Lessons and Carols

Last night we had "Lessons and Carols" at our little church, a picture of which is below. I have a better picture of it in snowy weather, which is what we've got right now, but darned if I can find it. I need to improve my photo organization.


If you're not a church-goer, but still like Christmas in a Charles Dickens sort of way, you'd probably enjoy going to a Lessons and Carols service at a local Episcopal church (although I read here that Lutherans and Catholics have them now, too). It's basically an alternation of readings (usually from the Bible) and songs. I say "usually" because we do Lessons and Carols a little earlier than most, to correspond with the church's anniversary and St. Nicholas Day, and our readings last night included a couple of nice things about the history of the church.

One of the Bible readings was:

Let us now sing the praises of famous men, our ancestors in their generations. ... But of others there is no memory; they have perished as though they had never existed; they have become as though they had never been born, they and their children after them. ... The assembly declares their wisdom, and the congregation proclaims their praise.

That's from Ecclesiasticus. If you know me, you're beginning to see why I like this service so much.

The songs are often obscure but Christmasy, and sung mostly by the choir (whether intended or not), except for the last one, which will be a familiar Christmas carol that everybody sings together.

One of my favorites this year was "In the Bleak Midwinter," which you've heard, but probably don't know (unless you're our friend, Kris). The first verse is:

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Here's a recording of Gloucester Cathedral Choir singing it. When you hear the tune you'll say, "Oh, yeah, that one. That's nice." And if you care that "snow on snow, snow on snow" happens rarely enough in England, never in Bethlehem, you're just not getting into the spirit of this thing.

"Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" is the traditional last song, I think, and that's what we sang last night. It gets you in the Christmas mood. I noticed one or two Village Atheists in the congregation last night (we make them wear signs around their necks), singing heartily. (I was going to say "lustily," but that didn't sound right.) And there was no collection!

The nice thing about going to a small church is that everybody gets into the act. If you've ever seen the Anthony Hopkins film, Shadowlands, you might remember how the clergy and academics all get robed up and march around for Lessons and Carols. And since Suellen still has the hood she got for her Master's Degree, she was enlisted to be one of those marching around (it's actually called "processing," with the accent on the second syllable). It's Make Believe We're English Day! and it's really formal, beautiful, and fun. Here's Suellen looking her solemn best:


The church has recently "gone green" in a quite literal sense: they've changed as many light bulbs as possible to the new long-life, low-energy florescent type, which the camera sees as green light. But there are still some incandescent bulbs, which the camera sees as orange light. And the ceiling is dark wood, which sucks up all the light in the place, anyway. And I need a faster lens. All of which is to explain to my brother, Chip, why these pictures are no good. He is likely to add another reason, but that's what you'd expect from a Vikings fan.

The small choir (about 20 people, so they made up 1/4 of the people present) is getting better all the time, and were excellent last night.


Yes, that's the back of Suellen's head. Like any Anglican Communion church worthy of the name (ahem, ahem), we have some seats in the "quire" configuration -- i.e., with the pews facing each other.


Okay, it doesn't look like there's 60 people here, but they were all crowded over in the part of the church that was out of the camera's view.

After the service, we all go down to the undercroft for dinner. The place is crawling with children and families, and it's just fun. Good luck finding a place to sit, though -- Suellen and I shared the piano bench.

After we eat, the kids get a visit from St. Nicholas. There's a genuine English guy at the church named Richard, who -- and you can plainly see why -- has no competition for this role of a lifetime.





We had fun.