As northern Michigan cities go, Traverse City is large, with a population of about sixteen thousand and more than 150,000 persons in the metropolitan area. Situated at the southern end of Grand Traverse Bay of Lake Michigan, the city is the center of cherry production in the state, so its airport – on Fly Don’t Drive – is known as Cherry Capital Airport. Michigan produces over 90,000 tons of cherries each year, helping to make the United States second only to Turkey worldwide. Traverse City hosts the National Cherry Festival each year.

Traverse City (not pronounced “truh-VERSE,” as one might expect, but “TRA-verse,” with the emphasis on the first syllable) has been home to Grace Episcopal Church since its founding in 1867. Built in 1876, the original church was moved by horse to its current location in 1897.A separate two-story building with parish hall, classrooms, and offices was completed in 1965. In 1985, the two buildings were connected by a “commons.” The church was rebuilt into an octagonal shape in 2005, with large wooden beams supporting a central turret with clear glass, which allows sunlight to flow into the otherwise-dark space, as the walls are paneled in wood. The stained glass and many of the liturgical furnishings came from the previous – and much smaller – church.

Interior of Grace Episcopal Church, Traverse City, Michigan (photograph by the author).

A typical weekend includes three services of the Holy Eucharist, one at 5:00 o’clock on Saturday afternoon, and two on Sunday, at 8:00 and 10:00 o’clock in the morning. The three services are basically identical – updated Rite Two – except for the music. Saturday’s music is contemporary, led by a pianist and a group called “Grace Harmony.” Sundays at 10:00 o’clock, the music is more traditional, using The Hymnal 1982 and including organ and choir (or a soloist in the summer months). Sundays at 8:00 o’clock, there is no music at all. The twenty-four-page service bulletin (a separate one for each service) welcomes worshippers with these words: “Everyone is invited to share in the loving, liberating, life-giving way of Jesus Christ, who empowers us to act in the world, to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God and each other.”

The worship begins with an extensive Juneteenth “pre-service” commemoration, so all three services have a silent procession, fol-lowed by a Collect that contains three petitions and no oblation. While the form fora Collect is somewhat flexible, this reviewer has never encountered three separate petitions before. The prayer is fol-lowed by a litany that concludes, “May we continue the fight for full liberation for all people.” Then comes “A Confession and a Hope for Reconciliation” which concludes with “Absolution” whose opera-tive phrase is “Our sins are forgiven.” Even given three encounters with this text, the supply priest cannot discern whether or where to make the sign of the cross over the people. (Fortunately, such gestures are commonplace but not mandatory.) A “Concluding Collect” follows – this one also containing three petitions, and also includes two oblation phrases (“that we might.”).

At this point, the regular worship begins. On Saturday, there is an opening hymn: “Holy God, we praise thy name” (GROSSER GOTT). On Sunday at 10:00, there is an unidentified Prelude, during which a woman at the rear shouts, “You may be seated.” Then come three stanzas of an opening hymn: “Morning glory, starlit sky” (BINGHAM). All three services continue with this Opening Acclamation:

Blessed be our God: most holy, glorious, and undivided Trinity. And blessed be God’s reign, now and for ever.

Quite a few worshippers add their “Amen” to this at each of the three services. On Saturday afternoon, all then sing Canticle of the Turning, which has unhelpfully been printed on the front and back of an insert sheet, causing worshippers to turn their page as frequently as the canticle turns. The refrain is sung only after the second stanza, and the third and fourth stanzas are inexplicably omitted. On Sunday at 8:00 a.m., all recite the Gloria in excelsis; at 10:00 a.m., the hymnal setting by Robert Powell is sung. The Collect of the Day follows; this has no invocation, reminding this reviewer that not all collects include all parts.

A reading from Exodus comes next (19:2-8a). (The parish administrator did advise the supply priest that they were using Track2 of the Revised Common Lectionary, but he failed to grasp this, so he has prepared a sermon referring heavily to the Old Testament lesson in Track 1; more on this later.) Next comes a recitation of Psalm 100 in the revision by the sisters of the Order of St. Helena. As is the custom locally, the psalm is read, not sung, and the congregation completes the part of the verse after the asterisk once the reader has begun it. One wonders, first, how effective this practice will be when Psalm 136 is appointed, and, second, why they cannot attempt even simplified Anglican Chant – the psalms are songs, after all. Next comes a reading from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans (5:1-8). This profound passage (“suffering pro-duces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope”) might have more gravitas were it listed as St. Paul’s letter and not merely “A reading from Romans” – or is even the Letter to the Romans discredited as a work of the Blessed Apostles?

At 5:00 o’clock on Saturday, a sign-language interpreter explains the body movements for the “Halle, halle, halle, lu-u-jah” that is sung, with vigor. At the later service on Sunday, the hymn – listed as “Gradual Hymn” – is “Come, Holy Spirit” (ST. AGNES). The Gospel proclamation that follows is from St. Matthew (9:35-10:23), although the supply priest omits the optional section (10:9-23). A somewhat abbreviated homily follows, as the priest has prepared an extensive treatise on Abraham, Sarah, and their twelve great grandchildren – none of which is mentioned in today’s Old Testament reading. After extemporaneously omitting the first page of his notes, he does manage to mention that – in addition to Fathers’ Day and Juneteenth – June is also the month of gay pride. All then stand to recite the Nicene Creed, in its revised version from Enriching Our Worship.

As the altar is prepared for communion, a soloist sings Remember I Love You by Kathryn Christian at the 5:00 p.m. service, and at the 10:00 a.m. on Sunday a different soloist sings an unidentified piece. (She has a lovely voice.) Ushers bring forth the bread and wine, then pass alms basins throughout the congregation for monetary offerings or tokens indicating online giving. Then, at the 5:00 p.m. and 10:00 p.m. services, all sing the OLD HUNDREDTH dox-ology, with “he” changed to “God.” The rhythm is off – not half notes and quarter notes, but all quarters. This rather curious custom was once quite common in the Episcopal Church, despite musical notation to the contrary. More curious, though, is the continuation of formal presentation of monetary offerings, since the 1979 prayer book seeks to avoid exalting the money over every-thing else. The hope was that all the offerings are presented together, with the bread and wine taking prominence – but, sadly, this best practice is rare.

The priest then begins the Eucharistic Dialogue and Eucharistic Prayer C. At 5:00 p.m., the Sanctus is from Wonder, Love, and Praise, labeled “Santo, Santo, Santo” but sung in English. At 10:00 a.m., it is the Powell setting, and at 8:00 a.m. it is simply spoken. Certain liberties are taken with the text of the prayer, including the rector’s addition of mothers to fathers and the names of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob’s various wives. The supply priest changes “skill” to “will” to correct Howard Galley’s obvious typographic error and to pro-vide the phrase with its intended allusion to St. Augustine’s sermon on the holy Trinity.²

All pray the Lord’s Prayer in the contemporary version. At the 5:00 p.m. service, the congregation sings “The disciples knew the Lord Jesus” from Wonder, Love, and Praise, and at the other two ser-vices the Pascha nostrum (“Christ, our Passover”) is simply spoken. The priest inserts the Invitation to Communion; both this and the communion of the people itself are oddly missing from all three service bulletins. (Is communion of the people so unimportant that it simply happens after the Fraction Anthem and before the Post-Communion Prayer?) During communion, the Grace Harmony musicians sing Come to the Table (WLP) at 5:00 p.m., and at 10:00 a.m., a soloist sings “I, the Lord of see and sky” with some assistance from the congregation.

The second Post-Communion Prayer is recited, followed by a lengthy Blessing that is part dismissal and part hopeful proclamation – but it does not proclaim anything like “blessing.” At 5:00 p.m., all are invited to sing Come and Follow Me, but only the soloist knows the music. (The 5:00 o’clock service today is followed by a potluck supper, which nearly everyone gathered attends.) At 10:00 a.m., the congregation thankfully sings “Love divine, all loves excelling” (HYFRYDOL), although, the musician plays a haunting alternative harmony with a drone (single note held throughout) for the second and third stanzas, rendering harmony singing impossible. The people are dismissed with these words:

Alleluia! Alleluia! We go forth in the power of the Holy Spirit. Thanks be to God. Alleluia! Alleluia!

Since – in the “Absolution” section of the opening pre-liturgy – the celebrant has prayed “change our worship and work when they become routine,” perhaps this rendering is designed to provide “a genuine encounter with God and our better selves”? One is told that the rector has an undergraduate degree in drama, which may explain various changes, amendments, and additions.

This reviewer remembers fondly many conversations with his mentor and later colleague and friend, the late Louis Weil (1935-2022). Louis decried the “additive character of the liturgy,” in which many things are added, but none are subtracted to compensate. He also called for fidelity to authorized texts, insisting that a parish priest’s time was better spent caring for his flock than inventing new forms of common prayer. He taught that various sections of the liturgy had intrinsic “performative phrases,” such as “Almighty God. .. forgive you,” “The blessing of God. . .,” and “Go forth. . .,” suggesting also that gestures may enhance understanding of these profound words. He also cautioned that if one makes many changes, the liturgy ceases to be universal and becomes difficult to understand by visitors – especially visiting Episcopalians. It also risks becoming more about the human author than the divine object of our worship. Plus, not just Louis, but basically every liturgical scholar since the 1960s, decries the presentation of money only while singing the Doxology. All of these concerns come to the fore here, although the congregation seems oblivious to any of them.

The much smaller predecessor church building may have necessitated three services, as the entire congregation could not fit all at one time. Under this constraint, having three services made sense, as did giving each its specific character. As things currently stand, everyone could easily be accommodated at one gathering; either that, or the three should really be even more diverse (perhaps a contemporary liturgy following the outline of An Order for Celebrating the Holy Eucharist, a Rite One service, and a Rite Two liturgy more compliant to the prayer book, as is more commonly the practice). However, things are sorted out, and squeezing Juneteenth and Fathers’ Day into the same liturgy – plus the preacher’s inclusion of gay-pride month – makes for a somewhat overwhelming series of metaphors and concerns.

No easy solution presents itself, and perhaps none exists. For the good people of Grace Episcopal Church in the cherry capital of the United States, however, these concerns are very possibly things indifferent. They are more concerned with community, their plenteous Jubilee Ministry (a food pantry, daytime respite for homeless people, and monthly homeless shelter), and – most importantly – the praise and worship of the Triune God.

J. Barrington Bates                                                   Harbor Springs, Michigan

¹Full disclosure: this reviewer served as supply priest this weekend.

²Originally “memory, understanding, and will.” Changing “understanding” to “reason” seems something of an Anglican tweak, providing resonance with Richard Hooker’s later work. See https://open.library.okstate.edu/introphilosophy/chapter/724/, accessed 22 June 2023.

Describing itself as “Charlevoix the Beautiful,” the city sits on the lower peninsula of Michigan at the junction of Round Lake with Lake Michigan – about one hundred seventy-five miles north of Grand Rapids and nearly three hundred miles from Detroit. Round Lake leads to Lake Charlevoix, lined by what locals call “cottages” and boathouses. In the warmer months, the main thoroughfare called Bridge Street is lined by hanging baskets of petunias.¹ This reviewer remembers when the verge between the automotive traffic and sidewalk along both sides of the street was planted chock full with petunias, but cost-saving measures have reduced this to just the hanging baskets in recent years. The city is divided by the canal that connects the smaller lake with the great one, and a drawbridge links the two sections. Frequent in summer, the raising of the bridge results in not inconsiderable traffic congestion on the busy main street, which is also U.S. Highway 31. In 2022, the bridge was closed for hours due to a bomb threat, but this proved to be a hoax.² Bridge Street is lined on its western side with shops and restaurants, but the eastern side is mostly marina and parkland.

Pierre François Xavier de Charlevoix – a French Jesuit priest, explorer, and historian who traveled the Great Lakes in the early eighteenth century – is considered the first historian of New France, which included all of the Great Lakes until it was ceded to Great Britain and Spain in 1763.3 (Michigan would not be admitted to the union as a state until 1837.) Charlevoix (pronounced by the locals “Shar-le-voy”) is home today to a population of fewer than 3,000 souls, which swells many times over in summertime.⁴

Christ Episcopal Church, Charlevoix, Michigan (photograph by the author).

The population of surrounding Charlevoix County grows by almost half each summer;⁵ the discrepancy between permanent residents and summer visitors in the city itself is likely even higher. The northwestern part of Michigan’s lower peninsula has long welcomed tourists, particularly in the summer. Arriving by steamship or railroad, many moguls of the Midwest came from Detroit, St. Louis, and Chicago to escape the summer heat in the nineteenth century. For example, the Chicago Club – founded by members of the First Congregational Church in Chicago – describes itself thus:

The Chicago Summer Resort Company (also known as The Chicago Club) is a thirty-one-cottage association located on approximately forty acres within the City of Charlevoix, Michigan, and fronting on two lakes. Founded in 1881, the campus features beautiful grounds, four tennis courts, and a century-old clubhouse with a living room, dining room, and library. During season, dinner is served in our dining room on Sunday evenings and on occasional Saturdays. Members and renters enjoy a seven-acre scenic reserve island with walking trails, and a beachfront on Lake Charlevoix that includes a swimming dock, seasonal boat docks, a cabana, and other beach facilities, with a lifeguard on duty.⁶

The area served as summer home to the young Ernest Hemingway, whose family had a rustic cottage on nearby Walloon Lake. He affectionately referred to the city as “‘Voix.”⁷ Charlevoix is also home to a number of “mushroom houses,” designed and built by local realtor Earl A. Young (1889-1975). More than thirty of these stone structures with undulating cedar-shake roofs line Park Avenue, Boulder Avenue, and other locations.⁸ The city hosts an annual cherry festival and briefly boasted the honor of baking the world’s largest cherry pie. A monument to this, the gigantic pan still stands.⁹

Just outside the city proper, the Greensky Hill Indian United Methodist Church traces its history to a Native American called Shagasokicki – also known as Peter Greensky (1807-1866) – a Chippewa chief who converted to Christianity and founded the mission in 1844.¹⁰ The original unpainted wooden church seats about eighty. Some of Shagasokiki’s descendants still attend this church.

Charlevoix today also boasts an extraordinary public library.¹¹ Formerly serving as a school, the building was converted in 2006 in a partnership that included tax revenue and some two million dollars in private donations. In 1878, Charlevoix felt a sense of disgrace as it had no library. It first used the upstairs of a pool hall and cigar factory, and graduated through a modest Carnegie library into today’s complex facility, which includes a youth play area, a large room for community events, and a computer center. Thus, the current building serves as a major venue for public gatherings. For instance, your reviewer met Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg there as part of a failed attempt to elect local progressive candidates in 2022.

Charlevoix is also the location from which one embarks on a ferry to Beaver Island, less than thirty miles out in Lake Michigan – a journey lasting two hours. On this island in 1844, one Joseph Strang claimed to have been appointed the successor of Joseph Smith as leader of the Mormon church. After serving in the Michigan House of Representatives, Strang had himself proclaimed king (not just of the island but of the Kingdom of God), wearing a red flannel robe and tin crown. The island and its seasonal chapel may one day be covered in these pages.¹²

In 2019, the congregation of Christ Church celebrated the one hundred twenty-fifth anniversary of its founding. In a sermon preached on that occasion, the rector said this:

The economic depression that came to be known as the Panic of 1893 lasted for four years and was the worst at that point in American history. In all, over 500 banks failed, and almost 20,000 businesses declared bankruptcy. The unemployment rate in the state of Michigan was estimated to be as high as forty-five per cent. So what happened in the midst of all this economic dislocation and seeming hopelessness? Some crazy Episcopalians in Charlevoix, Michigan, decided to build a church.¹³

The priest connected the somewhat astounding circumstances under which the parish was founded with its current mission statement.¹⁴ Noting that the Diocese of Western Michigan’s population was half what it had been thirty years earlier, he mentioned the pending merger with the Diocese of Eastern Michigan—currently in progress.

He also mentioned that, in the early 2000s, “the people of Christ Church did it again,”¹⁵ and the congregation built a parish hall. This structure includes an elevator, a modern kitchen, a coffee station, a children’s play area, and accessible washrooms. Its connection to the church building may seem odd, but no other solution presented itself. When one stands in the church looking at the altar, the sacristy is found through a door on the right; this opens into the rector’s office, and that opens into the parish hall. On the left of the chancel, just past the organ console, is a larger corridor leading to the hall. After worship, most parishioners head up the aisle and into the parish hall, not outside through the narthex’s tower doors.

The white-painted church is of Carpenter Gothic style. Founded initially as a summer mission, Christ Church did not conduct worship year-round until 1942. By 1953, the mission presented a class of fourteen children for confirmation, and in the late 1960s, there were more than fifty children in the Sunday School. A photograph documents a mixed choir and a boy choir in 1956. The mission became a parish in 1980. Throughout all of this time, the population of Charlevoix never exceeded three thousand persons.¹⁶

The inside of the church has pews in the nave, and the chancel has room for just two chairs. The choir sings from one transept, and the electronic organ occupies the other. Behind the altar, inset in a wooded reredos, one finds five paintings entitled Shepherds on the Great Night. These were the work of a Chicago Club member.¹⁷ The altar has been moved forward about three feet so that the priest may preside across it, facing the people. Above the paintings there are five windows, now illuminated artificially, as the parish hall building abuts them. These and other stained-glass windows are abstract, not representational, and they provide pleasant hues of color during morning worship.

As to details of this modern-language Holy Eucharist: Arriving at about 9:35 a.m. for the ten-o’clock service, this reviewer finds the tower doors to the church locked; ditto one other side door. A fourth door – leading to a stairway to the parish hall – is, however, open. Entering here, a group of twenty or more are found busily preparing for a luncheon to follow the service. After several greeting and orientation moments and a brief kerfuffle about the color of the paraments, the service begins.

First, the organ plays a prelude, which is listed in the bulletin as I Vow to Thee by Gustav Holst (1874-1934). This is the hymn tune known as THAXTED, which was adapted from the “Jupiter” movement of The Planets by Holst. The familiar tune sets a poem by Cecil Spring-Rice (1859-1918); the poem is a patriotic musing about England, although it does not specifically mention that country by name. It has been programmed, perhaps, because the week coming includes the Veterans’ Day holiday, although the text would be more appropriate for our Memorial Day.¹⁸ Readers may never know for sure, as the organist has recently departed for southern climes for the winter. In his absence, he remotely programs the electronic organ to play music each week and has a parishioner cue the musical selections.

Next, a lay woman moves to the lectern and welcomes everyone – including today’s guest priest – and announces the opening hymn, which is “For all the saints” (SINE NOMINE, the rousing tune by Ralph Vaughan Williams—1872-1958). Sadly, the organist has programmed only four of the eight stanzas in The Hymnal 1982, so “soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest” and “But, lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day” will not be sung today. During the hymn, the priest and a server process down the aisle. There is no choir today. The church is comfortably full with perhaps fifty in attendance in a space with the capacity to hold about a hundred. There are even a few worshippers in the upstairs gallery at the rear.

After the Opening Acclamation and Collect for Purity, all sing the Gloria in excelsis to the familiar Robert Powell setting. During this, the organ inexplicably cuts out, but the congregation continues to sing with gusto. The priest then proclaims the Collect of the Day, which is for All Saints’ Day. The prayer book does prescribe that “All Saints’ Day may also be observed on the Sunday following November 1, in addition to its observance on the fixed date.”¹⁹ That language – like that of the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution – proves sufficiently vague as to allow the prevailing current practice, whereby All Saints’ Day is observed on the Sunday following November 1, but not observed on the fixed date. The noted liturgist and church historian William H. Petersen refers to this as “a peculiarity of Anglicans.”²⁰

All are seated fora reading from the Book of the Daniel (7:1-3, 15-18): “the holy ones of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever.” After this, Psalm 149 is recited responsively – sadly by half verse, wreaking violence on the poetry.

The psalm reading concludes with the Gloria Patri, something the late Marion Hatchett would abhor.²¹ Next follows a reading from the Blessed Apostle Paul’s letter to the Ephesians (1:11-23): “In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance.” All stand to sing “I sing a song of the saints of God” (GRAND ISLE). This is fortunate, as the guest priest will reference the poem’s author, Lesbia Scott (1898-1986), in his sermon. The other saints referenced will include Rumwold²² and a woman in the congregation who is turning ninety today.²³

Before the sermon, of course, the priest proclaims the Beatitudes (Luke 6:20-31) from the center of the chancel. After the sermon, all stand to recite the Nicene Creed. This is followed by the Prayers of the People (Form II), the Confession and Absolution, and the Peace. In place of a choir anthem, the congregation remains seated to sing “As saints of old their first-fruits brought,” listed as “Blue Hymnal 570.” Christ Church is among those still possessing The Hymnal 1982 in red livery, and the blue color refers to Worship and Rejoice, which the Methodist house Hope Publishing prints. The tune is the familiar FOREST GREEN.

Listed next in the bulletin is the Doxology, meant to be sung to the tune Lasst uns Erfreuen. The gentleman operating the organ, however, is unable to coax it to play anything, so the lay minister leads the congregation in the OLD HUNDREDTH. Before proclaiming Eucharistic Prayer A, the priest reads the list of names of the dearly departed, praying that they, and all the departed, through the mercy of God, may rest in peace. The Sanctus is sung in the Schubert setting. The organist recorded this at a very brisk tempo, so fast as to have just one beat per measure instead of three. This renders some of the harmony parts unmanageable. At the end of the prayer, the priest is surprised to hear the congregation sing “Amen,” which the organ accompanies.

After a recitation of the traditional form of the Lord’s Prayer, the priest breaks the bread – two small loaves of actual bread. He then proclaims the Pascha nostrum and invites the people to communion, which is served at the altar rail with the people mostly kneeling. During communion, some in the congregation sing various selections from Worship and Rejoice, “One bread, one body” and “Come, share the Lord.” After the first Post-Communion Prayer, the priest blesses the people in the All Saints form from the Book of Occasional Services, and all stand to sing “Rise up, ye saints of God!” (FESTAL SONG).

Following the hymn, the laywoman whose job it is today to make announcements, has congratulatory words for the women’s guild, whose harvest fair the previous day raised some four thousand dollars. This news is met with applause. The priest then offers a prayer for the birthday of the ninety-year-old (“O God, our times are in your hand”). He is surprised to have most of the congregation recite it along with him from memory. He then dismisses the people and moves to the corridor leading into the parish hall. The previous week, he stood in the narthex to greet people leaving that way, but no one did.

As the people move into the luncheon of quiche, salad, fruit, and festive drinks, the organ plays Trumpet Solo by “Roman.” While Charlevoix is far from your typical rural community, this congregation nevertheless faces challenges due to diminishing size – part-time clergy and pre-recorded music preeminently among them. However, the people of Christ Church face these with humor and a steadfast commitment to hold fast to the profession of their faith.

J. Barrington Bates                                        Harbor Springs, Michigan

¹ For more information on the “Keep Charlevoix Beautiful” efforts, see http://www.keepcharlevoixbeautiful.org/the-petunia-story.html, accessed 14 November 2022.
² https://www.petoskeynews.com/story/lifestyle/public-safety/2022/08/12/fbi-joins-hunt-find-charlevoix-bomb-hoax-suspect/10307036002/, accessed 18 November 2022.
³ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_France, accessed 14 November Land Policy Institute, Michigan State University 2022.
⁴ https://worldpopulationreview.com/us-cities/charlevoix-mi-population, accessed 14 November 2022.
⁵ Mary Beth Graebert, Mark Wyckoff, and Lauren Bretz, Northwest Michigan Seasonal Population Analysis (East Lansing, Michigan: Land Policy Institute at Michigan State University, 2014).
⁶ http://www.chicagoclub.org/Default.aspx?p=dynamicmodule&pageid=396788&ssid=310141&vnf=1, accessed 12 November 2022. Similar denominational associations exist throughout the area, including Bay View in Petoskey (Methodist), Wequitonsing (Presbyterian), and Harbor Point (Episcopalian), both in Harbor Springs.
⁷ https://www.visitcharlevoix.com/Ernest_Hemingway_, accessed 14 November 2022. Whether he pronounced it “Voah” (French) or “Voy” (American English) is unknown.
⁸ Charlevoix Historical Society, A Guide to the Early Young Structures in Charlevoix, the Beautiful (privately published, 2019).
⁹ Traverse City, about 50 miles to the south, also briefly held that record. The current record is held by Oliver, British Columbia. See https://www. roadsideamerica.com/story/29043, accessed 14 November 2022. Michigan is the top cherry-producing state in the United States.
¹⁰ See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greensky_Hill_church, accessed 19 November 2022.
¹¹ https://www.charlevoixlibrary.org/charlevoix-history/library-history/, accessed 14 November 2022.
¹² See https://www.northernexpress.com/news/feature/king-of-beaver-island/ and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Strang, both accessed 14 November 2022.
¹³ Thomas P. O’Dell, sermon preached for Christ Episcopal Church, Charlevoix, Michigan, 7 July 2019 (in the author’s possession).
¹⁴ “Christ Episcopal Church lives as a branch of the Episcopal ‘Jesus Movement’ in Northwest Michigan. Our prayerful response to Jesus’ grace inspires our faithful acts of love toward all people,” mission statement published online at https://christepiscopalchurch.net/, accessed 19 November 2022.
¹⁵ Ibid.
¹⁶ https://www.biggestuscities.com/city/charlevoix-michigan, accessed 26 November 2022. The city did achieve a population of 3,164 in the census of 1990, but it has since decreased.¹⁷ Debbie Crandall Stutzman, Marge Carey Kirinovic, and Anne Carey Stanley, compliers, Christ Episcopal Church: 125 Years Strong, 1894-2019 (privately published, 2019), 13.
¹⁸ The first stanza of the poem reads:

“I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,
entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love:
the love that asks no question, the love that stands the test, that lays upon the altar the dearest and the best;
the love that never falters, the love that pays the price, the love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice.”

¹⁹ The Book of Common Prayer [1979] (New York: Church Publishing, 2007), 15.
²⁰ William H. Petersen, “ What to Do When All Saints Sunday and Advent 1 Coincide“ (http://www.theadventproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/AllSaints Advent1Coincidence.pdf, accessed 14 November 2022).
²¹ Marion J. Hatchett, Commentary on the American Prayer Book (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1995), 327-328. Of the psalm, Hatchett says, “its integrity was never to be compromised by additions or by using it to cover actions.”
²² Rumwold (662-662) was born in Buckinghamshire, and died only three days later, “but not before repeating several times ‘I am a Christian,’ making a profession of faith in the Holy Trinity, and asking for Baptism and Holy Communion from the priests. . .. He then preached a sermon on the Holy Trinity and the need for virtuous living, freely citing Scripture and the Athanasian Creed.  The prodigious infant then expired”, from David Farmer, ed., The Oxford Dictionary of Saints, revised edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).
²³ Full disclosure: this reviewer served as guest priest at this service, which concluded the rector’s sabbatical leave.

The feast of the Resurrection proves an especially delightful time to attend worship at the University of Chicago’s spiritual center, the Rockefeller Memorial Chapel. The chapel has appeared in these pages before,¹ but that was during the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic, with its shut- down of in-person activities. This review attempts to capture a view of face-to-face worship in this formidable setting. The chapel sits in the middle of a stately series of gothic-style stone buildings, along the north side of the Midway Plaisance, a green space similar to the National Mall in Washington, D.C.

Visitors arriving for this Easter Day “broadly Christian liturgy”² are welcomed in the narthex by a smiling security guard wearing a mask. She informs them that masks are optional, and gestures toward the nave behind her. They take their seats among perhaps a dozen gathered, and hear a children’s choir rehearsing. The crowd will swell to well over six hundred, more than this chapel has seen in some time but still far less than its capacity of more than fifteen hundred. At 10:45 a.m., the organist begins his preludial music: Tocata by Giambattista Martini (1706–1784), Echo by Samuel Scheidt (1587–1654), Franc¸aise of Jean Langalais (1907– 1991), and Moderato from the Water Music of George Frederic Handel (1685–1759). While these pieces exhibit some of the mastery of the organist, they do not reveal the fullness of riches that the E. M. Skinner instrument has to offer.

A peal from the Laura Spelman Rockefeller Memorial Carillon follows. This is located up some 271 steps atop the tower at the crossing. This peal is neither tunes (these will come later) nor the sort of change ringing one hears primarily in England – but a lengthy and somewhat cacophonous and somehow also joyful “call to worship” for the university community.

The Rockefeller Memorial Chapel on the campus of the University of Chicago.
(Photograph by the author).

Next, the organist plays Processional by William Mathias (1934–1992). As this employs the trumpet en chamade from the rear gallery, one begins to hear more of what this organ can do.

The chapel dean then emerges from a side aisle to greet the congregation gathered, making a special note that small children are very welcome, and parents need not be fussed about any noise they might make.

“Disruption is an Easter noise,” he quips. The organ – now accompanied by brass and timpani – introduces the first hymn, “Jesus Christ is risen today” (Easter Hymn) as the choir of thirty undergraduates rushes breathlessly down the aisle. The choir members wear red academic robes with white chevrons. The dean – a priest of the Episcopal Church – comes last, wearing an alb with white chasuble and stole. He alone reverences the rather diminutive altar table.

The twenty-page service bulletin is one of the more elegant this reviewer has seen, and it contains all of the texts for today’s service as well as helpful rubrical notes. The dean begins with the Easter Acclamation, which is followed by the Gloria in excelsis, sung rather unsuccessfully in a setting by John Weaver. (In their position at the farthest end of the chancel from the congregation, the choir can barely be heard in the nave.) The Collect of the Day follows, and all are seated as the children take their places on the chancel steps. Accompanied by piano, they sing Clap Your Hands! (<Pueblos todos, aplaudan!), with somewhat surprising vigor and clarity. The congregation responds with enthusiastic applause.

A faculty member then reads Isaiah 65:17–25, and the choir moves to the chancel steps to sing an anthem of Edward Bairstow (1874–1946), Sing Ye, to the Lord. The faculty member then reads Acts 10:34–43, after which all stand to sing “The strife is o’er, the battle done” (Victory). All remain standing to hear the dean proclaim the gospel from the pulpit (Luke 24:1–12).

The dean’s sermon follows. It includes an amusing anecdote about his previous service at “the Chicago of the West,” when a diligent crew had trimmed palm trees for a grand celebration of Palm Sunday but another more diligent crew had discarded them. “‘Next year in Jerusalem,’ we said at the time,” hinting of a more lavish feast to come – and not just at Stanford, but for all humanity in the resurrection. “Easter joy is a proleptic joy,” he says, igniting much curiosity among the faithful and conversation after the service.

After a pause for reflection, all stand as the dean leads the Prayers of the People. These follow Form VI of the Book of Common Prayer, with a welcome added petition: “For this university community; for all who teach and learn.” An exchange of the Peace follows, with most nodding, waving, or smiling – but a few shaking hands or hugging.

The organist then improvises on O filii et fillae as an offertory, as three young men pass baskets among the pews. This is followed by the hymn “The day of resurrection” (sung to Lancashire, a somewhat strange marriage of tune and text to these ears). Next comes Eucharistic Prayer B,

with a masterfully sung preface. The choral Sanctus and Benedictus come from the Mass for the Quiet Hour of George Oldroyd (1886–1951). The Lord’s Prayer is sung (Elizabethan language, in the familiar plainsong set- ting from The Hymnal 1982, adapted by Charles Winfred Douglas). The dean breaks the bread, and the resonant young voices of the choir sing a plainsong fraction anthem.

“All are welcome to receive Holy Communion in keeping with your own conscience and custom,” the service bulletin tells us, and most of the more than two hundred worshipers come forward to receive the bread. The dean alone distributes communion (his assistant has yet to be hired); while this takes some considerable time, it does allow him personal pastoral contact with each communicant. During communion, the choir sings Rise up, My Love, My Fair One of Healey Willan (1880–1968), and the organist plays Christ lag in Todesbanden, BWV 625 of Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750). Only four of the choir come forward for communion. The organist improvises briefly, employing the organ’s zimbelstern (note: this organ has two, one in the chancel and one at the rear of the nave).

The post-communion prayer is taken from Common Worship of the Church of England. This is followed by the Easter blessing from the Book of Occasional Services and a sung dismissal with alleluias. The closing hymn is “Good Christians all, rejoice and sing!” (Gelobt sei Gott) in a version from the Pilgrim Hymnal of 1958. During the hymn, the choir has rushed out, causing the dean to cantor up the aisle.

The first postlude is Gelobt set Gott of Healey Willan, which is followed by a carillon recital lasting nearly half an hour. This includes six Easter hymns and two pieces to mark the arrival of spring. The vernal season, incidentally, seems to have arrived during the service: what had been an overcast, windy, and cold day beforehand is now sunny, still, and warm as the dean greets his flock outside.

Except fora few minor exceptions – such as the lack of a proclamation of the Nicene Creed – this liturgy could easily be replicated in many an Episcopal Church today. Texts came from the prayer book, the shape of the liturgy followed the Episcopal rite (and ecumenical consensus), and emendations echoed those approved by General Convention. The only quibbles this reviewer notes are the size of the communion table (far too small for such a grand space) and the speed of the processions (which would be mitigated by the return to having them led by a crucifer – or at least a verger).

The dean says that the tradition in this chapel is for worship to con- form mostly to the denomination of the incumbent dean. After the

service, he shows these visitors his desk space just off the chancel. One could not reasonably call this either an office or a sacristy – as the only windows are well above eye level and the only closet is sufficient for hanging a Geneva gown but hardly suitable for a full set of chasubles and stoles. The room does, however, have many bookshelves.

If “proleptic joy” refers to our current delight anticipatory to heavenly bliss, this service helped foster such expectant hope. It also served as anamnesis, not simply a passive remembering but efficacious participation in the paschal mystery: recalling not only Jesus’ resurrection but also the sort of in-person worship one remembers from the pre-pandemic era. In this, the congregation at the Rockefeller Memorial Chapel showed forth some of the fullness of God’s glory, being of diverse age, color, size, shape, and liturgical ability.

J. Barrington Bates                                           Harbor Springs, Michigan

¹ J. Barrington Bates, “Built for Something Better: A Podcast for Coronatide,” Anglican and Episcopal History 90:2 (June 2021).
² From the service bulletin of the day.

St. Aidan’s, Bolinas, is not easy to find. If you are driving north from the Golden Gate Bridge on California Highway 1, Bolinas is on a side road to the left, but the turn is unmarked. They say the highway department has put up signs, but the locals have taken them down. That tells you something. If you know your way and find the correct turn, you will come in a few miles to a weather-beaten village such as you might find along the New England coast on Cape Cod or in Maine. There’s a pro- duce store on the main street and another one hidden behind it where you will find products not easily available in your neighborhood super- store such as agave fiber wash for clothes, organic cake cones, and Japanese sweet potatoes.

St. Aidan’s is on a side street and not well marked. It sits well back from the street behind a trellised lychgate. Looking as weather beaten as most of the other stores and houses in town, you might think it had been there forever, but in fact it was erected less than fifty years ago and consecrated by Bishop James A. Pike. It retains something of the questioning, eccentric flavor associated with that bishop.

At 9:50 a.m., on a shining Easter Day, the church, once found, stood open and welcoming. Only four or five of the forty seats were occupied, and the vicar, fully vested, stood in the aisle chatting with parishioners and welcoming new arrivals. A woman wandered down to the front left, sat down at the piano, poked at a few keys, and left again. More people arrived. When it was 10:00 a.m., the vicar said, “Good morning!” and “Welcome!” and announced that we would begin by singing “The Light of Christ” three times on successively higher notes while she held a short, thick, lighted candle, and we did. She also announced an opening hymn, but the pianist had disappeared. The vicar walked back to the front door looking for the pianist, who returned, sat at the piano, and gave us a belated prelude before accompanying the opening hymn, “Jesus Christ is ris’n today.” All but two or three of the forty seats were now filled and the singing was hearty.

The lychgate at St. Aidan’s Church, Bolinas, California
(photo by the author; re-printed by permission).

Light from the east window created a cross-shaped pattern on the west (liturgical east) wall of the church behind the altar and moved slowly to the right until it briefly aligned with the cross on the wall behind the altar before moving on. The voices of children playing in a small tree outside the open front door could be heard.

The Gloria was sung to a simple and familiar tune, and the vicar then called on the congregation to say the Collect of the Day in unison. A member of the congregation went to the lectern and read the Hebrew Bible lesson from the Prophet Isaiah. Another member, in the front row, then stood and explained how the psalm verses were to be said antiphonally and assured us, “You’ll figure it out.” After that, the Epistle was read from the lectern. Hymn 199, “Come, ye faithful, raise the strain,” was sung and the gospel was read by the vicar.

All then sat, including the vicar who was presiding from a plain wooden chair placed directly in front of the altar. The sermon, delivered without notes, wandered around a number of subjects – Buddhist meditation, science, life in general – raising questions that were not always answered, but, as they say, “It gave us a lot to think about.” One sentence that stuck in this listener’s mind was, “The church wants us to believe that love has triumphed, but we know better.” Resurrection was questioned – though strongly affirmed in the liturgy – and life was proclaimed.

The usual practice following the sermon at St Aidan’s is to pass a simple wooden cross from hand to hand around the congregation and each holder in turn is invited to make some comments about the sermon. In the usual congregation of twenty or so, that’s feasible. For an Easter congregation nearer forty, we were gratified to hear that it would be omitted. Instead, we moved directly to the Nicene Creed and a peremptory intercessory prayer was led by a lay reader. (Peremptory in that it told God what to do rather than asking God to do it: “Forgive us and all people,” “Bring your peace to the world,” “Guide Christians everywhere,” “Reassure those who are troubled by doubts  ”) The petitions built on various resurrection appearances to invoke God’s blessing as appropriate. The statement that “Your Son appeared to Mary Magdalene as she was grieving,” for example, led to a demand that God “Comfort those who are sad, lonely, or grieving now.”

The Peace was exchanged – almost everyone greeted almost everyone – and we were asked to rehearse the elaborate setting for the dismissal before launching into an Offertory Hymn, “At the Lamb’s high feast we sing.” The Sursum Corda was sung toa tune that seemed familiar, though it isn’t in The Hymnal 1982. The Eucharistic Prayer had familiar para- graphs as well as unfamiliar ones – possibly from supplemental materials with which your observer is unfamiliar. The closing paragraph was sung and so was a seven-fold Amen, the music for which was provided in the service leaflet. “Christ our Passover” was sung at the Fraction and the leaflet provided the full setting, which was not in the hymnal. The leaf- let also provided an Invitation and response. Invitation: “The gifts of God for the People of God.” Response: “May we be found in Christ and Christ in us.”

During Communion, the members of the congregation made their way to the head of the crowded, narrow aisle where the vicar and a lay member stood with the chalice and paten. Meanwhile a member of the congregation came forward to the piano and sang Hymn 186, “Christ Jesus lay in death’s strong bands.” The words are by Martin Luther and the music by Johann Sebastian Bach, but the feeling conveyed was somber and somehow more Lenten than Easter-y.

The post-Communion prayer and blessing were unfamiliar but brief and appropriate. The closing hymn, “He is risen, he is risen,” was familiar and well sung – but not as familiar and joyous in your reviewer’s opinion as “Jesus Christ is ris’n today” with its four-fold alleluias in every stanza.

The hymn being ended, we sang the elaborate dismissal that we had rehearsed at the Offertory and the vicar then walked down the aisle to greet us between the door and the lychgate as we stepped out into the brilliant sunshine.

Christopher Webber                                 All Saints’ Church, San Francisco