The National Cathedral

As my readers have doubtless figured out, I'm Catholic, but my boyfriend isn't.  He's unencumbered, religiously-speaking, but has a gay uncle who is the rector of a large Episcopal church in Dallas.  I am told that this uncle applied for a position at the National Cathedral, and helped write the hymnal they use there.  I also know - no need to be told - that my boyfriend is an Anglophile of the most dedicated sort, and having seen the National Cathedral briefly in March, I know that it's trying hard to be an English cathedral.  Fortunately for those of us who like that sort of thing, it does quite well in that respect.

What may surprise you, however, is that I gave up my weekly Mass to attend the National Cathedral instead (exhibit A in the case for me being ridiculously in love with that man).  So here goes - a Catholic in the heart of Episcopal America (the National Cathedral is where the Episcopal church's presiding bishop was inaugurated, after all) - will they scent the foreigner in their midst and cast him out, with much wailing and gnashing of teeth?  Will it be a revelation that drives me from Rome to Canterbury?  Will the cathedral impress my unflappable boyfriend?  Read on to find out!

Washington National Cathedral
3101 Wisconsin Ave. NW 
Website

The National Cathedral is located, surprise surprise, in the neighborhood of Cathedral Heights (check the blog map for the exact location), and sits on a hill such that it can be seen from the platform of the National Airport Metro station (which is outdoors and on stilts a few dozen feet from the ground, but quite a ways away).  To get here from my place, take the Metro from Southwest to Chinatown, then transfer onto the Red in the direction of Shady Grove (is it shady, I wonder?).  We got off at Cleveland Park and stopped for a bite to eat (for J, not me, because I had eaten breakfast while he was in the shower).  We then walked west on Macomb St. and approached the Cathedral from it's north side (the picture on the left is from the south, which is much prettier as it gets all that lovely southern sun that I used to have in Chicago).

When we turned the corner and saw the towers of the cathedral, J was mightily impressed (there's your answer to question 3).  The National Cathedral does its level best to pass for Canterbury - you think I'm kidding, but look at this photo of Canterbury and then this one of the National Cathedral and tell me there aren't any similarities - so for my anglophile par excellence  this was absolutely great.  I like it too.

We had decided to attend the 11:15 Eucharist (not Mass, I learned - Episcopalians don't say "Mass") because it had organ and choir, and promised to be the most immersive experience.  And it was.  The service opened with the cathedral choir (men and boys, in the proper English tradition) processing in while singing a motet, continued with several excellent hymns, and concluded with a very well done organ voluntary.  In between there was chant, more boy choir, and solo organ.  I am mightily impressed, but as I said to J, one of the reasons you see this here but not in many Catholic parishes of local prominence is that the National Cathedral can afford, and can draw, a good organist, a talented choirmaster, etc.  Most Catholic churches don't have the prominence to draw such people, and even more often can't afford them.  Even some Catholic cathedrals struggle with music due to money.

The only complaint I have is that all of the hymns were pitched too low for me to sing at my best.  I've been every major voice part in the course of my musical life - I started as a boy soprano, and was subsequently "graduated" to alto because alto parts for boy choir are always harder and I was a good singer, even though I still had the voice to sing soprano (I took the change of assignment as a demotion and a personal insult, because the soprano melody line was always prettier and they got to sing the descants at Christmas).  When my voice changed, it sank all the way to bass, and I sang bass in the high school madrigal group as a freshman.  But then I began to ascend upwards again, singing second tenor as a sophomore and rising up to the elite ranks of first tenor by senior year.  I'm still a tenor - a first tenor by any choir's standards, though not by operatic standards (though, as I have no intention of pursuing a career in opera, I suppose that doesn't much matter).  The majority of men, however, are middling baritones, and it was for these men that the hymns were pitched.  This is all well and good - more people feel comfortable singing, which is great - but I don't get those soaring high notes that let me stand out from most of the other guys in the room.  Nevertheless, the portly lady standing next to me complemented me on my singing voice as the service drew to a close.  I was surprised she'd even been able to hear me, and managed little more than a bashful "thank you."

I won't acknowledge that this sort of music never occurs in Catholic churches (although I am willing to concede that you'll have more luck finding it in Europe), but the liturgy here would not happen in a Catholic church.  Most prominent among the differences is that the Episcopalians have a First Reading and a Gospel - they're missing the Second Reading which Catholics always include.  There are differences in some of the prayers, of course, and I definitely messed up the Creed, although the lady next to me didn't shoot me a glare or raise a ruckus and have the infiltrated Papist thrown out (answer to question 1).  It's times like these when I realize how attached I am to the Catholic Mass - to the point that I will recite what I know, only to notice that the rest of the congregation isn't saying what I am.  Oops!


One thing I've gotten used to in the Catholic church is homilies of moderate length and moderate impact.  The Savonarolas and fire-breathing Dominicans have been supplanted by modest parish priests with modest goals for their sermons: elaborate on the readings of the day and attempt to relate that somehow to a social problem or a moral lapse that everyday Catholics encounter/experience.  Even the remaining Dominicans don't breathe fire (see the church review for St. Dominic), and I can't remember remember the last time I heard a priest speak about Hell.  But I suppose there's something about the National Cathedral that inspires the grandiose.  Maybe it's the stained glass (above).  Or perhaps it's the vaulted ceiling, soaring pillars, and elaborate woodwork (right).  Could it be the intricate marble floors, or the painstaking (and very aesthetically pleasing) needlework of these kneeler pads?

I don't know.  And I wish I had more pictures to share with you, because I forgot my camera and had to make do with my phone, so only about half of them are free of blur.  I'll just have to return with my camera sometime.  But in any case, my point is that the sumptuousness of the cathedral evidently inspired the homilist to attempt to reach the lofty heights.  By which I mean he spoke at length on every major theme which has ever occurred in a sermon, and then attempted to link them with some scripture passages which preceded the gospel.  Not the actual reading itself, mind, but the passages which precede it.  Three quarters of an hour later (you think I'm joking, but I'm not - at least, not much), I had no idea what point he was trying to make and I was craving some lunch.  Three cheers for the apocryphal Catholic priest who, on a boiling day in August, got up to the ambo to deliver his homily, said "It's hotter than Hell in here," and got back down.

On a totally unrelated note, did you know there's a lump of moon rock in the National Cathedral?  There is, in the "Space Window," on the left.  The moon rock is actually in the window, in the middle of the dark circle in the center-top (surrounded by the white ring).  Twenty feet to the left is Woodrow Wilson.  Yes, our 28th president.  He's buried in a sarcophagus in one of the aisles of the cathedral, and is actually the only U.S. president buried in the District of Columbia.   I've always shad a soft spot for Wilson, so J looked on in bemusement while I said hello and attempted to get a photo (this is the photo I was trying to take, but mine didn't turn out.  This is what I get for going to a cathedral without a proper camera).


Now, since this isn't a Catholic church I can't really call this a church review, as I won't contemplate attending on a regular basis, but supposing I were to review it anyway...

Location: 3 when the Metro decides to cooperate (as it did today), but a 2 on days when it doesn't.  Also a 2 once the weather gets colder - the hike from the metro station to the cathedral is about a mile, which I don't want to do in sleet.

Aesthetics: 5, without a doubt.  See pictures and gushing above.

Music:  Very good indeed.  It was all pitched too low for me, but quite good nonetheless.  Give it a 4.5.

Liturgy: Not really feeling the whole "sanctity of the Mass" thing Catholics look for, and the sermon was awful.  2.5 - a 2 for the sermon, but an extra .5 for women at the altar.

That gives us 15 of 20, or an average of 3.75.  Good, but not so fantastic that I'll be converting any time soon (there's your answer to question 2).   However, the National Cathedral, it should be noted, is not funded in any way by the government or any public funds, nor is it funded by the Episcopal Church, although it is Episcopal (though you have to look pretty hard on their website to find this out).  No, the National Cathedral is supported entirely by private donations, which has meant that it has suffered greatly during the recession.  In fact, it has reduced its staff by more than half to meet budget shortfalls caused by a slump in donations.  So if you've got some money to burn and love a good cathedral - in the very best, English Gothic sense of the word - perhaps you'd consider a donation.  Doesn't matter if you're not Episcopal; this building is awesome.  So although I'm not going to convert, once my finances loosen up a bit, I may have a donation or two to make...