Mother Liz's Installation
Mother Liz has her own gig now, at another big old church, not far from Washington Square Park. We all strolled over during a beautiful spring evening and practically packed it with St. Michael's people. Seriously, it was like a wedding; the St. Mike's people took up almost the entire Gospel side of the sanctuary.
Ascension is done in a splendid country gothic style. The moment you walk in you are presented with a huge mural of Jesus' Ascension into Heaven with the absolutely gob smacked Discicples staring from below. If you spend some time on it, you will also notice the two men garbed in white standing off to the corner, mentioned in Acts.
No rood screen.
The ceremony was very similar to the one we'd all attended ten days ago: same Bishop did the installing. A woman likewise gave the sermon. The musical program was a tad more musty than St. Michael's, but, still beautifully done.
Didn't get a chance to see much more of their physical plant as the line to the champagne and cake quickly jammed. I stayed on the receiving line and tried my best to remain composed under Mother Liz's penetratingly kind gaze. (I swear, the woman has "co-counseling" written all over her.)
There's a "St. Michael's Corner" off to the side and underneath a huge oil rendition of our patron saint and, ironically, it was there that I met up with Huggy Bear and Crosby. Huggy was busy texting someone on his smartphone while Crosby was just saying goodbye to his parents. As soon as they were both done, Huggy quickly whispered to Crosby, "I'm coming to your house." I knew it had to be about the hockey playoffs which were still going on.
Crosby and I spent most of last Fall bonding around football, while Huggy gamely tried to bone up on a game he didn't follow nor enjoy very much. But, now Huggy was in his element, having grown up in Detroit, presumably a Red Wings fan. Nothing good could come of my trying to wrangle an invitation, so I didn't even try. Over the years, one learns to pick one's battles.
We did decide to take a walk back to the subway, having heard nothing but bad reports about the state of the refreshments line. Crosby had one bit of business to attend to, concerning The Camino, but, after that there was a noticeable spring in just about everyone's step. As our eyes grew accustomed to the dark, we could detect St. Michael's people all around us, strolling Fifth Avenue like something out of "Easter Parade". We met Joshua fresh from his job in a delicatessen. He always jokes that he smells of pickle juice, but, I've never hugged him close enough to notice. He was the fellow who led the charge up Breakneck Mountain which still seems like only yesterday.
Our laughter and tomfoolery drew the attention of Marilyn who needled us as we continued walking briskly.
Ascension is done in a splendid country gothic style. The moment you walk in you are presented with a huge mural of Jesus' Ascension into Heaven with the absolutely gob smacked Discicples staring from below. If you spend some time on it, you will also notice the two men garbed in white standing off to the corner, mentioned in Acts.
No rood screen.
The ceremony was very similar to the one we'd all attended ten days ago: same Bishop did the installing. A woman likewise gave the sermon. The musical program was a tad more musty than St. Michael's, but, still beautifully done.
Didn't get a chance to see much more of their physical plant as the line to the champagne and cake quickly jammed. I stayed on the receiving line and tried my best to remain composed under Mother Liz's penetratingly kind gaze. (I swear, the woman has "co-counseling" written all over her.)
There's a "St. Michael's Corner" off to the side and underneath a huge oil rendition of our patron saint and, ironically, it was there that I met up with Huggy Bear and Crosby. Huggy was busy texting someone on his smartphone while Crosby was just saying goodbye to his parents. As soon as they were both done, Huggy quickly whispered to Crosby, "I'm coming to your house." I knew it had to be about the hockey playoffs which were still going on.
Crosby and I spent most of last Fall bonding around football, while Huggy gamely tried to bone up on a game he didn't follow nor enjoy very much. But, now Huggy was in his element, having grown up in Detroit, presumably a Red Wings fan. Nothing good could come of my trying to wrangle an invitation, so I didn't even try. Over the years, one learns to pick one's battles.
We did decide to take a walk back to the subway, having heard nothing but bad reports about the state of the refreshments line. Crosby had one bit of business to attend to, concerning The Camino, but, after that there was a noticeable spring in just about everyone's step. As our eyes grew accustomed to the dark, we could detect St. Michael's people all around us, strolling Fifth Avenue like something out of "Easter Parade". We met Joshua fresh from his job in a delicatessen. He always jokes that he smells of pickle juice, but, I've never hugged him close enough to notice. He was the fellow who led the charge up Breakneck Mountain which still seems like only yesterday.
Our laughter and tomfoolery drew the attention of Marilyn who needled us as we continued walking briskly.