Teachable Moments

London Chronicles #13: Loose in St. Paul’s Cathedral

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Dec 122012

After the service, I expected to be hustled out of the Cathedral. It is, after all, a sacred space and a functioning tourist attraction. Instead, we had free reign to stand inside the main dome, take a few pictures, and wander around.

I took in as much as I could upstairs and then headed back to the crypt to retrieve my things and say goodbye to my guys. (Their story here.) We went out the massive front doors to assemble on the steps to film a thank you video for our financial backers.

Except for the crazy London winds that caused us to take shelter in the corner of the front stoop in order to stand upright, it was magnificent to stand and look around at the city from that vantage point.

I immediately wanted to start singing “Feed the Birds“.

The steps of St. Paul’s would be a great place to write if I lived nearby. Sigh.

London Chronicles #12: St. Paul’s Thanksgiving Service Concludes

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Dec 112012

As I’m writing through the Thanksgiving Service at St. Paul’s, I realize that this is probably excruciatingly boring and you’re ready to get on with the good stuff. I apologize and thank you for your indulgence. I wrote for nearly two hours on Thanksgiving night because I didn’t want to forget the experience. I did it for me. I’m reliving it here. You have permission to skip ahead.

The service concluded with the hymn “Now Thank We all our God” and the final blessing by the Dean. I summarized it in my journal as: May God pour his blessing upon you that you may use his gifts to his glory and the welfare of all peoples.

Amen.

And then it was over. Done. The event we’d been working towards for months and talking about for nearly a year was finished.

I had a few minutes to talk with a friend afterwards. I asked her about her experience of the service. Was she nervous? Was it amazing? She explained that right before we sang, she had a panicky moment when she thought she might get thrown out of the cathedral. Her thought: when they invited the choir to sing, they might not have meant her.

My feelings were similar: honored and undeserving. It didn’t feel like I did anything special to DESERVE this opportunity. It was a gift handed to me that I just accepted and will continue to be thankful for and make the most of. Blogging the trip is just part of that. It’s my way of bringing you all along and sharing the honor with you.

London Chronicles #11: The Thanksgiving Service, The President’s Declaration, The Ambassador’s Remarks, and The Pastor’s Sermon

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Dec 102012

The service continued with the U.S. Ambassador, Louis Susman, reading President Obama’s Thanksgiving Declaration. He then made some of his own remarks. By the sound of things, he’s planning on retiring soon. You heard it here first. You can hear the Declaration and his speech here.

The Thanksgiving prayers were led by a group that included two teenagers and a former member of Glendale Pres who is now the Director of Student Ministries at the American Church in London. There were a few memorable bits:

“For setting us at tasks which demand our best efforts, and for leading us to accomplishments which satisfy and delight us. We thank you, Lord.”

“For disappointments and failures that lead us to acknowledge our dependence on your alone. We thank you, Lord.”

And then we got to sing “America the Beautiful”! After watching the marines bring the flags in, it was really cool to sing: “O beautiful for heroes proved in liberating strife, who more than self their country loved and mercy more than life!”

The hymn was followed by the sermon by John D’Elia, the Pastor of the American Church in London and the person who invited us to London in the first place. You can read his sermon here.

London Chronicles #10: The U.S. Embassy Thanksgiving Service, An Epiphany

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Dec 102012

As they collected the offering for the local Homeless Cold Weather Shelter, we sang a song that finally made sense to me: “Sure on This Shining Night”, words by James Agee. For months we’d been talking about the poem and what it meant and I’d never been satisfied that I understood it.

Sure on this shining night

Of star-made shadows round

Kindness must watch for me

This side the ground

The late year lies down the north,

All is healed, all is health

High summer holds the earth,

Hearts all whole

Sure on this shining night

I weep for wonder

Wandring far alone

Of shadows on the stars.

There in St. Paul’s in that moment, I got it. For me, it tells the tale of someone journeying through a cold, dark patch of life that is so black that only the stars give enough light to make shadows. Then a stranger, a caring messenger, provides some comfort that keeps him from death and despair and causes restoration and healing. The journeying one is deeply touched at the gift because he thought he was all alone.

London Chronicles #9: The U.S. Embassy Thanksgiving Service, The Beginning

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Dec 102012

The service itself began after we sang three spirituals. The U.S. Amabassador, Louis Susman, and his wife were escorted in while we sang “Come, Ye Thankful People, Come”. The hymn ends with the words “Come, ten thousand angels, come” and I felt like they were there in that lofty dome of St. Paul’s – as if they were built into the architecture itself.

We were then officially welcomed by the Dean of the Cathedral (who is also the ex officio Dean of the Order of the British Empire). The text of his welcome was printed in the order of service, but he added the phrase “Welcome to those…….from Glendale church.” That stunned me. I’m not one who exalts celebrity or values someone because of their status, but being welcomed by ‘name’ by the Dean of one of the most famous churches in the world was quite a thrill. It gave me a sense of what it might feel like to hear God say my name. Okay, that might be going a bit far, but I was giddy.

And then we sang a piece written by Scott Stroman, our director – in 7/8 and 7/4 – in Latin. Not an easy piece! “Gloria in excelsis Deo et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis. Laudamus te.” which means “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will to all. We praise you.”

The “Canon in Residence” who is in charge of the music in the cathedral read Deuteronomy 6:1-9. The part that I heard deep in my soul was: “Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise.” This one of the reasons I started this blog.

Our next hymn was “For the Beauty of the Earth” which made me cry. This was not what I expected. I knew I’d cry during the service, I even dreamt about it the night before, but this is not what I thought would trigger the tears. It happened during the fourth verse: “For the joy of human love, Brother, Sister, Parent, Child. Friends on earth and friends above” I was suddenly filled with the awareness of my family and friends in the states and those that have passed away and felt their love and support. For that I am truly, deeply, profoundly thankful.

Please know that right then and there in that place filled with such a rich history of faith, in the presence of God and 2,000 people, with tears streaming down my face, I thanked God for you all.

After I pulled myself together, the next scripture reading was by the Area Director of Young Life (Yes, they have Young Life in England). She read Philippians 4:4-9 and when she said “The Lord is near,” I believed her. In the majesty of St. Paul’s, I felt the God of the universe draw near.

What happened next? Read about it here.

Posted by Alisa at 07:56

London Chronicles #8: The Crypt

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Dec 092012

In between rehearsal and the service on Thanksgiving Day, we were allowed to wander St. Paul’s Cathedral at our leisure. I chose to explore the crypt. I poked my head around every corner I could while no one was looking. Even if I was allowed to take pictures, Hubby was upstairs with the camera, so I have nothing to show except pictures that are posted around the internet.

The walls and floor of the crypt were filled with 200 memorials. There were statesmen and war heroes, old and new, alongside ‘ordinary’ people like the woman who worked to make sure the boys of St. Paul’s choir were educated and well taken care of. Some people might have been thrilled at the famous sights of Lord Nelson’s or the Duke of Wellington’s tombs, but not me. The ones I found most interesting were dark figures laying on marble tables engraved with names and dates. There were just a handful, but they all were missing their arms, legs and noses. I wondered if they were depicted this way because they died together in battle or a horrible accident.

I asked the security officer and she explained that these memorials had stood in the Old St. Paul’s, built in the 14th century, and had ‘survived’ the Great Fire of London in 1666. Their missing limbs and noses were a result of being burned. I immediately returned to look at them again. Since they were not guarded or alarmed in any way, I ran my hand over one of them. I got a crazy thrill touching something that was nearly 400 years old.

Posted by Alisa at 20:56

London Chronicles #7: Thanksgiving at St. Paul’s

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Dec 092012

*In the interest of clarity and not boring you out of your gourds, I have broken this day into multiple entries. This is the pre-service part.

22-11-12. That’s the way I wrote the date in my journal. It was Thanksgiving Day and I was in London. I was so amped up that despite the late night, I woke before my alarm. In order to give ourselves plenty of time to catch the tube at rush hour and pass through the heightened security at St. Paul’s Cathedral with Hubby’s suspicion-arousing camera gear, we headed down to breakfast early. Hubby decided to give the Bangers a try and immediately regretted it. They were flavorless and mealy – let’s hope that’s not typical or I’ll start to believe what they say about English cuisine. I decided to stick with what I (thought I) knew and had Special K. Except Special K in the UK is whole grain wheat not corn – Yum!

We ran up to the room so I could change into my fancy shoes and then met up with a majority of the group in the lobby. The tube station was packed as expected. We compressed about 90% of us onto the first train requiring the last one on to duck her head so the doors would close. She spent the short ride with Hubby’s tripod pressed squarely into her side. We’ve nominated her for a citation for valor.

As we walked the short distance from the tube station to St. Paul’s, I was impressed by the size of the building itself. It stands on the top of Ludgate Hill and can be seen for miles, but I had no idea how massive it was.

They had set up K-rails and barriers all around the structure due to an increase in international tensions and we were subject to bag searches as we passed through security. The guards ‘ticked’ our names off the master list and directed us to the side door into the crypt. At the crypt door, everyone was given a badge that said ‘Choir’ to wear regardless of whether they were actually singing. Apparently being part of the Choir gave you the highest level of access possible that day.

We gathered upstairs for rehearsal, passing by 100’s of people buried in the walls and floor. As we entered the cathedral, I was gobsmacked by the magnificence.

I stood in awe a few moments trying to take it all in until I realized that I wasn’t capable – it was just too much. We were allowed to take just a few pictures inside the Cathedral – a rare privilege. When the youngest member of our group made her way up the stairs and arrived in the main Cathedral, I swear her jaw hit the floor. She plopped down next to me in the choir stall and after a few moments of stunned silence said, “Is anyone else having trouble concentrating? I can’t stop looking at everything.” I assured her that we were and passed her a copy of the order of service.

As the pre-service rehearsal began, we soon realized that Scott was justified when he insisted we listen to him with our eyes.

The sound in the cathedral seemed to rise straight up, bounce off the dome, echo around and come back as mush – beautiful, delicious, harmonic mush. As we practiced, we heard our voices, not as we normally do surrounding us and our neighbors, but calling back to us from distance lands in a less recognizable form. We lengthened our rests to make the most of the acoustics, crisped up our ending consonants, and practiced staying together by watching rather than listening.

Our practice ended nearly a half hour before we needed to be in our places for the service, so I got a change to wander the crypt while Hubby found a seat in the congregation. You can read more about the crypt here.

When it came time to ascend into the cathedral once again, I realized that I wasn’t nervous and hadn’t been all day – zero, nada, nil, nothing, no nerves. I spent a minute trying to savor the experience, but it just didn’t seem real. It certainly didn’t seem real to look out and see Hubby in the front row VIP seats with the American Ambassador! It turns out that the Pastor of the American Church in London, who was delivering the sermon, had offered him his extra seat.

Before the formal service began, we sang three spirituals arranged for us by Scott Stroman: “Jesus is a Rock,” a swing version of “In the Garden” (or, as we called it, ‘the Hoo-Hoo song’) and “The Storm is Passing Over”. We sang all three of these songs from memory and it feels like they’ll be with me forever. As we sang, the thousands of people were still coming in, talking and greeting each other. As we closed the last song, we began to clap along which startled quite a few people and caused a few of St. Paul’s wandsmen to smile and smirk.

For more on the St. Paul’s Thanksgiving service, you can keep reading here.

London Chronicles #6: I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead

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Dec 082012

After visiting the British Museum, adventuring and beer tasting in Greenwich, and a marathon choir rehearsal, we decided to go out. For the average person, going out after 9 p.m. is not a big deal, at least for the average Angeleno. For me, the quintessential morning person, this requires strength, determination, and the promise of some great reward. In this case it meant the opportunity to go pubbing with friends and my first fish and chips in London, I thought.

We spent quite awhile debating the merits of each pub. It finally came down to two: the one with good beer or the one with good fish and chips…..Since a majority of us hadn’t eaten dinner, including a teenager, fish and chips won out.

We plotted a course to the Tottenham. Smuggling the teenager through the pub on the upper level, we filed down the stairs into the restaurant. We were halted midway down by a stern sentry – the kitchen was closed. We reversed course and mustered in the back of the pub while a scout scanned the street for options. The mission focus narrowed: Find Food.

An intelligence officer remembered that Noodle Oodle, the restaurant our travel agent recommended, was nearby. An advance guard took off down the street to reserve us a table while others stayed behind to update the rear guard on our new location. Just as we arrived at Location Bravo, they turned the sign to ‘closed’ and secured the location.

Our options were becoming limited as the minutes ticked by so it was time to narrow our focus: find someplace open that was still serving food. We back tracked to the only place we recognized as a food establishment: the Cornish Bakehouse. We squeezed into the tiny take away shop next to a local who viewed our presence as an invasion which required him to defend his position by gathering all the chairs at his table close so as not to lose them to the opposition.

I requisitioned a Lamb and Mint pasty and took up a strategic position in the opposite corner while the troops filed in for chow. The meal was typical enlisted sustenance: warm and filling. Long after curfew, we wended our way through the ever-present maze of London pedestrians back to our barracks: mission accomplished.

London Chronicles #5: Rehearsal

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Dec 082012

After our adventures in Greenwich, we dashed back to the hotel and grabbed our gear for rehearsal: my music and Hubby’s camera. Hubby was along to document the choir’s trip and this would be his first chance to photograph us all in one place. We strolled up Tottenham Court Rd at a Londonish pace and were buzzed in through the back entrance of the American Church in London.

Here we combined with the rest of the choir – some professional, some amateur – that would be singing in St. Paul’s Cathedral for the Thanksgiving service. We also met the conductor/arranger/composer Scott Stroman for the first time.

It was great to be part of a larger choir and really feel the music how it would be performed in St. Paul’s.

Scott began by warming us up and taking us through each of the five pieces (3 spirituals, an original Gloria in Latin, and a Samuel Barber setting of a James Agee poem).

It was kind of like being conducted by Severus Snapein a good way. You could feel him pulling the music from you.

The spirituals were supposed to be memorized and now I know why. We didn’t sing a single one as written: he led us from chorus to verse and unison to harmony as the Spirit moved. It was an exercise in trust and our ability to watch and follow. Quite a wild ride!

London Chronicles #4: Lost in Greenwich Meantime

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Dec 042012

A few days before we left for London, there was some chatter going around about visiting a brewery while we were there. A member of the choir had some restaurant connections and wanted to go check out one brewery in particular. As it turned out, this was a private tour for just four people, and Hubby and I were two of the four. I’m not sure how that happened, but this afternoon was one of the highlights of our trip.

We set out from our hotel on a rainy afternoon to catch the tube into an area of town we hadn’t yet been: Greenwich, home of the Greenwich Royal Observatory, namesake of Greenwich Meantime. We were headed south of the Thames and East of the Isle of Dogs. Yikes! The first part was easy: take the Northern Line South to Waterloo and then take the Jubilee Line East to North Greenwich. We soon discovered that the Jubilee line was slick and gorgeous compared to the trains we’d been on before. As it dumped us off at the North Greenwich hub, we could see the dome of O2, aka the Millennium Dome, hovering nearby. Ah, well, another time.

Here was the tricky part of the trip: the bus. Not for lack of planning, though. We had two maps, we knew which two busses would get us nearest the brewery and we even knew what stop to get off. The tricky part was navigating the bus drivers. Tourists that we were, we checked with the driver when we boarded, “Does this bus stop at Blackwall Lane?”. “Yes.” “Can you tell us which one that is?” “Just listen, you’ll hear it.” Um, ok. We sat as close to the driver as we could and listened closely to the announcements for Blackwall Lane. After a half dozen stops, it felt like we had gone too far, so our fearless leader stepped forward to ask “Is this Blackwall Lane?” “That was a few stops back.” We bolted off the bus onto a nameless street.

We found ourselves in front of the East Greenwich Library with a plaque on the front that read “A gift of Andrew Carnegie.” It was dark and shuttered and looked as forlorn as we felt.

Now what?

We crossed the soggy street with a gang of school boys in their uniforms to wait for the bus going back the other way. At this point, the rain and wind picked up to remind us of our orphan status. Bus after bus passed us, none of them the right one. If it hadn’t been miserable weather, we might have abandoned the bus altogether. It couldn’t be too far, right? Then we saw our bus coming. Hallelujah! Sort of. The bus pulled up and let everyone off through the back doors and refused to open the front doors so we could board. Our leader shouted through the window to find out what was happening and got stoney silence in return. Finally, one of the disgorging passengers explained that the bus terminated here and we would have to wait to catch the next one in about 15 minutes. Arrrrgh!

Did I mention we had an appointment for this private tour? And we needed to be back at the hotel right afterwards in order to make it to rehearsal with a director we had never met? And we were warned not to be late? As the minutes ticked uselessly by, we decided to give walking a go and trudged on to the next bus stop. It may not have gotten us to the brewery any faster, but it made use of the adrenaline we were producing. We did catch the right bus and jumped off a stop early because we were nervous about going past it again.

When we arrived at the brewery, Joe, our tour guide, commiserated with us over the Greenwich bus drivers.

The tour was fabulous as Joe regaled us with stories of the different beers and their origins: London Lager, London Porter, and India Pale Ale. This brewery focusses on creating craft brews based on the historical recipes and characteristics of London’s heritage.

Instead of pasteurizing their beers, they employ two microbiologists who monitor a filtering process that uses the skeletons of microscopic sea creatures. This means that the Lager is hoppy and carbonated. Yum. The Porter is dark and thick, brewed from an 18th century recipe. Porter gets it’s name from the men who used to hang out on the street corners waiting to be hired to carry heavy items throughout the city. These porters would stop at pubs along their route to fortify themselves with a strong malty pint, thus the name. The India Pale Ale was brewed in the classic style with more alcohol in order to survive the long journey to India. My least favorite of the three, it was still a very drinkable beer.

As Joe guided us around the brewery, the tour got more an more technical. I was impressed by their commitment to quality and their facility was gorgeous. Stainless steel is very sexy.

It would have been wonderful to stay and sample some more. Their tasting room was filled with beers from someone famous’ collection (just another detail I’ve forgotten already) including some one of a kind commemorative bottles. It was an art gallery of beers. I’m still on the lookout for Meantime in L.A. I’ll certainly let you know when I track some down.

*Our trip back to the hotel was extremely uneventful and smooth. Not very exciting to blog about, but we were due for some boring bits right about then.

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