Holy Week – London Edition

Hello, dear Readers!

So much has happened since I’ve last written—I do hope you’ve been enoying your days as much as I have.  🙂

As to be expected when I’m living in London, Holy Week was a bit different this year. Since the dates usually coincided with my undergraduate exams, 2015 wasn’t the first year that I celebrated without my family.  But it was the first time that I’ve celebrate it in a foreign country. And it was made particularly special because I was joined by my boyfriend, Ben Brejle.

After Ben’s 8 time zone, 15 hour journey from Seattle, he requested a quick rest to see if he could ease his (literal) red eye. His tour of London began with a walk to Covent Garden… where I had to retrieve my boots, Birkenstocks, and coat from the Shoe Cobbler/Dry Cleaner.  One thing that I may have failed to mention in my ‘first impressions’ post is that Londoners where nice shoes. This may seem like a silly observation, but seriously—doesn’t matter whether you are walking with a brief case in the banking district, busking in the tube station, or sitting on the bridge with a coffee cup as a coin collector—you have solid shoes. Makes sense with all the walking they do!

With an itty-bitty flat and an itty-bitty wardrobe, I’ve tried my best to keep my shoe selection small and up to London standards.  My two favorite pairs are my lime green Birkenstocks (a birthday gift to myself during undergrad) and brown leather boots (this year’s Christmas gift from my parents).  Two days before Ben was set to arrive, I realized that the click in my boot heel was caused by a rock wedged in the hole that I had (unknowingly) worn probably caused by the miles of walking I did on cobblestone paths in Rome. Since shoe cobblers are pretty rare in my hometown, I was slightly irritated at the envisioned hassle that it would take to repair these. Good news though—since people have nice shoes here, cobblers (and dry cleaners) are almost as common as barbers. And since they have to the competition is strong, service is quick and prices are relatively inexpensive as far as London goes. Woo hoo!

Anyway, after a quick exchange at the cupboard of a store  we continued our walking tour from Covent Garden: The Royal Opera House, KCL’s Strand Campus, Twinings tea shop, the Royal Courts of Justice, KCL’s Maughan Library… all the way to St Etheldreda’s parish for Maundy Thursday (Holy Thursday) mass with a few minutes to spare.  Good thing Ben has a long stride!

 

Holy Thursday

On Holy Thursday, Catholics remember Jesus’ Last Supper and the Institution of the Eucharist.  Another special aspect of this service is the foot-washing ceremony, were we specifically recall Jesus’ exemplary teaching  of servant leadership.

 13 “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. 14 Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. 15 I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. (John 13:13-15)

From my experience, the foot-washing ceremony is the part that varies the most between parishes.  For example, growing up at St Mary Star of the Sea in Jackson, MI, 12 parishioners (representing the 12 apostles) would be asked ahead of time to have their feet washed on Holy Thursday.  They were selected to represent the many faces of our parish community: young, elderly, pregnant, newly widowed, recovering from a round of chemo, etc. The priest would take off the fancy outer vestments, and go around with a bowl, pitcher of water, and towel to wash the feet of these individuals seated wherever they were in the church.  As a kid, I was captivated by this ceremony, feeling I had won front row tickets to a special when when one of the 12 happened to be sitting pretty close to our family.

St Mary Student Parish (SMSP) in Ann Arbor had 4 or 5 priests who said ~8 masses each weekend, and the physical church, which is comparatively small for the amount of parishioners they have, is often standing room only on Holy Thursday since there is only 1 mass offered.  At SMSP all the priests participate in the foot washing ceremony and they invite everybody else forward as well.  It becomes a sort of pay it forward chain of foot washing. Even though there are multiple foot-washing stations, since everyone is involved, it takes a bit longer—say 5-6 pieces of music instead of 3-4 in Jackson.

With these two very different examples in mind, I was a bit alarmed when we walked into St Etheldreda’s church and the usher approached Ben to ask if he would like his feet washed. I was unaccustomed to this on the spot recruitment method, but within 60 seconds we were both seated in one of the 12 foot washing seats. I soon began regretting the decision to pick up my boots before mass—it is not particularly easy to hide anything (least of all a large box of boots) when you are seated on the high altar.

Apart from the mass being in Latin (something rather uncommon in the US after Vatican II in the 1960s) the rest of Holy Thursday proceeded rather typically. After mass we continued our walking tour to London Bridge and routed us by my favorite grocery store so we could purchase food before most of the shops closed for the Easter weekend.

 

Good Friday

Good Friday was a bit more unique.  At 12pm, we watched a passion play in Trafalgar Square, the same location where I participated in the city’s celebration of Diwali this fall. I am terrible at estimating crowds, but the article that I saw stated that we were among 20,000 at the noon performance and another 20,000 attended the one later that afternoon. Post-play we made our way through the various parks en route to the South Kensington borough at which point Ben was growing more and more skeptical of his ‘jetlag’ fatigue. Good thing the pharmacy was still open!

Still wanting to make the most of his time in London, he suggested an evening service at St Paul’s (Anglican) Cathedral under the condition that he might call it quits if he started feeling any worse. I had never been to St Paul’s, which Anglophiles may know from watching Prince Charles and Princess Diana’s wedding in 1981. This Anglican service was pretty similar to Catholic Good Friday services that I’ve been to in the past except that the (loooong) gospel reading was sung and thus, lasting about three times longer normal. And being in London, there were some might fine dress hats among the attendants.

A soft drizzle greeted us after the service at which point we decided it was a good time to make some dinner and hot tea to ease Ben’s developing cough. After he spiked a 103F fever I started prepping for the worst by reading the guidelines for ‘Accident and Emergency’ (the NHS’s version of our ER) whilst trying to quash the A&E horror stories that I remember surfacing during my Foundations of Social Science, Health, and Medicine course last year.

 

Holy Saturday

Thankfully Ben began to feel a lot better by Saturday which supported my plans for markets & museums during the day, a taste of London’s famed Indian food for dinner, and an evening on the 32nd floor of the Shard with live music and a smidge of dancing. 🙂 🙂

20150404_230520

 

Easter Sunday

On Easter morning, we gave South Kens another attempt with 10am mass at Brompton Oratory. In the States, Easter mass is usually a… full sensory experience.  Fresh lilies, incense, special music (and tons of it—many songs for prelude and postlude), starchy sun dresses, clip-on ties… Whether you look at it from a religious perspective or as a neutral third party, it is a BIG deal.

Not so much at this mass. There may have been one piece of prelude music. And after the children’s choir sang the Gloria in Latin, the 1st Reading, Psalm, 2nd Reading, Sequence, and Gospel were all read by the priest in quick succession.  Communion was organized in the ‘European’ way—no obvious queue until you reach the Communion rail. Shortly after the priest and other Eucharistic ministers began retreating to the tabernacle to store the excess consecrated hosts, crowds of people began developing on either side of the main pews. “Did all of those people manage to miss Communion?”  Nope, they’re just ready to get a seat for quickly approaching 11am Latin mass.  In and out, folks, in and out.

Post-mass we soaked up some Easter sunshine on our way through Hyde Park and took advantage of the photo opp that the flowering trees presented. We also made time for an afternoon tea before heading to the Barbican for James MacMillan’s St Luke Passion performed by the Britten Sinfonia. This was a brand new piece with a timing premier over Easter weekend. As a violinist, I felt the percussive use of the string orchestra was less than desirable, but Ben (trombonist) provided a more positive review.   We stayed for the post-concert discussion with MacMillan (composer & conductor) as well as 3 other academics with focus areas including both religion and music which satiated the more intellectual pleasure of listening to a musical performance… and gave me some great memories of Musicology at UM.  Kind of funny since that is where Ben and I first met. (We were the two engineers in that class that were also enthused about classical music haha.)

The walk– both in Hyde park during the afternoon and on the way back from the Barbican in the evening– provided a good opportunity for some reflection time of the last few days as well as the last few months. I’ve now been living in London for 8 months, but for the first time in a long time felt… like I was experiencing something quite new. I mean this in both the positive sense (Let’s see London from 32 floors up! And listen to a world premiere!) as well as not-so-positive (What lies at the core of my frustration with the rushed Easter mass?). As my elders like to remind me, this is life. And as I’ve discovered for myself, I would much rather ride out the high and low tide than breed disease in stagnant water.

Here’s a toast to the crazy days, the plain-ole-boring days, and the people that make experiencing either of those a wonderful adventure.

Cheers,

Andrea

Featured Image: Walking across Blackfriars Bridge, St Paul’s

Advertisements

Dearest Darlingest Momsie and Popsicle

Although there hasn’t been any confusion over rooming at Shiz, and I haven’t yet seen Wicked in London[1], this week did bring a lot of excitement with thoughts of Momsie, Popsicle, and other family things. 

Last Sunday (March 15) was Mothers’ Day in the UK. After I finished my slight panic that I had somehow missed the whole month of April I learned that, although marketed quite similarly, this “Mothering Sunday” [2] is not associated with the US version of the holiday.  The priest at St Etheldreda’s Parish cleared this up during his homily and also connected this to the 21st C rendition of giving special thanks to our earthly mums as well as Mary, Mother of Jesus.

20150118_093847
St Etheldreda’s Parish, the oldest Roman Catholic church in London. Read more about it at: http://www.stetheldreda.com

We happened upon the Latin mass (far more common here in London than it is back home in the US) complete with choir and string quartet. Music included Eberlin’s Missa brevis in a, Palestrina’s Laudate Dominum, and (holiday appropriate) Johann Michael Haydn’s Ave Maria. As my mom likes to say, this is what I imagine heaven will sound like. 🙂

On Wednesday evening, after heading to Westminster Cathedral for daily mass, my cousin and I realized we were again celebrating a special feast– St Joseph’s Day.  Although this might make us sound like rather clueless Catholics, this was actually a vigil feast for St Joseph whose feast day is celebrated on March 19. We were again accompanied by beautiful music (this time organ + all male choir) and this time reflected on the gift of dads.

Westminster Cathedral
Westminster Cathedral

Although the mass ran longer than anticipated, we still had enough time to make the English Chamber Orchestra concert at Cadogen Hall (where I attended Joshua Bell’s performance this fall). This opened with Beethoven’s Leonora, featured an Italian soloist (Gloria Campaner) on Schumann’s piano concerto, and closed with Mendelssohn’s Scottish symphony. I don’t know that I’ve ever had such an excellent view of the stage– I could trace the musician’s eye contact and even follow the music on the last stand of cellists. Such a treat!

Following along with the last stand of cellists :)
Following along with the last stand of cellists 🙂

I also had a few good reminders of the significance of grandparents in recent weeks:

(a) Pope Francis’ address when I was in Rome: “We continue our reflection on grandparents, considering the value and importance of their role in the family. I do so by placing myself in their shoes, because I too belong to this age group. When I was in the Philippines, the Filipino people greeted me saying “Lolo Kiko” — meaning Grandpa Francis — “Lolo Kiko”, they said! The first important thing to stress: it is true that society tends to discard us, but the Lord definitely does not!… (Continue reading at the Vatican website.)

(b) The recent Social Science, Health, and Medicine seminar lecture on “Grandparenting in Europe and the Health Impacts of Caring for Grandchildren” presented by KCL’s Professor Karen Glaser (who coincidentally has ties to University of Michigan!)  There were a number of really interesting (and quite nuanced) findings discussed. ie: Caring for grandchildren on a ‘part-time’ basis (~15 hr / wk) has positive effects for grandparents’ health and well-being. The research has the potential to shape policy for work /retirement / compensation plans for the ever-growing older population. Since I’m looking at this with younger eyes, I’m curious to see if this could impact decisions around maternity / paternity leave as well as suggested work hours for working mums and dads. (Read more on the Grandparents Plus website.)

(c) Letter writing with my own grandparents. 🙂

The Valentine letter I received. Included an interesting WSJ article about med schools. :)
The Valentine letter I received. Included an interesting WSJ article about med schools. 🙂

Sometimes I’m pretty dense, so with just these occurrences this post may not have developed like this. But alas, I also saw Matilda, a special West End treat that I’ve been saving for viewing with my cousin Cecilia and her housemate Hailey.  (So glad the rush tickets worked out– we were the last few in queue to receive the special £5 student rate!!)

Cici & Hailey
Cici & Hailey

I hadn’t refreshed myself on Matilda’s plot since I watched the movie and read the book in grade school, but even if I would have, the theatre version deviates a bit from this. For example opening number “Miracle” features the soloists in the children’s Chorus each singing how “my mummy says I’m a miracle / my daddy says I’m a special little guy” regardless of whether they are acting sweet as angels or throwing tantrums at the moment.  This is juxtaposed with Matilda’s mother, shown at the hospital inquiring why she has become 9 months “fat” and whether or not it can be fixed before her dancing competition that evening. The doctor has the ‘joy’ (responsibility) of informing her of the situation:

DOCTOR
You’re nine months pregnant!

MRS WORMWOOD
Antibiotics, or . . . Oh, my good Lord! What about the Bi-Annual International Amateur Salsa and Ballroom Dancing Championships?

DOCTOR
A baby, Mrs Wormwood. A child. The most precious gift the natural world can bestow upon us has been handed to you. A brand new human being! A life. A person. A wonderful new person is about to come into your life to bring love, and magic, and happiness, and wonder!

MRS WORMWOOD
Oh, bloody hell!

DOCTOR
Every life I bring into this world
Restores my faith in human kind.

Each newborn life a canvas yet unpainted,
This still, unbroken skin,
This uncorrupted mind.

Ev-er-y life is unbelievably unlikely.
The chances of existence almost infinitely small.

The most common thing in life is life . . .

And yet every single life,
Every new life
Is a miracle!
Miracle!

MRS WORMWOOD
This is the worst day of my life! [3]

The audience watched with wide-eyed silence. No nervous or obligatory laughter. In fact, the applause at the end of the scene (where Matilda first enters to sing that her parents say she is “a lousy little worm”, “a bore”, “a good case for population control”…) was even a little hesitant as if the mums & dads were questioning whether or not it was a good idea to bring their little tykes to the theatre.

One might argue that this is theatre at it’s best! Inviting the audience into the world on stage!

Perhaps. But it would also make an good topic for a Bioethics lecture or dissertation: how are topics relevant in bioethics (ie: reproduction, pregnancy, child-birth) represented in popular culture or fictional literature? How do these representations impact our understanding of bioethics in ‘real life’? Some suggest that the provide us with warnings (ie: when I mentioned the Island when thinking about Maternal Spindle Transfer.) But we also hear suggestions that we are rather un-impacted by these sources: ‘those are clearly science fiction’ or ‘creating a Gattaca-esque world is not on our radar’, etc.  I already have my final papers in motion for the rest of the year, but this might fuel some free-time reading.

ASB

PS: In Christian traditions, today is Palm Sunday– the beginning of Holy Week, the holiest time in the Church calendar. It’s admittedly an odd thought that I’ll be apart from my family during this time, but celebrating in London presents a unique opportunity beginning with sung mass this evening at St Mary’s in Chelsea. Furthermore, I feel incredibly blessed to be welcoming my boyfriend Ben Brelje to London on Maundy Thursday and then greeting my sister Gretchen and dear friend Joan Campau right after the Octave of Easter is finished.  Very much looking forward to playing hostess, but this also means that I’ll be taking a break from writing for a bit. To keep the blog going in the mean time, I’ll try to prep some exclusively picture posts from earlier adventures that I haven’t been able to publish yet.  So as Grandma Berkemeier taught us, to be continued… xx

Footnotes:

[1] One of my favorite musicals!  But since I’ve seen it before in the States, it isn’t as high on my list as other performances.

[2] If you’re unfamiliar with this 4th Sunday of Lent holiday like I was, you can read a quick history on Wikipedia.

[3] I removed some parts of the script for reading purposes. Feel free to check out the whole thing HERE.

Featured Image: Stumbled upon Geraldine Street on a chilly walk back from Vauxhall. This is a toast to the lovely Geraldines in my life: Grandma (Geri) Gaydos as well as the coolest kid sister (Gigi) anyone could ask for. 🙂 Love you both!