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The church: Westminster Cathedral, London.
Denomination: Roman Catholic.
The building: Beautiful modern Byzantine structure with an impressive dome. The interior has a striking altar, lady chapel to the chancel's left, a simple chapel where the sacrament is reserved, and altars commemorating various saints lining the aisles on both sides.
The neighbourhood: It's as interesting as a neighbourhood can be, I suppose, with the mixture of bustling businesses, Victoria Station and crowds of visitors en route to the nearby Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey.
The cast: Not provided.
Evening Prayer and Mass (weekday evening).
How full was the building?
It was amazingly full for a weekday liturgy. Perhaps half the pews were occupied, and I was deeply impressed (the participation of the congregation making it clear that the music and liturgy were familiar) that many people obviously attend regularly. I had come early to have some time for meditation, and found crowds of worshippers – at least half an hour before the sacrament was scheduled – forming a queue for sacramental confession.
Did anyone welcome you personally?
Only a young man outside the door, who asked me if he could beg £2 to apologise to his mum in Brighton for something he had said to her.
Was your pew comfortable?
Yes, standard.
How would you describe the pre-service atmosphere?
Bustle and greetings, but it was all deeply impressive, seeing such crowds for daily mass attendance. People of every class and background were there, and I was especially surprised at how many were very young.
What were the exact opening words of the service?
"O God, come to my assistance" – in Latin, since it was sung Evensong.
What books did the congregation use during the service?
Missalette and hymnal.
What musical instruments were played?
Organ, though Evensong was performed in plainsong. The male choir was, hands down, the best I've ever heard in the English-speaking world.
Did anything distract you?
God forgive me, but, when I saw the scores of people lined up for confession, I remembered how my deceased father (Italian immigrant, therefore not one for that particular form of devotion) used to comment, "What in hell could all of these people have done?"
Was the worship stiff-upper-lip, happy clappy, or what?
Magnificent. The music was superb, and the congregation joined in the prayers and hymns with great fervour.
Exactly how long was the sermon?
No sermon.
Which part of the service was like being in heaven?
The singing would have been stiff competition for the seraphim.
And which part was like being in... er... the other place?
A few homeless people, who apparently had indulged in a bit of the creature, were cackling in the rear.
What happened when you hung around after the service looking lost?
Nothing – everyone was in a rush home to dinner.
How would you describe the after-service coffee?
None.
How would you feel about making this church your regular (where 10 = ecstatic, 0 = terminal)?
8.
Did the service make you feel glad to be a Christian?
Yes, indeed. It was wonderful to see that the sacraments are a part of the daily lives of many people.
What one thing will you remember about all this in seven days' time?
Sorry to keep repeating myself, but that glorious music.
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