On Thursday 14th March 2024 I went to evensong in Durham Cathedral.
The OT reading was Jeremiah 22: 11 – 19. It’s a bit where the famously moany prophet (a ‘Jeremiad’, which is a lament that denounces a society, usually on the basis of its morals) reproves “Shallum the son of Josiah king of Judah, which reigned instead of Josiah his father” who apparently built a posh palace but was dethroned by his Egyptian overlord and taken as a captive to Egypt where he died. It makes the moral point: “Woe unto him that buildeth his house by unrighteousness, and his chambers by wrong; that useth his neighbour's service without wages, and giveth him not for his work” and that a King ought not to glorify himself with vanity building projects but to “do judgment and justice” and play fair with “the poor and needy”.
Quite right, of course, but it seemed a strange passage to read out in the middle of a service whose archaic costumes and time-hallowed sayings set to intricate melodies and performed in the surroundings of a cathedral might just be considered a vanity project.
But the point of evensong isn’t what is said but how it is said. This is worship done as performance. Did it matter that the choir and clergy considerably outnumbered the congregation? No! They’re doing it for themselves. The verger, whose very name comes from the little stick she carries, was very nice when she showed us to our seats before the kick-off but her real purpose was to lead the clergy in at the start and to and from the lectern for the readings and out at the end, and to bow to whichever clergyman she was escorting. Does this suggest a strangulated hierarchy? It does, of course - it is the church of England and we had to make a special mention in our prayers for ‘the King’ - but that is beside the point. Subservience is the essence of religion. Islam means submission although at least in their version of monotheism they submit to god whereas the verger seemed to be submissive before anyone with a higher position in the pecking order than herself.
One of the wonderful things about the ceremony is that it is always the same. There is a procession in. A psalm is sung is modified plainsong, the two sides of the choir taking turns before joining together for a rousing finale. There is a reading from the Old Testament and, later, from the New Testament. The Magnificat is sung and, later, the Nunc Dimittis. The congregation recite the creed. There are prayers. An anthem is sung. The choir and clergy file out in procession and the evening is ended with an organ voluntary. The music has been written for choir voices which dance up into the columned vault and echo from the walls and the roof. It is a glorious piece of performance art and it doesn’t matter how many people come to listen. It happens in cathedrals across the country every night of the week, every week of the year. It is worship as art.
But the point of evensong isn’t what is said but how it is said. This is worship done as performance. Did it matter that the choir and clergy considerably outnumbered the congregation? No! They’re doing it for themselves. The verger, whose very name comes from the little stick she carries, was very nice when she showed us to our seats before the kick-off but her real purpose was to lead the clergy in at the start and to and from the lectern for the readings and out at the end, and to bow to whichever clergyman she was escorting. Does this suggest a strangulated hierarchy? It does, of course - it is the church of England and we had to make a special mention in our prayers for ‘the King’ - but that is beside the point. Subservience is the essence of religion. Islam means submission although at least in their version of monotheism they submit to god whereas the verger seemed to be submissive before anyone with a higher position in the pecking order than herself.
One of the wonderful things about the ceremony is that it is always the same. There is a procession in. A psalm is sung is modified plainsong, the two sides of the choir taking turns before joining together for a rousing finale. There is a reading from the Old Testament and, later, from the New Testament. The Magnificat is sung and, later, the Nunc Dimittis. The congregation recite the creed. There are prayers. An anthem is sung. The choir and clergy file out in procession and the evening is ended with an organ voluntary. The music has been written for choir voices which dance up into the columned vault and echo from the walls and the roof. It is a glorious piece of performance art and it doesn’t matter how many people come to listen. It happens in cathedrals across the country every night of the week, every week of the year. It is worship as art.
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