It is situated in the "heart of the city", in central Midtown.
Here's a quick story of its generosity: In 1906, the parish was raising money to construct the church. Hearing of the disastrous San Francisco Earthquake, the rector (priest) donated all the money to that city. As he began fundraising again, an impressed NYC citizenry donated plenty of funds for the current building.
Imposing statues look down from the main entrance on Fifth Avenue. The double-doors evoke medieval grandeur.
There is an entrance on 53rd Street (to the Parish House), a "Bride's door" (for weddings), and a "north porch" door that's rarely opened. A tourist snickered at the two-fingered logo above the Bride's Door because he assumed that it symbolized what a husband can do to his wife on their wedding night! Geez.
Relatedly, Dan Brown's whistleblowing book, The DeVinci Code, awoke the world to the revelation that church entranceways were designed to resemble a woman's vagina, and Saint Thomas has one.
Notice that exterior. Famed illustrator, Norman Rockwell used it for his sketch in 1957, highlighting how humans fail to improve themselves, as they trudge through their prescribed routines. The title was "Lift Up Thine Eyes".
If you literally look up at Saint Thomas, you'll see that one of its flagpoles waves the flag of the Episcopal Church.
Relatedly, Dan Brown's whistleblowing book, The DeVinci Code, awoke the world to the revelation that church entranceways were designed to resemble a woman's vagina, and Saint Thomas has one.
Notice that exterior. Famed illustrator, Norman Rockwell used it for his sketch in 1957, highlighting how humans fail to improve themselves, as they trudge through their prescribed routines. The title was "Lift Up Thine Eyes".
If you literally look up at Saint Thomas, you'll see that one of its flagpoles waves the flag of the Episcopal Church.
It looks suspiciously like the national flag of England, which features the Cross of Saint George, the patron saint of England.
That's because when America consisted of Britain's 13 Colonies, the official religion was the Church of England. After the Revolution of Independence, America broke away from that Crown-controlled religion and created its own: Episcopal. (The nine white crosses represent the original dioceses of 1789). Both religions are Anglican and have many similarities.
Saint Thomas belongs to the Diocese of New York, which was one of the original. Its logo incorporates windmills to acknowledge the city's Netherlandish origins... before British takeover.
Alas, the dioceses is headquartered at NYC's famously-incomplete Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, on Amsterdam Avenue in the Upper West Side. That place stands grotesquely unfinished, lacking its towers--with one half-built. Like many things in NYC, when money failed, it was abandoned because nobody cared to finish it and moved on to new projects. The facade is indicative of a church that lacks focus and lacks events. (Saint Thomas surpasses it with a calendar full of events).
Saint Thomas was built with Kentucky limestone in an authentic medieval style (materials, height, and spacing of the load-bearing columns), thus affording the unique acoustics that make church music so grand. The roof is 95-feet high with ribbed vaulting. Oak was used for the pews, pulpit, its canopy, and the lectern.
Seen above, you can sit cozily up in the arched gallery on the left (just within the colonnade).
Underneath it is the Chantry Chapel for prayers.
Candles are freely available in several areas for visitors to ignite while making prayerful thoughts.
Regrettably, NYC put a subway tunnel directly underneath, and it allowed to deteriorate to this day. Here is an image...
A subway station is across the street from the church. Unlike how public transit was done in London, NYC uncaringly did not exert itself to include sound muffling qualities. So, whenever a train rumbles through the tunnel under the church, the noise echoes throughout the acoustics. Lewis and I learned to ignore that noise pollution and remind ourselves that we sit in an oasis of the "urban jungle".
Standing in the nave, your eyes are drawn to the far wall, where the church's reredos soar upward behind the altar. It is a masterpiece of craftsmanship that is unseen nowadays. Figures are carved from stone: apostles, prophets, clergy.
Underneath it is the Chantry Chapel for prayers.
Candles are freely available in several areas for visitors to ignite while making prayerful thoughts.
Some parishioners like to sit in the cozy aisle between that low-ceilinged Chapel and the main Nave. There are unique parts of the main ceiling: soaring arches are very close together.
The choir and clergy sit in the chancel, in front of the congregation.
Seen above, every Gospel Procession at St. Thomas is always "amongst the people" who sit in the pews. I know the man who is second from left: Barry. He gave me a tour of the church.
Lewis likes the one above the rear gallery--shown below--which has 1,700 pipes and cabinet doors that can enclose it.
9 million pieces of stained glass decorate the church!
St. Thomas has 3 massive pipe organs. Seen below, two of them face each other while towering over the chancel.
The main one has 8,916 pipes! (Further south on Fifth Avenue, St. Patrick's Cathedral has 7,855).
Lewis likes the one above the rear gallery--shown below--which has 1,700 pipes and cabinet doors that can enclose it.
9 million pieces of stained glass decorate the church!
Its fascinating to participate in an evening service and watch the jewel-like blue and violet tones of the highest windows slowly dim, as the sun goes down.
*To see when we witnessed the tallest stained glass windows in the world, please click this link:
With such a grandiosity, you will correctly assume that services at St. Thomas use a "high church" format.
As an Episcopal church, it is gay-friendly, and gay attendees dress colorfully. On that Sunday, a nice gay fellow seated next to us complimented my green tartan trousers and my "Advent-purple" gloves. In return, I complimented his red/blue checkered trousers and fir-green cardigan.
St. Thomas is the only church in North America to run a boarding school exclusively for its choir boys. It was founded in 1919. In fact, other than Westminster Abbey in England and El Escorial in Spain, it's the only Choir School in the world which exclusively educates boy trebles. 40 students are currently enrolled, and they hold perfect pitch via boyish energy. The school's impressively-big building is nearby on 58th Street.
Those 40 boys (under the age of 14, when puberty causes their vocals to change) have amazing quality! Sometimes, they're augmented by "gentlemen of the choir"; many are professional opera singers. For festive services, an orchestra is hired.
On chillier days, you may see the boys on the sidewalks, wearing their crested St. Thomas cloaks.
On chillier days, you may see the boys on the sidewalks, wearing their crested St. Thomas cloaks.
Their current Choirmaster, John Scott, was lured from directing music at St. Paul's Cathedral in London! His twinkling eyes, great mind for music excellence, and gregariously British voice have been creating amazing masterpieces.
Their last Rector was as "dry as toast" and appeared in newspaper headlines for his odd behaviors and inappropriately anti-gay sentiments. Thankfully, he is gone. The vestry was fortunate to call the Rev. Canon Carl Turner to be their new Rector. He and his wife relocated from the gorgeous Exeter Cathedral in England. (A cannon is a senior-level priest).
His sparkle, tendency for dialogue, experience with famous choirs, dignity, and plummy British accent will enliven and give a hearty boost to the parish. He's revamping the parsonage, since he and wife (and 3 adopted kids) are known to entertain and welcome others into their home.
The rector also opens the church to visitors/preachers from other denominations and religions. Lewis and I met the 104th Archbishop of Canterbury, when he presided there in 2017.
Needless to say, he prepared NYC church-goers for a December full of wonderful music: Advent hymns, Choral Evensong (like Vespers but with incense, processions & choir music), Festal Evensong, Christmas carols, and ticketed performances of Handel's Messiah (which he composed in Dublin, Ireland). *Lewis and I saw the church where he wrote the music, and if you use this link, you can see it, too:
The jewel in the calendar is A Festival Service of Nine Lessons & Carols. Saint Thomas Fifth Avenue does it better than anywhere in New York City! This year, Lewis and I invited our friends, Derreck and Franco, to join us for that 4pm service (and a scrumptious dinner afterwards with robust wine to match our enlightened spirits). Franco is from Switzerland, and he is a diehard fan of the Vienna Boys Choir, so he was skeptical that an American vocal group could match them. He was awed!
Fr. Turner invited the neighboring Catholic Bishop O'Hara. Both men wore their birettas: Lewis liked the pom-poms.
Lewis likes organ music, and we savored the 2 assistant organists alternating music on the front and back organs. The rumbling low notes of the front organ were great during Silent Night. Its amazing that its vibrations didn't shake the glass loose in the windows! Ha ha!
Each year, "Lessons & Carols" begins with Once in Royal David's City. A chorister is suddenly chosen randomly by the Choirmaster to begin singing the first part of the song… solo. Part of the fun/terror is being chosen randomly. That lone crystal-like voice fills up the church. Then, the boys and men sing the second part, with the boys' higher voices soaring above, as if to hit the rafters. The choir starts a procession down the side aisle with 2 crucifers, 4 torchbearers, choirmaster, clergy, the rod-carrying verger, and the rector. The candlelit line fills the aisle from front to back! They reach the back of the church, and they turn and go up the center aisle to their seats on either side of the altar.
It was soooo lovely that Franco dropped his program.
The other notable thing about attending services at St. Thomas is that it brings great people into the pews who have great voices to sing. Every time I go, I'm surrounded by lovely people who really love to sing… and that makes the congregational hymns so much better. That night, the gay fellow to my left had a lovely tenor voice, and a robust man behind us belted out the notes with talented gusto. (At the end, I turned and thanked him for making the service so extra pleasant in our section, to which he blushed and bashfully thanked me).
The church was festively festooned with lots of greenery. There was pine garland (artificial = fire-proof) wrapped around the candles holders that lined the pews. The advent wreath was glowing overhead, and tall illuminated pine trees stood on either side of the altar. Large wreaths hung along the walls and under the triforium's vaulted archways.
The other carols included some favorites: Ding, Dong! Merrily on High, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, The Joys Seven, King Jesus Hath a Garden (a Dutch melody), It Came Upon A Midnight Clear (arranged by Scott), In Dulci Jubilo (a fourteenth-century German carol), and Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. A Basque carol, Sing Lullaby was also performed. During a fifteenth-century English carol, A Babe is Born, the boys' voices practically soared and chimed together like handbells! The organ postlude included Sussex Carol.
Each year, it is entertaining to see who was chosen to read the lessons. Whichever choirboy they pick always has excellent intonation and pronunciation. The choirmaster read a lesson with his ear-soothing accent. A little girl from the Sunday School could barely reach the lectern.
A Gentleman of the Choir read, followed by the Headmaster of the Choir School. Then, a "Member of the Congregation" and a "Warden of the Parish". No, the Verger didn't read, but he does get to carry his verge: a pointed rod historically used to defend the priests against troublemakers.
The rector ascended the intricately-carved pulpit, just as bells in bellower began to chime, and then they tolled to signify 5 o'clock.
Fr. Turner gave a jovial sermon about what he saw on the city's sidewalks whenever he walked his terrier, Bertie. He thinks the city needs a lot of help. He advised us to keep our hearts full of Christmas spirit, to spread charity of heart, and to give heartfelt gratitude.
The recessional hymn was beautifully performed--with the whole church putting their lungs into the effort! At the front doors, we shook hands with the rector, and I thanked him for bringing dignity to the parish. I wished him a Blessed Christmas, and he returned the favor. Outside, Franco exclaimed, "The boys' voices were like jewels! So beautiful. I can't believe it!"
Our sumptuous troupe of gentlemen headed for dinner literally "around the corner" to The Modern at MoMA. It's a delightful restaurant that earned two Michelin stars. Lewis and I ate there several times for lunches and dinners.
Evan, the gaily-sounding host, was efficient: our table was immediately ready. My artisanal cocktail included gin, fennel syrup, lemon, and black mission fig bitters. Lewis imbibed bourbon, tamarind, burnt orange syrup, and spiced bitters. We shared a dozen fried oysters and a delicious Tarte Flambé: Alsatian flatbread baked with crème fraîche, onions, and bacon. Our waitress gave advance warning that there were only a few quantities of roast Foie Gras available in the kitchen. We ordered one… then upon receiving it, we beckoned her and ordered ANOTHER one! Triumphs!
As always, their bread was amazing, with perfectly spreadable butter. Danny Meyer is the owner, and he sources ingredients from local organic farmers, creameries, small-batch suppliers, and farmer's markets.
Four waiters attended us in seamless unity. Adam, the captain, served our courses from platters and poured sauces on our plates. With posture and decorum, he asked if he could assist us in any way further? I asked for a wine for my Branzino. He smiled (Derreck said he was flirting with me), leaned over my shoulder (any closer and he would've rubbed off my vetiver cologne), and guided my hand down the list, suggesting a Jean-Marc Morey Montrachet chardonnay. It was delicious. (I bypassed the presentation of the bottle, because I trust the staff).
For dessert, we shared dark chocolates, pumpkin maracrons, cream-filled wafers, and chocolate mouse. At the maître d' podium, our coats arrived, and we embarked into the chilly night.
Derreck, who grew up in America's southern climates, said that he wished for a bit of snow. As if Heaven answered his prayer, a snow flurry suddenly began to fall!!! We shrieked with laugher in the street, drawing attention of out-of-towners who were taking pictures of Fifth Avenue store windows. Crossing under the giant Swarovski crystal suspended above the avenue,
Derreck, who grew up in America's southern climates, said that he wished for a bit of snow. As if Heaven answered his prayer, a snow flurry suddenly began to fall!!! We shrieked with laugher in the street, drawing attention of out-of-towners who were taking pictures of Fifth Avenue store windows. Crossing under the giant Swarovski crystal suspended above the avenue,
we passed a frustrated traffic cop. He seemed unable to get the foreign tourists to understand him. I leaned over and wished him a sympathetic "Best of Luck". He gave a nod and said, "Merry Christmas!" We hollered it back. Such cheer to conclude a heavenly evening.
I am currently an acolyte at St. Thomas Church! We appreciate your blog, and would gladly welcome you and your loved ones back again to worship with us! Barry is still the senior acolyte, and is jovial as ever!
ReplyDeleteIf you're not able to be with us in person, check out our channel on YouTube - we webcast almost every service (daily and Sunday), and you'll be able to experience us from your phone or computer! Thanks again.
DeleteThank you for the compliments. You might see me there, as my schedule permits. I'm glad Barry's spirits are high; it's a wonderfully spiritual place!
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