In which I do at least one thing too many

Here’s a quiet spot between the dining hall and the chapel to set down my coffee, the mandatory black shoes for liturgy, and what one of my friends has christened the Bag of Power.

7:00. Breakfast at McClurg. The esophagus has been a bit hit or miss lately, but it will prove cooperative today.

8:30ish. I’m in COTA (Chapel of the Apostles) for anyone who wants to be anointed for healing. No one drops by, so I content myself with playing Bach on the rehearsal piano, alternating with trashy reharms of Cleansing Fountain.

9:00-10:45. Rehearsal. At opening announcements I let everyone know that I’ll be singing the Gospel at today’s Eucharist. I make sure everyone knows the responses, using the Kodaly hand signs that I got someone to teach me a few minutes before. (I only needed do and la.) Rehearsal goes well. Bob Simpson mostly congratulates us on our good Thursday sound but occasionally points out when we’re still sounding a bit Monday.

11:00. Holy Eucharist, Rite Two, for Benedict of Nursia. I’m pleased with my singing of the Gospel, and the conference director verified afterward that I didn’t sharp, as I have an unfortunate tendency to do. (It’s all a matter of keeping my shoulders relaxed, but yelling at oneself internally “RELAX YOUR SHOULDERS! REL;AX YOUR SHOULDERS!” is not terribly effective.) Bishop Alexander’s preaching all week has been excellent, and today is no exception.

We use the revised version of Eucharistic Prayer C, which we sing to the Proulx setting in the appendix to the service music book of the Hymnal 1982, adapting the celebrant’s part as necessary to fit the new words. The Lord’s Prayer is the harmonized one from Wonder, Love, and Praise (sorry, I don’t have my books with me, so I can’t give numbers for any of this stuff). We’ve used that twice now, and I love it. Check it out if you don’t know it. The congregation can just monotone on a G while the choir goes wild.

At some point, as I help with ablutions in the sacristy, it becomes apparent that either there is no incense at Friday’s Evensong or else I am the thurifer.

The conference director and the assistant chaplain agree that there will, in fact, be incense.

The assistant chaplain will have to ask the Custodian of the Book of Common Prayer whether it is appropriate for a thurifer to wear hood and tippet.

Or maybe he should ask the fire marshal.

My trainer has had a cancelation, so we’re doing a session at 1:00. This means no lunch—thank goodness I have a couple of protein bars in my room—but consistency and structure are really important on one’s “fitness journey.” I just barely have enough time to shower and get to the 2:30 rehearsal in COTA . . .

after which I quickly run through the minutiae of Friday Morning Prayer with the organist (I’m officiating) and then head over to All Saints to be shown where all the accoutrements for incense are. The chains on the thurible are hopelessly tangled, and we can’t find a pair of pliers to take them off and set them to rights, so we get permission to borrow the thurible from COTA.

Come to think of it, the dean of the School of Theology, who gave said permission, is both a liturgist and a volunteer fire fighter. He could answer my question about vestments from every relevant angle.

Anyway, that gives me just enough time to get back to the Sewanee Inn for the 5:00 reception for the Society for the Sewanee Church Music Conference, of which I’m a lifetime member. There is much delightful conversation, as well as excellent hors d’oeuvres, which are very welcome after a skipped lunch. Then I get invited to join a lively and hilarious group for dinner at the Mexican restaurant in Monteagle. They drop me off afterward at the Inn, where I join another lively and hilarious group in the lobby.

So it was a full day, with not a moment’s rest—but also not a moment ill-spent