"Ratatouille" wasn't the only highlight of yesterday (Sunday). I also went back to the Church of the Holy Apostles, "my church" I suppose. It was lovely! I'd forgotten what it sounds like when a congregation of well intentioned people with American vowels sings all four parts of a hymn - at St. Peter's, only the choir gets the SATB score. (I did catch myself doing Australian vowels at various points: poth rather than path, Lohhhd rather than Lowered, etc.!) And I'd forgotten what it sounds like to hear a sermon preached by a woman.I'm not sure what it is about Holy Apostles that so appeals to me. I'm not actually close to very many people there, though it's nice to see familiar faces (and more than I expected welcomed me back like the prodigal son). I like the liturgy but even more I think experiencing liturgy in a space which has several lives - Mondays through Fridays the Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen serves 1300+ lunches in the same space where we worship on Sunday, and, on Friday nights, Congregation Beth Simchat Torah. This multi-purposiveness is "New York City" to me (though most other places do it serially, or out of financial necessity) but also religiously meaningful: a sacredness maintained and even enhanced not by cordoning itself off from the profane but by welcoming it in.
The window (you can just make out Descent of the Holy Ghost in the lettering above) is one of Holy Apostles' jewel-like rondels, stacked three high around the otherwise white church; click on it to see the central etching (?) and how it's bravely holding on despite having been shattered at some stage in its long history.
