Why we have rubrics

The purpose of liturgical law, rubrics, and tradition is... to prevent the arbitrary exercise of power.

But what to do when such rules are completely ignored and treated like they are ... irrelevant to the choices made over the structure of the liturgy?
(Jeffrey Tucker, in "How to Criticize Liturgical Music," Sacred Music v. 139 no. 2 [summer 2012], p. 61)

For many years, I worked in non-liturgical congregations: Baptists, then a southern Presbyterian congregation that in those days was thoroughly non-liturgical. That has changed since I left, perhaps in part because of my seventeen years of work among them, laying groundwork that made it possible for a new minister to introduce the Revised Common Lectionary and other innovations.

But of course there is always "liturgy." It simply goes by other names: "The order of service," or "How we do things," or "It has always been this way." And in places where there is not the Book of Common Prayer (or equivalent) widely distributed among the faithful, it becomes an "arbitrary exercise of power." It is done this way because the senior minister says so. Or in some cases, because one or more influential members of the congregation say so -- this is almost always unhealthy, even worse than when it is the minister's will that prevails.

Having seen this, I treasure the Book of Common Prayer. Because of this book, our liturgy is conducted in a manner that is connected with the larger traditions of the church, and is not subject to the whims of rectors or vicars, or even diocesan bishops. Ideally, this would be so. In practice, it often is not. And that brings me to Mr. Tucker's question: "What to do when such rules are ignored?"

I have no answer to that.

Hymnal Revision Study

This document has probably been online for a while, but I became aware of it only recently. Here is a link to the PDF file.

I wrote about this topic last summer: Here and Here

There was a 2009 resolution to conduct a feasibility study of a replacement for the Hymnal 1982. The Commission has determined that no, there will not at present be a new hymnal. Considering the content of the hymnal supplements beginning with "Wonder, Love and Praise," it is probably just as well – any new hymnal that our denomination would produce would likely be an embarrassment.

There is much about this report that is troubling. For example, by the use of "logistic regression" methods, they are able to predict whether specific music directors will favor a new hymnal by a list of demographic criteria (p. 34-35, especially Table 42). In other words, the reason I oppose a new hymnal is that:

- I am male
- I hold a graduate degree in music
- I am a member of the American Guild of Organists
- I have a high regard for the Hymnal 1940

So, why did they bother asking the question? All they needed to do is collect the demographic information. And in the end, the largest demographic wins. But in this matter, there is no clear demographic "winner," unless it is the two-to-one opposition to a new hymnal across all demographics by members of congregations (see below).

It was good to see that the younger generation supports traditional church music. Here is a comment from a 22-year old, quoted on page 57:

I think there is a huge assumption made that the younger generation wants guitar- and piano-based praise and worship music. ...What we want to hear in a Sunday Eucharist are the classic hymns played on organ. And occasionally we want to chant. Church is the one place where our musical taste is not based upon fad, but instead links us with a much more important, more elegant tradition. If I wanted to listen to acoustic guitar and piano, I'd pick up Dave Matthews or Ben Folds. If I wanted rap, I'd listen to Lil Wayne. ...For worship, I want music that connects to me a world outside of the ins and outs of my daily life.

This is congruent with what I see in our parish; it is the "baby boomers" who want praise and worship music in church services, although they often justify their wishes by saying "it will appeal to the young people."

It is heartening to see the opinions expressed about parish choirs: most members of congregations find the choir to be spiritually enriching, they enjoy listening to it, and think that the choir has a high level of musicianship (p. 43). There are a lot of hard-working, faithful Episcopal choirs across the country, in parishes large and small. It is good to see that their work is appreciated.

I am not alone in my disdain for the various Episcopal supplements (p. 39). While the Hymnal 1982 gets about a "4" rating (scale of 1 to 5, with 5 being "very satisfied with it"), none of the supplements manages even a neutral "3" rating.

The survey asked about the medium of presentation. It was good to see that "there was a marked indication that projection screens are disliked by many" (p. 60) - one comment was that "when I see a PowerPoint screen go up in the sanctuary... I am out of here" (p. 61).

Having read the report, I concur with their conclusion, and with the decision of General Convention to table this matter.

While among clergy and music directors, a plurality favor hymnal revision, sentiment among congregation members runs 2-to-1 against revision and there is no demographic category that is in favor... Even for those who do favor revision, an examination of their comments fails to point to a consistent direction that a revision would take. Perhaps most significantly, there is no pattern in which youth correlates with a particular movement towards new forms of musical expression. To revise the Hymnal must in some way be a project that is a gift to the next generation. Gaining some clearer sense of what the worship music of that generation will look like will require a longer and more careful period of discernment. (p. 65)

"... a gift to the next generation." I wish we could provide that for them. But we cannot. Perhaps the best we can do is to lay groundwork for the future.

Scrambled Tofu

It is time for a recipe. I eat this several times a week and it is one of my principal sources of protein:

Scrambled Tofu (one serving)

- approx. one-quarter pound of Tofu (Firm or Extra Firm)
- Cooking Oil
- Seasoning (see below)

Put the block of tofu in a small cast iron skillet (dry, not oiled), over medium heat. As excess water is steamed off from the tofu, use a spatula to chop it up into small bits. The texture is somewhat like scrambled eggs, which explains why this is called "scrambled tofu."

After three or four minutes when the tofu is mostly dry, add the cooking oil. I use approximately two tablespoons of canola oil. Mix thoroughly with the tofu. Add a dash of salt. Saute until lightly browned (six to ten minutes), stirring occasionally with the spatula. If making large quantities, it will take a little more time to cook.

Remove from heat, add seasoning, serve. It is fun to simply put the sizzling hot skillet on the table (on top of a hot pad to protect the table!), as one would serve fajitas, and if it is just me, I eat it with a spoon right out of the skillet.

As for the seasoning, there are many possibilities. Here are some that I like:

- Thai seasoning, one or two teaspoons, with a half-teaspoon or so of Lemon Grass Powder (available at oriental grocery stores). This is my favorite.
- Cajun seasoning, about a teaspoon (or more, to taste)
- Italian seasoning, about a tablespoon. Drizzle a small amount of good Olive Oil on top when adding the seasoning. This is good on a tossed salad, or added to a plate of pasta with marinara sauce.

Or for a different approach:

- Use butter instead of cooking oil (reducing the heat), top with brown sugar and cinnamon. Drizzle some honey on top before serving.

In any of these forms, scrambled tofu is a quick and easy snack, or a good boost to a vegetarian meal that might otherwise be a little light on protein. A quarter pound of tofu has about ten grams of protein and is inexpensive.

One can also saute vegetables, mushrooms, onions, garlic, etc. with the tofu. I like to brown the tofu first as described above before adding the vegetables.


Tofu is as near to a perfect food as there is, partly because it has little or no flavor of its own. It takes up any flavor that you care to give it. With good reason, soybeans are one of the Five Sacred Grains of China, and Tofu is the form in which soybeans are most often eaten.

Figured Bass, Handel, and Good Habits: An Update

As described here (January 11 entry), I have tried to work on figured bass and score reading this spring.

Many times before I have begun the new year with a new Project, and it has fizzled within a few weeks, as Lent and Easter approach. I sought this year to at least keep a "placeholder" in my day for this work. I might only work at it for five or ten minutes on a busy day. That is not enough to make any progress, but it is enough to keep it habitual.

In January, I began working partly a page at a time with C.P.E. Bach's "Essay on the True Art of Playing the Clavier," and mostly with the final part of Handel's Messiah (see here), which we sang on April 14 as I mentioned the other day. In terms of the figured bass aspects, it went well. Over these three months I developed a moderate facility with the piece and my skills improved.

But until mid-March, I had overlooked one step, which I now realize is crucial:

After the day's work on a passage of music, take the score away from the keyboard and conduct it.

The results amaze me: I have a greater understanding of the musical score -- even the parts of the "Amen" fugue that are complex -- and a good comfort level of reading the score, and hearing the sounds in my ears. I might actually learn to do this!

Two Wednesdays ago, I used the full score in the youth choir rehearsal and discovered some weaknesses. Most notably, I got lost in the Amen in the long passages where there is not much text underlay in the vocal parts -- they are simply singing "Amen." I repeatedly drifted from the soprano/treble line to the staff above it, which is the viola part. This was decidedly unhelpful to the choir as I sought to play their parts in places to help them. After rehearsal, I took a pencil and drew lines across the score pages to set the choral parts off from the string parts more clearly. This helped. Last Wednesday, I had to lead the adult rehearsal from the score, playing the bass line and chords and cueing the trumpets at appropriate places, as well as the vocal parts. I am proud to say that it worked! A careful listener would have disapproved of some of my chord realizations, but they were sufficient for the purpose.

And on Sunday, I felt thoroughly comfortable as a conductor. This would not have happened without these three months of work with the figured bass and full score, and the similar preparation of the Mozart piece that we did in January, a much simpler score to follow than the Handel.


I also decided in January that I would not turn on any computers until midday. Instead, I would undertake the important work of the day: Matins, then Practice. I begin after Matins with vocal warmup and practice (again, this is very often a "placeholder," and at most is fifteen or twenty minutes), then Figured Bass/Score Reading, then a bit of Fingering on an organ or piano piece that lies ahead, then my main session of Practice at the piano and organ. I then try to get my office work done in the afternoon (and on Sunday, the evening).

It worked well until mid-March, when it became clear that something had to give in order to get through Holy Week, Easter Day, and the Second Sunday of Easter. I laid the vocal practice and sight-singing aside, and the C.P.E. Bach book. It was tempting to lay Matins aside -- this is, I think, one of the greatest temptations that stands in the way of regular observance of the Daily Office: a busy time comes in one's work or home life, and the Tempter whispers "You could get a lot done in this half-hour. What harm will it do to skip a day?" Then the next day is even busier, and it is easier to skip the Office. Before long, it is a thing of the past. The funny thing is that if one succumbs, one ends up wasting far more than that precious half-hour at other points in the day.

I have been there. Many times. Sometimes -- including this March -- all that saves me is the obligation that for three days of the week, Matins is a public service of worship for which I am responsible. On two of those days, almost no one ever comes, but it remains a fixed Duty. For which I am grateful. Also, I am under a Vow as a Brother of St. Andrew, which includes the Daily Office at least once a day. There have been times that this, too, has been enough to carry me through.

So now, it has been almost a month since I have done my daily sight-singing, any proper and systematic vocal practice, or work with C.P.E. Bach and figured bass (beyond work with the Handel score). Holy Week is past. Easter Day is past. Two Sundays have passed. Now is The Test. Can I pick up where I left off? Today was not an especially good start; I spun my wheels and wasted a lot of time this day. Too much.

Jesu, juva.

Transitional Parish: an Ill-Tempered Rant

Our parish is seeking a new rector. In today's sermon, the priest said that he had seen a draft of the Parish Profile. This is a document which is prepared by the search committee and disseminated to potential clergy candidates. The priest told us that it describes us as a "Transitional Parish." That is church-growth-speak for a parish with average Sunday attendance ("ASA" is their acronym) of 141 to 225 persons, and is equivalent to Lyle Schaller's size category "Awkward" (175 to 225).

In the system used by Arlin Rothauge, modified by the Diocese of Texas, and most commonly used in Episcopal circles, there are five types of congregations: "Family Church" (ASA of six to 75 adults), "Pastoral" (76 to 140), "Transitional" (141 to 225; we are near the top of this range), "Program" (226 to 400), "Resource" (401 and up). Here is a PDF that explains the jargon.

I submit that all of this is rubbish.

- It is the application of the models of the secular business corporation to the church.
- It takes the living entity of the Body of Christ and turns it all into numbers, statistics, goals
- It implies that every parish must strive to Grow.
- If you have failed to Grow, it is because you have not successfully applied the proper methods. You, in short, are a Failure.

Most of all, it make a "Transitional" or "Awkward-Sized" parish such as ours dissatisfied with what it is -- especially after we heard all of this ten years ago in our last rector search, have not grown, and are going through it all again. Might we not, just possibly, be the right size for our place and role in the community and in the Body of Christ? Might we not be fulfilling our ministry as a congregation exactly as we are?

This pernicious business-speak causes us to constantly tinker with ourselves, to make charts of which ministries are growing and which are not, to make mission statements and five-year plans and set goals and work on our "marketing" as if we were Wal-Mart or Target.

That sets the context for the music that was sung in today's service, shortly after the sermon which focused in part on our need to Change and Grow "to become a full-fledged Program Church." [Note carefully: I do NOT blame the priest for this. He was reporting the work of the search committee, and they are, I suspect, listening to the diocesan consultant. I blame the consultant, the "experts" in the background, and the manner in which our denomination matches priests with parishes, much like a computer dating service. As I have said elsewhere, we have a terrific interim priest and I am grateful for his ministry. And this day's sermon in other respects was excellent.]

This was the day when our combined choirs sang the end of Handel's Messiah: Worthy is the Lamb, Blessing and honor, Amen.

We had a guest organist who is a member of our parish; two trumpeters who are grad students at the local university; a cellist who teaches there (and is a good friend of the parish, though not a member), an undergraduate bass player who has also worked with us before and loves our parish. We had about twenty children and youth, and seventeen adult choristers.

It was glorious.

It was, I submit, an example of what this parish does well. It is an organic outgrowth ("Fruit," one might say - cf. St. John 15:5), something that has simply "happened" as a result of the youth choir getting a little better each year, the adult choir gaining in confidence (and gaining four new singers in recent weeks - not through any Mission Plan or Marketing Technique -- it "just happened." "What some would call chance," as Gandalf would say). It happened because of gradual development of good feelings between the parish and some of the students and faculty of the School of Music -- the cellist, for example, became a friend of the parish and occasional visitor for worship when her string quartet was the major part of the summer Chamber Music Festival a few years ago, and we were nice to them -- and also nice to her mother, an Episcopalian who was visiting that week and hanging around. I had a number of pleasant chats with the mother that week and strove to make her feel at home. The trumpeters came to us because of their connection with the former trombone teaching assistant who practiced long hours at the church, made recordings here with her brass quintet, and has told me that she will drive here from Chicago to play with us next Easter.

And we should be dissatisfied with this? We should re-design our programs and ministries so that they will be Bigger and Better and attract more people? It would be fair to say that we are one of the strongest parishes in our diocese. Music is only a part of this; our Christian Formation programs for children and youth are outstanding, the parish is much involved in the local downtown community and in ministries to the wider world.

In my annual review some years ago at another church, the interim pastor (brought in specifically because of his expertise in Church Growth Methods) castigated me because I was not starting New Groups. "You are not earning your salary unless you are forming two or three new small groups every year. You are dead weight, holding us back."

What is wrong with nurturing the groups, the ministries, that are already present?
What is wrong with nurturing the people that are there, right in front of you?

"Feed my lambs," our Lord said to St. Peter. We heard this today.
Not "Conduct a marketing survey of your neighborhood and produce a strategy to increase the number of lambs twenty percent by next summer."

I tried to talk to the choir after our final run-through of the Handel this morning; I couldn't. I was too choked up after hearing them sing the Amen fugue, after seeing the trebles watching me carefully for every one of their entrances, after seeing them Connect with the music, and commit themselves to those high G's and A's, after hearing it all come together as the fruit (that word again) of three months' rehearsal.

I tried to say: "Look around at the world. It is terrible. But that is not the last word. This is, this Amen that we have just sung."

These singers and musicians, these children of God, shall shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Compared to this, nothing else matters.

Practice methods: an experiment

I wish that I could count my preparations at the organ as successful for Holy Week, Easter Week, the Widor recital that Wednesday, and the services on the Second Sunday of Easter. It would be good to wrap all of this music up in a tidy package. But it is not so simple as that.

Having noted some time ago that a careful and thorough fingering and First Workout is crucial for anything that I play at the organ, I have observed this spring that the Second Workout is almost as important. If I have a lot of music to cover, it seems better to give a piece the Second Workout on the day after the first (or as soon as possible) rather than going ahead and doing First Workouts on other music, then the Second Workouts once everything has been properly started.

The Second Workout is the time for alterations to the fingerings. I have slept on the first day's work, and on the second day, the hands seem to want to play some of the passages differently. The part of my brain that deals with such details is making suggestions in the only way that it can. This spring I have made a point of paying attention. When such a place comes up, I try it in the way I had written down and practiced, and in the new way, and seek judge which is superior. More often than not, the "hands" (and the subconscious mind guiding them) are right; the exceptions are generally passages where the larger context supports one fingering even though the immediate context does not (for example, a parallellism with another passage elsewhere in the piece). The "hands" seem incapable of seeing such connections, and in this benefit from the conscious mind's guidance. This work of revision does not happen as readily if other music has intervened between the First and Second Workout; it is as if the "hands" are distracted, and forget the ideas they had developed.

In my normal schedule, I have done well this spring by preparing Sunday voluntaries and accompaniments in this manner. Most of what I play is thoroughly prepared after its Second Workout, needing only a final workout on Saturday and a brief warmup on Sunday morning.

I decided to try an experiment: for the music at the end of the cycle, the Second Sunday of Easter, I did the two workouts on everything that would be played other than the hymnody -- prelude and postlude for the Eucharist, prelude for Evensong, choral accompaniments for Evensong (the Eucharistic anthem was unaccompanied). All of this work took place before I delved into the music for Holy Week and Easter Day, or into the more intensive preparations for the Widor recital. After First and Second Workouts on all of it, I laid the Second Sunday music aside early in the Fifth Week of Lent -- almost three weeks before I would be playing it for church. I did not touch it again until Friday of Easter Week.

Then I turned my attention to Palm Sunday, Holy Week, the Great Vigil, Easter Day, and the Widor recital. I systematically gave each organ piece First and Second Workouts, laid it aside, moved on to the next item. The church music was done by Tuesday of Holy Week, allowing me to concentrate on the Widor over the weekend. On Holy Saturday, I spent about six hours on the Widor before starting a final practice session on the music for that night and the next day -- the first time I had played some of this music in about a week, and the only work it was to get before the liturgies.

After Easter Day's liturgies, I gave full concentration to the Widor, which was played on Wednesday. Some of my practice did not go as planned, as I mentioned in a previous essay, but I worked on it the best I could, whether at our parish or on the instrument where it was to be played.

Then, a Sabbath: Thursday of Easter Week.

Finally, on Friday of Easter Week, it was time for a return visit to the music for the coming Sunday. It took all of my practice time on Friday and Saturday to get one final workout on everything, plus the hymnody and service music.

Results: On the whole, I played cleanly, better than I have in most years. In particular, the music for the Great Vigil, by far the hardest of the organ music on my list for the weekend, was clean: "Ye choirs of New Jerusalem," and a postlude by Messiaen from the Livre du Saint Sacrement, which was the best that I have ever played it ("Ye Choirs" had one howler of a mistake on full organ, but was otherwise energetic and well-played).

The problem was with the Second Sunday of Easter. The most difficult piece for the day was clean: Christ ist erstanden, from the Orgelbüchlein, as were all of the choral accompaniments and the hymnody. But the other two voluntaries were sloppy, not at all acceptable. They both needed more work.

I believe that I am on the right track in giving high importance to careful fingering, and First and Second Workouts. But in a situation such as this, I must find a way to visit the pieces at the end of the cycle along the way rather than entrusting them to Friday and Saturday. I do not know when I could have done so. Might I have gotten the Widor prepared in January, as I had hoped, and kept it on maintenance practice through February and March? That would have allowed more time for the Second Sunday of Easter music during Holy Week. But I had other things to prepare in January and February.

It seems clear that I attempted more than I could do. This is another reason to not play in the Congregational Church recital series next year. And I must keep this in mind as I schedule voluntaries for the coming season. Do less, but with better quality.

For now, I am cancelling the big piece which was to be my next project: the Messiaen Transports de joie from the Ascenscion Suite. I spent quite a bit of time in January and February working out a careful fingering for this. It seems a shame to do that -- at the expense of practice on Widor, for example -- and then lay it aside. But I believe that it is what I should do. I will pencil it in for next year. I have had it pencilled in for Ascension Sunday for about four years now, and have never gotten around to learning it. Maybe next year, with the fingering in place and no recital during Easter Week, I can do it.

I wrote several weeks ago that playing the Widor on Wednesday of Easter Week would be interesting. It was, and instructive as well. As I wrote earlier, I am glad that I did it, and glad that it was helpful to people. The cost was high; one of the lessons of the past month is that the personal cost of playing the organ well is higher than I had thought, even after all these years of attempting it.

Shall I be carried to the skies
on flow'ry beds of ease,
while others fought to win the prize
and sailed on bloody seas? (Isaac Watts)

some words from Papa Haydn

It has taken me three days to be at peace with Wednesday's recital. Most importantly, it took two of my friends telling me what it meant to them. One of them said that by attending the recital, she felt like she had been on Retreat. The other told me that it was great to hear this music in the middle of a stressful day.

In my normal duties, I am not much concerned with the effect of my music on others. It is part of the church's Liturgy, and most decidedly not entertainment. My principal concern is that it support the Lessons and thus assist in telling the Story so that others might believe, or be strengthened in their faith. The music does not occur in a vacuum; it must always be music for these people, this place, this day, and thus it must be at least comprehensible to those who hear it. Still, I do not much care whether anyone likes it or not. I do very much hope that it pleases Him whom I serve, but that is another matter.

Thus, I forget that support of the Liturgy is only part of the function of Music. There is another part, and it is equally important, equally a part of the work of God through us in the world. Joseph Haydn expressed it thus:

Often, when contending with obstacles of every sort that interfered with my work, often when my powers of both body and mind were failing and I felt it a hard matter to persevere in the course I had entered on, a secret feeling within me whispered: "There are but few contented and happy men here below: grief and care prevail everywhere; perhaps your labors may one day be the source from which the weary and worn, or the man burdened with affairs, may derive a few moments' rest and refreshment." What a powerful motive for pressing onward!

I am honored that I could be the vehicle for "a few moments' rest and refreshment" for people who needed it. This is the musician's equivalent to offering a cup of cold water to a wayfarer (cf. St. Matthew 10:42).

On reflection, I think that I played fairly well. There were some missed notes (there are always missed notes), and I was probably too slow in the first movement. But I think that I played the second and third movements well, and perhaps the fourth, and I believe that my registration scheme was good.

We shall see what tomorrow brings. It is that day which I have dreaded, even more than the Easter Triduum and the recital -- can I play acceptably for the Eucharist and Choral Evensong tomorrow? I did two careful full Workouts on all the music for these services in the week leading up to Palm Sunday, and did not touch any of it again until yesterday. If this works, it may help me to have more trust in my practice methods.

Recital day

"You ought to play this again next year."
Two people said this to me after the noontime recital today: the Symphonie Romane of Widor (see here).
My reply: "Talk to me about it this winter."

Were I to respond today, it would be "No. Absolutely not." I do not know if I will return to that church to play, ever. Getting bumped from a scheduled rehearsal time last Thursday was hard (the resident church organist decided that he wanted the practice time for Easter Sunday, which is his perogative). Getting bumped from my warmup this morning, scheduled with the secretary a month ago, was harder still -- a university student took precedence, preparing for her recital in about three weeks. I suspect that the secretary had scheduled her as well as me, and she got there first this morning. After walking across town to the church and learning this from the secretary, I almost slammed the office door in her face. The organ became available at 10:00, but the organ tuner was in at 10:30 to touch things up (I knew of this; he called me at home last night, awakening me from a sound sleep). All told, I had about an hour, not enough to work quite all the way through the piece, and leaving me well short of comfortable about it.

It is a busy instrument. I am not at all sure I want to deal with the hassle again.

But these events were the real Test of the day for me, not the playing itself. How would I respond on the day of a recital when things do not go my way? Add "sleep-deprived" (from last week) and "over-stressed" (ditto) to the mix. I suppose my response of Walking Away is better than it could have been -- better than shouting at the secretary or throwing things in the church office, for example.

It is a Reminder of my ministry in this parish to visiting musicians: I try to smooth the way for them on Concert Day. I must remember this day the next time one of them seems overly demanding. Or when something comes up for which there is no remedy. The worst example of this for me as a concert host was a couple of years ago during the summer Chamber Music Festival. The pianist and violinist had a group of short pieces by Anton Webern, delicate atmospheric pieces, lots of little evanescent pianissimo gestures -- and the city had scheduled one of their summer outdoor concerts in the parking ramp in the next block, a heavy metal group. I walked over and asked the musicians between songs if they could tone it down a little, knowing full well that ear-splitting volume is a crucial ingredient for their genre. They were sympathetic to fellow musicians and did indeed turn it down a bit, but it was still horrible. Those poor musicians (the pianist and violinist)! They had worked hard on these intense little pieces, and their performance could barely be heard over the racket.

But so it goes. One can only make the best music possible given the circumstances. I did the best I could today with the Widor, and commit it to the Lord. Most of it did go well; additional warmup today probably would not have helped much, after all. Several people whose musical judgement I trust said it was good.

I am so tired.
Not perhaps quite as much as I was Sunday evening; I have had two good nights of sleep since then. But it is going to take more than that. Tomorrow is for me a Sabbath, the first proper Day of Rest (Lord willing!) in a fortnight. I will hopefully sleep late, then go to bed about 5 pm (and hope the phone doesn't ring; after being castigated by my wife, who in turn was castigated by her mother, I am no longer permitted to unplug the phone at bedtime). Some exercise would help too; I have hardly done any of that in the last fortnight. Pilates, weightlifting, a good long walk.

I have not described the preparation of this recital, because I did so a couple of years ago (Here is the final essay of that series). On that recital day, I wrote that "the Satanic temptation is: You must be perfect. The Gospel grace is: You shall be perfect. But not yet."