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WELCOME TO LITURGY AT ST. CECILIA'S For more information click on one of the following:
LITURGY AND PRAYER AT ST. CECILIA 'S
The common prayer life of believing Christians is at the heart of any parish community, and at St. Cecilia's this is no exception, as we believe the liturgy is at the center of our mission as a parish. As believers and followers of Jesus Christ, the liturgy is the primary source of strength as we celebrate our faith and seek to follow him more faithfully. The quality of our liturgies has always been a hallmark of who we are. We welcome all parishioners and visitors to respond to the invitation to give thanks to our God through the many expressions of liturgy and prayer here at St. Cecilia's.
Our coming together on the weekends to celebrate Mass is the starting point and climax of our weekly life as a parish community. The Eucharist is the ongoing heartbeat of our life at St. Cecilia's. We also provide many other opportunities for prayer and worship throughout the various seasons of the liturgical year. These include sacramental celebrations, the Church's Holy Days, and other important celebrations and prayer experiences such as All Souls Evening Prayer, Thanksgiving, the Feast of St. Cecilia, Advent Evening Prayer, Lenten celebrations of the Way of the Cross, Taize' prayer and many other opportunities for prayer.
We believe that our small, intimate, and beautiful worship space provides a wonderful sense of community and connection, and every time we gather, we strive to be a hospitable and inclusive community. We have a strong involvement of parishioners of all ages, and we are especially proud of the many young people who serve as acolytes, lectors and in our music ministry. Our worship space is totally accessible to those who are physically challenged; we also have a system in place for those who are hearing impaired; and coffee and doughnuts after both Masses on Sunday provide a weekly time of ongoing connection for each other.
Our pastor, Fr. Mike Byron, provides us with strong prayerful leadership, and we are very blest by his preaching that truly touches our lives and experience as parishioners. His homilies are usually posted here on the website, offering an opportunity to share and deepen the challenge of God's Word beyond our weekend celebrations. Our weekend Masses are also the occasion for important sacramental moments such as Baptism, Anointing of the Sick, RCIA and Confirmation rituals, blessings and other important threshold moments for members of our community.
In keeping with St. Cecilia being the patron saint of music, we are particularly known for being a singing community - we raise the roof here at St. Cecilia's! Under the leadership of our music director, Jeanne Dold, and our singing pastor, Fr. Mike, we see music as an important and powerful way to pray. We are a community with a diversity of musical tastes - we sing and pray with everything from chant and traditional hymns to the most contemporary styles of music being composed for the church today. We are excited about our new Yamaha piano, and our parish hymnal, Gather Comprehensive: Second Edition , provides us with a rich resource of songs, hymns, psalms and acclamations that help us to sing, celebrate and express our faith. Our choir is a very dedicated group of singers and believers who help fill the church with a beautiful sound, and we have many who generously serve as cantors and instrumentalists as well.
St. Cecilia's is also dedicated to outreach and the sharing of our space for occasional liturgical music concerts and ongoing workshops and events on liturgy and music, serving as a site for annual workshops co-sponsored with GIA Publications and The Emmaus Center for Music, Prayer and Ministry. These workshops have brought together many parish liturgists and music directors throughout the Archdiocese, and those from other Christian faith traditions.
Most importantly, we honor the call of Second Vatican Council that the gathered community be formed, supported and empowered in their "full, active and conscious participation" in the liturgy. This value is primary above all others in regard to our liturgical life here at St. Cecilia's.
Liturgy is truly the engine that keeps us going as a parish community - we invite you to join us in our praise of God each weekend. Saturday evening Mass is at 5:00 p.m., and our Sunday schedule celebrates the Eucharist at 8:15 and 10:00 a.m. Know that ALL of you are always welcome. Come and pray with us!
What follows are some of the more intentional ways to be involved in liturgy here at St. Cecilia's:
Together with staff members Fr. Mike Byron, Jeanne Dold, and Marge Virnig, we have a very active liturgy committee, which oversees the overall worship life of the parish. This committee meets once a month throughout the year to determine and evaluate the overall liturgical policies and direction of the parish; to do the major planning and preparation for the liturgical seasons and other special liturgical celebrations; to help the pastor and music director plan and vision for the future; and to provide ongoing formation for our various liturgical ministers and the parish community at large. The monthly meeting times, meeting minutes, and important liturgical calendar items are published regularly here on the website. Linda Beckman presently serves as chairperson for this committee. If you have any questions about the committee's work, or are interested in joining, contact the parish office. Click here to access the Liturgy Committee Minutes for
There are many opportunities for parishioners to become involved in the various liturgical ministries here at St. Cecilia's. Members of our parish staff and others in the parish provide initial training and ongoing support and formation for all who are involved. For more detailed information regarding these liturgical ministries, contact Marge Virnig at the parish office (651-644-4502, ext. 24) or at: marge@stceciliaspm.org .
Below are some of the ways in which one can become more involved in the liturgical life here at St. Cecilia's.
Lectors share their gifts to proclaim the Word of God, not only at our weekend masses, but also at the many sacramental and other celebrations that take place during the year. Women, men, young and old - all are welcome to be a part of this important ministry, where we encounter the stories and wisdom of our faith.
The Ministry of Eucharistic Minister
Eucharistic Ministers not only assist Fr. Mike in the communal sharing of the bread and wine at Mass, but they are to be a living sign of how all of us are called to be the "Body of Christ" every day of our lives. In addition to sharing in this important table ministry at Mass, many also choose to help bring the Eucharist to those in our community who are sick or homebound.
Sacristans have a vital role in helping the details of the liturgy go smoothly. They assist in many ways: coordinating the various liturgical processions and collections; and they help to set up and clean up before and after the liturgical celebration itself.
It is very important that all parishioners and guests feel welcome when we gather to worship, and our ministers of hospitality are at the front line in helping to create a friendly and hospitable atmosphere. They help create a sense of welcome; they also coordinate and make sure all receive the bulletin, coordinate the collection, and assist those seeking a place to be part of our community.
The Ministry of Acolyte (Server)
This ministry is open to youth and adults, male and female alike, to help with the various ministries throughout the liturgy: in the processions of the cross and candles; assisting with the Sacramentary (the book of prayers at Mass), and many other responsibilities during the celebration of the Mass.
We are very proud of our parish music ministry, and there are many opportunities to share one's musical gifts here at St. Cecilia's: as a member of our wonderful choir; as a cantor to help lead the assembly in song and in the proclamation of the responsorial psalm; or as an instrumentalist to help add solemnity to our musical prayer. The choir rehearses once a week (except for the summer months), and rehearsals for cantors and instrumentalists are scheduled with our music director, Jeanne Dold. We also have a youth choir for children of all ages, who sing at special liturgical occasions throughout the year. For more information about our parish music ministry, contact Jeanne at the parish office (651--644-4502, ext. 28) or e-mail her at: jeanne@stceciliaspm.org . Choir Rehearsal Schedule 2011-2012
This is a subcommittee under the direction of the liturgy committee, and their charge is to help create a visual environment for our community to pray. Through their creative work they help provide an atmosphere that reflects and gives unity and attention to the celebration of the various liturgical seasons and to our prayer together.
Homily 1/1/12
Twice in the past 24 hours I have been asked by two different people, out of the blue, about how to understand the same sentence of Holy Scripture. One was a 16 year old boy in St. Paul and one was a middle aged woman in Edina, neither of them St. Cecelia's parishioners. The boy began by saying, “Are you familiar with Jesus' teaching in Mark 9:32?” I had to say that I hadn't any idea as to the answer to that question. He said, “It's the thing about the unforgivable sin, this offense that the gospel describes as “blasphemy against the Holy Spirit.” I'm worried that I might have done that, but I'm not exactly sure what it means.” I was able to assure him that any seriously striving Christian has probably had that same intuition at some moment in his or her life. What exactly is that singular, unpardonable offense that could lead a person to eternal damnation? And how does one know whether one has done that? It's a fair and honest question, but not one that I felt very competent to answer directly. Instead it raised for me a more basic, and I think better question, namely: Just what kind of God do we think we're living with here? A God of deception and trickery? One who takes pleasure in confusing and worrying us? One who deliberately teases us—or taunts us—with vague threats of hell? One who doesn't really want us to understand too well where the line in the sand is? Really? That would be contrary to every encounter that the God of the gospels had with his followers. Is there any sentence that Jesus uttered more frequently than, “Do not be afraid”? Ours is not a threat-based faith. Ours is not a religion in which, despite our most sincere but imperfect attempts, people are condemned for eternity without being entirely sure of what they did wrong.
Rather, our long, long tradition has disclosed exactly the kind of God who is ours—the one who a friend of mine likes to name “The God of Plan B.” Which is to say, pretty much every time in history that God has set up the rules for right living and explained the dire consequences for our being unfaithful, and pretty much every time we've failed to keep our part of the commitment (which is every time), God has responded not by doing exactly what he warned us about in his justice, but rather by creating an alternative way out for us—a Plan B—a road to salvation that we did not really deserve. When we were created in his image and told to obey God in the Garden of Eden, and then we didn't, God did not carry out his stated intention to kill us. When we agreed to abide by the precepts of the 10 commandments, and then we failed, God did not destroy us. When the Great Flood of Noah's time came to utterly wipe out the people that had so disappointed God, He gave us a new start with the remnant of the Ark. When the people of Israel lost their land, as promised, because of their evil ways, God gave it back to them. Plan B. And when we Christians had forfeited any right on expectation we may ever have had to live with God, because of our disobedience, selfishness and sin, God did not obliterate us or despise us. Instead he created Plan B: Christmas.
Christmas is not the invention of a God who is looking for ways to hurt us or punish us without our being aware of it. God is whoever the opposite of that is. That makes God mysterious to us, because human beings aren't that unfailingly generous and forgiving—not even the very best of us. But while God may be mysterious, if there's anything that he has shown us time after time after struggling time, it's that he doesn't want to be alien to us, and that he is far more willing to reconcile than to punish. Hence, Plan B: Christmas; our way out of desperation. Our gospel today is yet another testimony of God being faithful to a promise, even when we weren't. It all came about in Bethlehem just as the angel had foretold, because the only promise that God doesn't keep is the one about doom and strict justice. Certainly we ought not to presume upon God's mercy; and sin is certainly something to be named, confronted, and resisted with honesty and courage. But in the end, if we are ever looking at a serious prospect of eternal damnation, it won't be because of God's desiring that—let alone engineering that. That's not the manner of Plan B. So what is that unforgivable sin? I'm not sure, except that I'll know it when I've committed it, because I know the God with whom I am dealing here, and I pray that we all do. The God of blessing, of goodness, and not of course, of spite. The God who never stops urging us to be more generous and virtuous than we are now, but who is not looking for opportunity to scold us when we don't do it well enough. Christmas is the most blatant way that God knew how to tell us how much we mean to him, how much he wants to be known to us and with us, and even one of us…and how endless is Plan B.
Homily 1/8/12
Four years ago at our seminary we welcomed four young students from The African nation of Ghana to study for the priesthood. They are all now deacons in their final year of preparation, and they will be ordained priests this December, God-willing. They have all proven to be excellent young men, each with their own set of considerable gifts and talents, and they have taught me a lot about their homeland. For one thing, like many African countries, although they share the same flag and government, I have learned that in Ghana there is a variety of ancestral tribes to which the people are attached, tribes that are quite distinctive in their histories and stories. I mentioned that we welcomed them in 2008. Well, for the most part we did. There was a certain moment of awkwardness, however, that first year. When the annual pictorial student directory was published that fall, the four Ghana students were all miss-identified. Their names were confused with one another by the editor of the book. So we had the inevitable confiscation of them and re-issuing of corrected pictures. Although that was embarrassing, I'm sure, for many of us, and surely hurtful to the students, I do understand how it could have happened. After all, don't all the young men of Ghana kind of look the same to us? I have to admit that at the time I might have been able to answer yes. But now, after all these months of getting to work and recreate with them, it is astonishing for me to think that there could ever have been a time when we couldn't have distinguished these men into very unique personalities, passions and even skin tone and facial features. Their particularities are glaringly obvious now, for which I know they are grateful, since they are not all from the same tribe and they find it off-putting when they are simply clumped into one generic group of dark-skinned people from “over there.”
This weekend at the Nativity scene that is set up in the seminary residence, three wise men appeared from the East. Two of them are white skinned people, and the third is black. If that's a true account of how things were in Bethlehem that night, then the white ones would have had to travel west from Ireland in order to get there, and the Black man could have come from no nearer than the South Pacific Islands.
Oh, but of course that's not the point behind the story of the Magi, we say; it's not to be understood so literally. Maybe not, but everything else around that manger scene is literally following the gospel script—except perhaps for the white skin on just about everybody there. Nobody in Israel was Western European in complexion, including Jesus. I am not intending here to poke fun at whoever created those figures around the manger, but my sarcasm is in service to at least two very serious and not at all funny dimensions to this annual observance of the Feast of the Epiphany. The first is to note that the story of the arrival of the Magi that St. Matthew recalls for us again at this Eucharist is his emphatic attempt to explain to his hearers (us) that when the Savior of God came to Earth at Christmas it was not solely for the purpose of rescuing people who look, feel, behave, and believe in exactly the same way that we do, we and our tribe. He came for everybody, with an offer of hope and salvation that literally excluded nobody, nobody , and still doesn't. So having white Magi show up “from the east” in our imaginations is not merely something as simple and benign as making God a projection of ourselves and our concerns. People have always done that, unwittingly or not. It's something far more potentially sinful than that. It's the attempt to resolve the problem of diversity, whether in culture, race, religion, gender, or politics, by imagining that those “different” people out there aren't really different at all. They're either basically the same as we are or they're simply bad or wrong. That is not the gospel, which proclaims that “those people” really may well be quite different from us in their dispositions and allegiances and customs and convictions and still not be categorically written off as if God is not pleased to save them. Because none of them would be here at all if God were not pleased that it be so. Anything east of Bethlehem would have represented everything that Israel was not: if not sworn enemies, then at least cold warriors with the Chosen People. The Magi did not convert to Israelite faith when they crossed the border, and nobody at the manger took umbrage at that fact. (And let us remember that Matthew's gospel is written to the Jews.) Instead, they were content simply to wonder at the fact that they were all thrown together there on that holy night.
And the second dimension of Epiphany bounces back to the story of the seminarians from Ghana. It is to say that as we strive to be welcoming of diversity in our church and world, it can never be boiled down to a confrontation between “us and them” because there is no clump of people that can be smashed into a collective known as “them.”
There are undocumented immigrants among us who are criminals and gangsters. There are also undocumented people who are filled with Catholic faith and trying to hold their families together. So the generic category of “illegals” in the blogosphere and TV is meaningless. There are Republicans whom are racists. There are also Republicans who abhor racism. There are Democrats whose views on abortion are irreconcilable with anything Christian. There are also Democrats who abhor abortion and who are in it for other passions. There are poor people who are lazy and exploiting of the system. There are also poor people who have tried everything they can to help themselves and have been unable to. There are obscenely rich people who have gotten that way as the result of sheer selfishness and greed. And there are also the ones who had good fortune, and for whom it's not all about the money. There are men from Ghana from the north, and those from the south—two very different tribes, neither of which name I could pronounce, but not just a collection of black faces.
In short, to be someone who is “other” than we, is not to be simply a vague menagerie of “them.” It is to be a somebody, with a story and a name and a history to be honored, or at least investigated, before being generically categorized. Epiphany is the nothing other than the demand that we take diversity seriously—not merely as a contemporary cultural slogan, but as part of the essence of Christian faith. Because Epiphany reveals that God is always bigger than we are—whoever is the “we” that we imagine ourselves to be. And from the beginning, the God of Jesus Christ has been unsettling people by his refusal to be encased in an Ethnic, or cultural, or even religious straight jacket.
As we honor this God in our worship today, let us pray to be better conformed to the heart that is as large as his.
Homily 1/15/2012
Historically, the relationship between religion and human bodies has been a very curious and varied thing. That is all the more intensely true when it comes to the reproductive aspects of the human body. Sometimes one hears the complaint that the church is fixated on sexuality in its moral teachings, and perhaps that's true. But if the alternative is an attempt to deny the central importance of our bodies and how we use them, that's not only equally harmful, it is contrary to our Judeo-Christian faith. Throughout the millennia various religions have tried to come to terms with the human body in different ways. Some pagan fertility cults saw hedonistic sexuality as an act of ritual worship. Others like the ancient Israelites saw the ritual disfigurement of body parts as an act of holiness. Still others including some who thought of themselves as Christians, saw the human body as contemptible either to be ignored as much as possible or to be painfully disciplined into submission to some spiritualized project. All of these instincts are still around. But maybe the strangest attempt to come to terms with bodies as religious people is the contemporary one, the one which believes that bodies and church have nothing to do with one another, because my body is mine to do with as I please; in effect, I own it and it's nobody else's concern how I use it.
That's what some of the people who lived in Corinth in the first century also believed, which is one of the reasons that St. Paul felt the need to write a difficult and blunt letter to the church there in order to set things straight. Surely one of the most counter-cultural sentences that he puts out there, at least for us contemporary Americans, is the one heard in today's second reading. Paul writes, “Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God, such that you are not your own.” You have been purchased at a high price, and that's why Christians have no excuse for playing the card that says it doesn't much matter. In saying this, Paul is not referring primarily to some cosmic transformation of human nature that happened on the cross 2000 years ago. No, it's a lot more immediate and challenging than that. He means to say that how we conduct our bodily business when we move about in daily human activity is a direct expression of our religious belief and of our desire to worship God by the way we live. “The body,” Paul says, “is not for immorality, but for immortality; so glorify God by the manner in which you use it.” And while morality includes all kinds of human behaviors and not just sex, there aren't very many more central aspects to being an embodied person than the aspect of reproduction. And we need not be ashamed of that. God created us in this way, and even more amazingly, when we lost our way because of sin God did not merely extend forgiveness to us; he became one of us—in a human body no different from ours. The scriptures are marveled by the fact that, as it is written, “The Lord did not abhor the virgin's womb,” and the only thing more scandalous to the ancient disbelievers than the idea that the son of God could suffer and die was the idea that he could endure the indignity of being born in the flesh. But he was, and that should forever inform the way that we imagine God to be regarding bodies, and the tremendous responsibility and accountability that is ours for the manner in which we use them.
This is all pretty abstract here, not very concrete, but to a great extent it has to be. While it is true that our bodies do not belong to us—just as any of God's gifts do not, strictly speaking, belong to us, many of the decisions that we make in our lives and families and relationships and churches are , in fact, intensely personal and unique. But unlike the people of St. Paul's time we 21 st Century Western people tend to hear the word “personal” as meaning “private” and “none of your business.” It's not that it at all for a Christian. For us, “personal” must mean what it meant in bible times, i.e. a full accepting of my very specific responsibility to build up the church and the reign of God in the way that only I can do. And that happens not only by thinking correct thoughts and believing correct things. I do it just as much by using this amazing biological machine of mine for the glory of God.
But how can I know what exactly that means, what it looks like day-to-day? I (and we) can't know that apart from abiding in an enduring relationship with Jesus Christ, week in and week out, year in and year out. The Lord's will for our personal decisions rarely comes in blinding flashes of light or in ecstatic, emotional experiences. It comes instead by a steady “being with” that can't be rushed or short-circuited. That's what both Eli the priest, in today's first reading (Samuel) and Jesus himself (John) knew very well. It took three times for Samuel to report the night time summons of the Lord to his mentor before the wise old man recognized what was happening. But once he did understand, he knew how to respond, because he was familiar with the way God works.
And in gospel, when Jesus was asked by his disciples, “Where are you staying,” the answer was not “over there” or “at Peter's house.” As is so often the case in Sacred Scripture, the questions of discernment of God's will don't lend themselves well to quick, slogany, categorical answers, because the quest of discipleship is more about relationship with the Lord than it is about factual information. And relationships take time. “Come and see,” Jesus replied, “Hang around with me awhile.”
Throughout this New Year of 2012 it is certain that there will be heated debates both within our church and within our state concerning issues of morality and specifically sexual morality—matters of how we use our bodies, and why, and whose business it is to decide. We will be wise to remember that the specifically Christian gift that we can enjoy not only as individual decision-makers but as members of the church, will be a gift that will not come from political strategy or philosophical insight or individual liberties (important as all those can be). It will come from a cultivated life with Jesus Christ, which we can resolve to begin or renew immediately, so that when we are confronted with specific moral conundrums it won't have to be a matter of moving from crisis to crisis, because we'll recognize the voice of the one who wishes to guide us—together—into all happiness. We don't have to make up the rules as we go along, because we are not our own. We—including our bodies—have been claimed and purchased at great price, because we are loved just that much.
Homily 1/22/12
This is a fairly well-known choral piece written in about the year 1580 by the great sacred music composer Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina titled, “ Alma Redemptoris Mater” or in English, “Loving Mother of The Redeemer.” It is an absolutely gorgeous work of Renaissance Polyphony. And this is the Gloria from the concert Mass in C Major written in the 18 th Century by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart for a four-voice choir, two violins, three trumpets, timpiani, bass, and organ. It's loud and brilliant and overflowing with a sense of joy and majesty. And this is the well-known Deutche Mass in F by Franz Schubert, about 1825. It's a very haunting, dark, heavy piece that has well stood the test of time in sacred music.
And everything I just said is false. Here's what's true: This is a four-page piece of white paper with a lot of lines and dots on it. It makes no sound at all. It just sits there. And this is an eight-page orange paper that does exactly the same thing. And this is a 23-page booklet that only sounds like ruffling paper when I pick it up. These are not works of fine musical art. They are the instruction manuals for fine musical art, and until somebody actually weds them to an instrument, the works really don't exist—literally. And it's impossible to make music—any music—unless something moves, like breath through a vocal chord, or fingers on a keyboard, or bows on strings, or air through a reed, or pounding on a drum. Where nothing is in motion, nothing happens, and nothing matters.
This is the gospel according to Mark. But not really. It's a description of the gospel of Mark. Like those other papers, it just sits there, and it really doesn't matter what the words are until somebody moves upon them. And in our Catholic tradition especially, it really doesn't matter until everybody is moving, like an orchestra or a full-voiced choir. It's lame when only some of us move.
In today's first reading from the prophet Jonah, the first words from the mouth of God to Jonah were, “Set out.” “Set out to the great city of Nineveh—move, walk, proclaim, go. Don't just sit there.” You may be aware that this story today is not the first time that Jonah heard these words from God. He'd gotten exactly the same command two chapters earlier, but he didn't want to accept the invitation. So Jonah not only didn't go to Nineveh, he set out in the opposite direction. He moved all right, but he hit a lot of wrong notes in the process. We call that, “Sin,” when our movements don't correspond to the instructions from God. Jonah's first response didn't work out so well, which is how he ended up being thrown overboard into the sea, swallowed by the whale, and spit out on the beach. Apparently on this second occasion of being told to move, he felt a bit of incentive to follow the command of the Lord. And by the way, to “move” in this sense should not always be equated with being busy with frenetic activity. In many places throughout these instruction manuals there are orders to stop moving. Musicians call them “rests.” But rests are not instructions to do nothing. Any musical rest has a prescribed length of time before it ends, and it's for the purpose of letting others take the lead for a time, and for enhancing the greater effect of the music. Silence is often a critical part of a good work, just as it can be in a life of faith. Sometimes to move merely means to be paying attention to what's going on. Not every believer is called to a life of active prophesy, as Jonah was. But not a one of us is called to do nothing in response to God's summons.
Our gospel of Mark today is yet another reminder that to believe is to move . To change. To stop doing exactly the same things we're doing now and have become accustomed to doing. That's what repentance is—it is a call to leave some unholy patterns of relating and behaving behind so as to be free to do other things. It's a summons to move , not just to understand, but to live differently. Not just to read the score, but to make the music come alive. As we spend the bulk of this coming liturgical year immersed in the Sunday readings from the gospel of Mark, keep attentive to how much of it is in constant motion; Jesus moving from place to place, engaged in a relentless ministry of preaching and teaching and healing—punctured by moments of what could be called active resting—prayer—for the sake of carrying on again. In our gospel, Jesus is walking along the seashore, where he finds two pair of brothers who are fishermen; Simon and Andrew, James and John. “Follow me,” he says, and they do—on the spot, forsaking father, family, livelihood, property. Some scripture scholars caution that we ought not take such a story too literally, and that maybe the wives and children of these men might have wondered why their husbands were late coming home for dinner that night. But these same scholars warn us that it is equally harmful not to take such a story literally enough. When Jesus passes with the demand that we move/change/grow/repent/embrace a truly new way of living and leave some precious things behind in the process, that isn't just an instruction manual or a bit of good advice. It is an immediate demand on how we order our daily patterns of acting, doing, resting, and loving. It is a summons to move. The gospel is not just words on a page to be scanned. It is a way of engaging our rhythm of life, and forever making it more pure and clear and faithful—sometimes to rest, but never to stop.
I've asked Jeanne Dold to play for us “Alma Redemptoris Mater,” so let us hear what it really is.
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Church of St. Cecilia 2357 Bayless Place St. Paul, MN 55114 Contact Us Phone: 651.644.4502 Fax: 651.647.1445 Email: info@stceciliaspm.org |