(Part 2)

The dining area of the hotel is on the ground floor, with windows on two sides, looking out on the junction of James and Avon St., near Kingsmeade Square, where there is a genial mix of interesting cafes and eateries.

But we didn’t need to go seeking food and coffee—it was provided for us in abundance in this spacious area at the hotel entrance. When I arrived shortly after 8 a.m., it was already filled with our Cleveland friends, feasting on waffles, sausage, scrambled eggs, fruit, cheese, and Wheatabix, the ubiquitous crunchy British cereal.

At 9:50 a.m. sharp, the choir gathered at the entrance to the hotel, vestments in hand, to take the short walk up to Bath Abbey. There, the choir and company were led downstairs to the “song school” (aka “the choir room”) to get acclimated to the space and hang up their vestments for later.

Tom, our English guide and friend, sat at the piano and softly played some measures of the Star Spangled Banner and God save the King to welcome us.

The choir seemed eager and focused as Kevin gave last-minute instructions about the rehearsal at 3 p.m. He said that the choir would only have about one hour in the Abbey to practice the music and the logistics, both for today’s Evensong and tomorrow’s Eucharist.

It was a tall order but the choir received the news without flinching. After warning all of us to “look right” when stepping into the street, and to take care of one another, Kevin released the flock to explore the city on its own.

Some of us found local shops for more coffee, or signed on to the free two-hour walking tour of Bath, or simply wandered the city on their own. My daughter Liz and I found our way to the River Avon where we took in the Parade Gardens, crossed the River, and ambled up the Riverside Walk. We enjoyed iconic views of the Guildhall Markets and the Pulteney Bridge, before wending our way up top.

This remarkable bridge is only one of four bridges in the world which has shops and establishments on both sides. There were, for example, narrow cafes serving scones and croissants to people seated at small tables, overlooking the Avon. The breeze was refreshing and the plump bees, smelling the clotted cream, marmalade and honey, were drunk with ecstasy.

We made our way to one of Bath’s most well-known attractions, the Royal Crescent, where we caught up with one of the two-hour tour groups, which included Karen, Kari, Emily, and other Cleveland friends. We enjoyed hearing Clive, the Bath city tour guide, explain that the Georgian townhouses in this exclusive circular avenue are all designed the same way.

Each has five stories, starting with a basement that has the kitchen and going to the top floor (which was for the servants). The second floor always includes a drawing room where, in prior centuries, people would look out on their fellow aristocrats, parading each day in their finest clothes.

And the day ends…

After a siesta, it was time for Evensong. The choir left for its rehearsal and the rest of us made our way up to the Abbey just before 5 p.m., where many of us sat in the “quire”—the “sideways pews” at the front, closest to the altar. This placed the St. Paul’s choir between us and a sizable congregation of tourists and townsfolk (maybe 50 or 60), an excellent crowd for Evensong.

I was delighted that Will and Tom, two of the three friends I met last night when I got lost, came for Evensong. When we made eye contact, I waved them forward so they could sit with us.

As the organ completed its prelude, the verger appeared, leading Kevin Jones, Director and the St. Paul’s choir into its assigned stalls, along with Tom, our English guide (who is a seminarian), serving as a superb cantor. A warm and dignified Abbey priest presided and welcomed the congregation.

As Tom intoned the first phrase: O God, make speed to save us, the choir’s crisp, bright response: O Lord, make haste to help us floated up to the top of the vaulted nave, hanging there like a prayer over everything that would follow.

If the choir was nervous about this debut, I couldn’t detect any trace of it. Every entrance was confident and every chord locked beautifully. Under Mr. Jones’s clear and magisterial direction, the choir’s dynamic variations, crisp diction, and soulful voices made Evensong a marvel.

It is hard to single out highlights because the entire service was filled with musical and spiritual integrity. But there were two things that, to me, merit special mention. First, the singing of the Psalm appointed for the day (Ps. 104).

This Psalm is long, some 35 verses, celebrating God’s created order. To me, Anglican chant (the favored vehicle for delivering psalms in our tradition) can easily become monotonous, with its predictable chord changes and resolutions.

But the way Kevin and the choir presented this psalm, adjusting dynamics and mood, trading voices in and out, brought something fresh and appealing to every verse. It was a joy to listen to and easy to enter into as a prayer, not just a performance.

The second standout moment for me was the phrase: Glory be to the Father and to the Son,” etc.” which concludes the Magnificat and the Nunc Dimittis. In today’s musical setting, there was a dramatic pause after each person of the Holy Trinity. The choir delivered a bright forte chord followed by a full stop. Yes, Silence!

 And in that space, it was as if each Person of the Holy Trinity had “a moment,” while the voices reverberated off the west wall and hovered above the congregation. To me, it was an awesome moment.

Out on the square following the service, the air was mild. A fresh wind swept down the corridor between the Roman baths and the restaurants which were just beginning to fill up for the evening.

Visitors stood on the plaza in front of the Abbey, taking selfies and, in the center of the square, a street musician, with a flute and a sax, played reggae, Irish jigs and the blues. A two-year old boy danced blissfully next to his adoring mom. 

Meanwhile, on the West facade of the Church, hovering above this sweet evening scene, stone carvings of angels were ascending and descending on ladders, connecting heaven and earth. 

This is an illustration of Jacob’s dream in the wilderness (Genesis 28) when he felt desperate and alone. When he awoke, he realized he had been flat wrong: God is in this place and I never knew it. 

That’s a good place to end today’s blog, with the reminder that here in Bath and there, where each of you may be right now: God is in that place with you. May we all know it.

Greg+

Bath Abbey Livestreams

Tune in to the Senior Choir’s livestreamed performances at Bath Abbey!