I guess it
is time that I at least try to describe this service, for readers who have never heard
of it. Choral evensong is the “flagship”
service of the Church of England, being sung daily or almost daily, at every
English cathedral and at Cambridge, Oxford and other university chapels. Based on medieval services, and sung
each late afternoon since the 16th century, it
is almost entirely choral, that is, sung by the choir, interspersed with
readings or prayers by clergy. The
congregation does not play an active role in the service, except for singing perhaps
one or two hymns and reciting the creed. But because in most cathedrals the “congregation”
sits in choir stalls near the choir, there is a unique immediacy
for those in attendance.
I have
tried to figure out how to articulate the hold this service has on me, but
without success. Even though the church
of my upbringing had an English-style men and boys’ choir, evensong was not sung. So my exposure to the music of the service
came higgledy-piggledy style, listening to records by King’s College Cambridge,
St. John’s College Cambridge, Westminster Abbey, and others. The Psalms of David (recorded in, I believe, 1968 by King's College choir)
taught me how to sing Anglican chant, and recordings of the evensong canticles
(Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis) composed by Howells, Stanford and others
familiarized me with words that would soon become as near to me as the beating
of my own heart. When did I first hear
an evensong service in person? I think
it must have been in 1978 or 1979, when I made my first pilgrimage to England,
stepped off the plane at Heathrow and made my way immediately to Cambridge, so
I would be in line at King’s for four o’clock evensong. I remember being astonished that I was shown
to a choir stall literally across the aisle from the famous choir of men and
boys. I had come home. The next year, I attended the St. Thomas (NY)
Choirmaster’s Conference which David Willcocks directed, and by late 1980, I was
singing daily morning and weekly evensong services in the mixed men and women’s
choir at Royal Holloway College/University of London. We
also sang evensong at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor and sang for a week
as the choir-in-residence at Lincoln Cathedral.
From the
moment the words “Oh Lord, open Thou our lips” is sung, it’s like I click into
a spiritual place that is a direct line to the Divine. I have tried for decades to convince myself
that (my own personal spiritual beliefs being more “New Thought”/”New Age”)
this is just some bizarre holdover from another lifetime, or that it’s
irrelevant on a host of levels. In the
American context, of course, a case could be made that it is. A handful of American Episcopal churches and
cathedrals sing evensong, but these beautiful services are rather like drops of
oil in the water – a totally different “animal” from the culture and society
around them. I’ve even had clergy in our
country tell me that this service and its music are irrelevant, and that my passion for them is misguided. But despite all the discouragement, I had the immense privilege of singing many evensong services when I was in the choir of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York, under the direction of Bruce Neswick.
The fact is
that, while the tradition is no doubt struggling even in England, it is born
out of that soil and is part of a historical stream of spiritual and musical
energy there. Most of the music's composers are English; somehow, there is a quality to the sound and the setting which seems to send your own roots down into the soil, much as happens when I listen to the music of Elgar or Vaughan Williams. It is an odd sensation, perhaps attributable to my own English heritage. You can find occasional evensong services even in smaller parish churches, a challenge for non-professional choirs because the music of the tradition requires
an extremely high level of musical skill. Yet it is the perfect way to end a day, and singers of evensong give everything they have.
Evensong's beauty transcends time and “relevance” and takes those who resonate with it, home. There are increasing opportunities for women to sing evensong these days, and I want to live where I can take regular part in some of those opportunities. But just to show up at a cathedral in the late afternoon light – and sit quietly in the choir stalls above or to the side of the choir as they start singing the “Preces” – is my chosen way of “shewing forth” praise of the Divine.
Evensong's beauty transcends time and “relevance” and takes those who resonate with it, home. There are increasing opportunities for women to sing evensong these days, and I want to live where I can take regular part in some of those opportunities. But just to show up at a cathedral in the late afternoon light – and sit quietly in the choir stalls above or to the side of the choir as they start singing the “Preces” – is my chosen way of “shewing forth” praise of the Divine.
