Cathedral Hopper?

Sunday morning I walked down Thomas Street to attend sung Eucharist at Christ Church. Not the same substitute as church at home but it was nice to get out of the hostel for awhile. While the service was not what I am accustomed too, as I am good at following directions, I got along fine. The choir sounded amazing in the space. As I struggled along, sight reading the hymns I began to miss singing with the Concert Choir. The church was only half filled 15 minutes after service began. Mostly soggy tourist like myself, trying to extract ourselves from the sticky wooden seats while gripping our damp leaflets. By the time the Eucharist was given I was done drip drying and had finally gotten the whole sit-stand pattern down.

Following service I was invited into the crypt for tea with the 'Friends of Christ Church' organization. I had left Anna and Erin relaxing at the hostel so I wasn't sure about wandering down to some crypt?!? The stone steps seemed to go on for ages, past damp statues and grave markers. I ducked around the corner and noticed the table spread with coffee, tea and biscuits. A few ministers and choir members were mingling with the few that had wandered down. After being approached by a dean? he directed me to Jason, a seminary student from Philly. It was nice hearing about the city from another American. He was finishing his PhD from Trinity and had lived in Dublin for 9 years. I returned to the hostel without much to say, the experience was nice, but in a way that isn't printed in tourism books.

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Today, Sunday the 28th we raced to Westminster Abby for the 1100 service. Out of breath we noticed sung Eucharist began at 1115 so we caught our breath and stepped in a bit more dignified.
"To the Left" we were directed and I looked nearby for seats. While at Christ Church I had been seated only a few yards from the door. However, we continued walking, walking, and walking into a small alcove the left of the pulpit. The size of the church reflected the sound of the choir. The melody was very intricate and complicated to listen too. I tried to imagine what part I would I would be singing if I belonged to such a choir, but my imagination couldn't stretch that far. The sermon practical example centered around the Puritan witch hunts and over-emphasized how much Christians criticize sin. She spoke again and again about being tolerant and being merciful. All I could think of was how little it mattered to our salvation regarding how we felt about each others sin. It seems to me that I should have a better idea of how God felt about it. Luckily there were very organized communion lines to get the masses of people through.

We skipped over to St. Paul’s for 1515 service. To be honest, we were practically running again. We got to the rear of the church and stood among the crowd (near the sign that said, no tourist on Sunday) and wondered how to get in. Me, being the assertive one, walked to the usher to get us seated. If we went though so much sweat and rush to get there, I certainly wasn't going to turn back around and leave.
Seated midsong we found our place in the program. This service was less participatory than the previous sung Eucharist’s I had attended. We listened to the choir (of which a quarter were boys under the age of 8) and sermon. I confess, I cannot recall what the sermon was about, only that it was sweetly short. The arrangements of the chairs was much more comfortable for me. They were positioned in a familiar half-circle in the center portico facing the choir and pulpit.

At this point I think I have had enough Anglican church services for a year. I confess, the feeling of purposely walking through the confused milling crowd is pretty satisfying. It's opposite of the mindset I have at home. Usually church is in a pretty shoddy neighborhood and you can guarentee no milling crowd outdoors. At least not for long, I'm sure the ushers would find a way to get them all inside. I also miss being a part of the service. I enjoy singing with congregation, saying my own prayer and standing/sitting at my own leisure.