road show

I’m getting ready for my last big liturgical road show.  Tomorrow, all three congregations are meeting in Tighnabruaich, which normally only has resources for a dozen people.  So, my props list looks like this:

  1. palms & plate
  2. alb, stole, maniple, chasuble
  3. chalice, paten, linens
  4. wine, wafers
  5. orders of service
  6. Passion booklets
  7. president’s copy
  8. Holy Week service times
  9. Order of service for worship leaders for monday (Rothesay)
  10. music for Monday
  11. Magnificat setting
  12. non-PN readings
  13. Draft Stations for Friday (Rothesay)
  14. advent wreath

(that last one is there just because I know I will forget something, so…)

Those in the know should hope that this year’s reading of the Passion will not be as dramatic as last year’s.

9 thoughts on “road show

  1. first, a note on this year:
    the new strategy worked. The advent wreath stayed in Dunoon, but everything else made it to Tighnabruaich. It’s only taken me three years to figure out I must plan for forgetfulness…

    Last year: woke up, not feeling great; no problem: it was a familiar sort of unwell, and I know adreneline deferrs the symptoms long enough to get through the service and most of coffee. But, it was a big day in Dunoon, with an important something happening that I had to get right. I got it right. Then the adreneline levels crashed, as if I were through for the day.

    Off to Tighnabruaich for a joint service. The C of S had well-meaningly turned the church into a hot-house.
    At the start of the Passion, I thought ‘I’m really not feeling well…. but nevermind.’ On we went, me as narrator and Rosemary as Jesus. A third of the way in: ‘I’m really not feeling well… but nevermind’. Two-thirds of the way through ‘no, I’m not going to make it…’

    So, I scanned ahead and found a long Jesus speach. In the narrator’s bit before, I walked slowly but determinedly to the Shakeperian actor (-ess) sitting the congregation. As my line ended and Rosemay spoke, I hissed to the actor: take over, here…

    And neither she nor Rosemary missed a beat. I could hear the passion being read as I fled from worship, removed my chasuble and was indeed sick. Then, back I went, just in time to start the prayers after the silence.

    Rosemary had to take the chalice too — I was still shaking too much to be trusted with wine.

    This year — my broken down car meant that I got a lift and was car sick by the time I got there. But we took strategic action and opened all the doors to make the church cool down.

    All was well, and the woman who last year became narrator did a stunningly hushed Marcan Jesus, in contrast to Rosemary’s Lucan-intensity.

    (aren’t you glad you asked…)

  2. I AM glad! It’s a great story although I’m sure it was harrowing enough to live through. Well done for getting the chasuable off in a timely way.

  3. I wish so much I had been there – and only Kimberly would be open to lay women as Jesus. My friend will have been superb.

    It did change the dynamic, having another narrator.

    I so used to love casting the Passion – one could bring out such nuances.

  4. ‘only Kimberly would be open to lay women as Jesus’.

    At St Mary’s, for the last couple of years anyway, the congregation – obviously, including many lay women – reads the words of Jesus. Although it certainly would have a different effect to have the voice of Jesus be a solo female voice.

  5. This is definitely the time of year I need serious lists, and I’m only playing either piano/organ or clarinet (useful for processions, is my clarinet!) for three services. As opposed to last year, when I preached all week.

  6. traditionally, Elizabeth, the role of Jesus is read by the priest.

    That feels all wrong to me.

    But I have control issues of my own, in that I usually keep the narrator’s part.

  7. In my St Paul’s days, it was one of the lay services I always arranged, and I too always took the narrator. I think it right that the manipulative voice of the biographer should belong to the person responsible for the service.

    I asked permission for St Paul’s to do a dramatised passion after one year when the president was a priest and he lost his voice during the service. I asked (yes, believe it or not I did ask! Not just act) if he would like me to take over and he was grateful – I read it all, and enjoyed it, but knew that had to be the last time. Even reading it,I knew that the listener’s attention would lapse however it was read.

    It made a good lay-led service – much better than the usual mattins. We have some staggering talent at St Paul’s.

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