of the nuns which is now part of the Museum 

In Assen it was cold, just above zero, but the bright sunshine made the centre look very attractive. The Museum is housed in a former nunnery, which since long has had various functions. The interior is worth a visit. This was the first time that I used the entrance of the newly built and very modern extension, partly hidden underground with an amazing garden on top forming steep hills. The main expositions are now in this modern extension. This time a few pages or scraps of the Dead Sea Scrolls were on view. I admire the way the (art) historians and other experts had managed to make this a very interesting exhibition. There was a lot of information about the history of the Middle East and of Palestine and Qumran where the scrolls were found in the 20^th century, everything so intricately linked to the history of the Jewish people. Nowadays exhibitions can be extremely interesting with the use of modern techniques: video’s on the main walls, re-enactments of battles, a clear timeline and information about all the peoples and rulers who had lived in and/or conquered that corner of the world. It was too much to take in in one visit, so for once I made an exception to my own imposed rule and bought the catalogue. The texts on the scraps of parchment, papyrus and leather were translated into Dutch and English. It is amazing to me that scholars have been able to decipher those remnants of scrolls, and pieced them together.

The three religions which all recognise Abraham as their forefather, were also represented: the Jewish faith, the Islam and Christianity. Texts which are similar in the Holy books of those three religions were quoted and juxtaposed. And there were interviews – on video – with modern believers of each of those three religions, all of them women representing three different stages in life. They explained what their faith meant to them in their daily lives.

There was another room where the techniques of writing were explained, of making vellum and parchment and papyrus, and even of making a copper scroll! Amazing that some of the texts on the pieces of scroll were still so clear that it seemed they were written only yesterday. Other letters had almost completely faded, apparently depending mainly on the type of ink used.

 The beautifully decorated entrance hall of the old part of the museum

 

A hall in the museum which was once used by the governors of Drenthe

Assen’s town centre was buzzing as people were shopping for December 5^th, St. Nicolas, the traditional day in Holland for giving presents. But after the sun set colouring the sky a deep red, it quickly grew dark and cold, so time to take the train back home.

Talking about meetings. Here too, and not only when travelling abroad, I had an interesting meeting. Two women whom I thought were about my age were sitting in the same compartment. During their conversation it became clear that they had both been students at Leiden University, the woman opposite having read the same subject as I had! She was also a member of one of the choirs of my organist friend and former organ teacher, wrote children’s stories which she said might be too naive for this day and age and modern children, and she hated golf! There was a rapport, although she thought I was at least 10 years younger than she was. Which wasn’t the case. Sometimes it is nice to be flattered. Time passes quickly when meeting interesting people. And so we were back at our destination before realising it. A day well-spent, topped up by “The Painted Veil”, for once a very interesting film on the TV. 

The first Sunday of Advent

The first Sunday of Advent, always a Sunday full of joy and expectation. I lit the first candle on my Advent wreath, bought at the Christmas Fair yesterday in our church. A Fair full of interesting things, crafts of a very high standard, homemade cakes and everything with cranberry: cranberry chutneys, cranberry jelly, cranberry granola etc. All beautifully packed in cute glass jars, very festive indeed. I couldn’t stay long for I had the privilege to be invited to sing at a very special service in The Hague of the Order of St. Lazarus. Which was a joy and a unique experience indeed. An investiture service, which was most interesting.

The Advent Procession with Lessons and Carols was inspiring and meaningful, as every year. I am a guest singer in that particular choir, so always a bit nervous as I do not attend the rehearsals on a regular basis.  But it is great to be included in this worship, even although I do not like processing into a dark church with a lit candle. There is the possibility of setting someone’s hair on fire or a choir robe, mundane thoughts during an Advent Carol Service. Once that part it over, I can give all of my attention to the music and the meaning of it all, the promise of the Christ child, a mystery.

Year after year we sing the same Introit, the Matin Responsory by Palestrina. And every time it moves me again. Standing at the back of the darkened church, hearing the cantor sing

 I look from afar and lo, I see the power of God coming, and a cloud covering the whole earth. Go ye out to meet Him and say

and the choir answering:

Tell us, art Thou he that should come to reign over Thy people Israel, ...

sends shivers down my spine. It has a beauty which is in such contrast with what we see around us at this time of year, materialism. As if Christmas is just a time for luxury, for presents, expensive and exotic food and party clothes. No, Christmas, the birth of this child, is a mystery, and it inspires us with hope. It gives meaning to our existence, and radiance.  That is particularly comforting at this dark time of year, when the nights are a lot longer than the hours of daylight. And so we light candles, to lighten not only our houses, but also to warm our hearts.

The Vesper Responsory almost at the end of the service never fails to move me either, both with its beautiful chant and its words:

Cantor:        Judah and Jerusalem, fear not, nor be dismayed

Choir:          Tomorrow go ye forth, and the Lord, He will be with you

Cantor:        Stand still and ye will see the salvation of the Lord

Here is our contribution to the service:

-Matin Responsory , followed by Come Thou Redeemer...

- Advent wreath prayer  

- O come, o come Emmanuel

- Advent Prose

- Remember, O Thou Man

Hymn NEH 15

- How lovely are the messengers  (Mendelssohn)

Hymn NEH 12

- There is no rose (Near)

Hymn NEH 7

- The Angel Gabriel

- Ave Maria - Archer

Hymn NEH 10

- Lo! He comes

- Creator of the stars of Night  

- Vesper Responsory

Hymn NEH 30 – O Come all ye faithful