two visits to St. Mark's

( what I wrote about St. Mark's when I went the first summer I lived in Philadelphia )

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Today
Last night I went to evening prayer at St. Mark's again. I was the only person there, aside from the lay officiant who was leading, which was nerve-wracking until I'd bobbled a few times and realized he wasn't going to be annoyed, but would just prompt me and keep going. I don't know if he fluffed the Magnificat because I rattled him or simply to make me feel better, but we grinned at each other across the chancel, backed up and started again. I'm still not best pleased with the pace they seem to favor taking things, because it feels like the very worst evangelical nightmare of liturgy when people start muttering "hailmaryfullofgracethelordiswiththee" as if the subtext is "I say these words not because they have any inherent meaning but because the repetition has some kind of magical effect... A-men." When I had a handle on things, though, it was lovely, our two voices in the dim vaulted church.