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Me, apparently. Last night I went to a Thing at the University Meeting House, where carols were sung and readings given, poetry recited etc. There was some organ music and some pieces by the University Chamber Choir, which was pretty good, for the most part. The only thing notable about the Chamber Choir (other than the quality of their voices) is that they are heavily female-dominated (one sparse row of men in a rather tightly-packed six-row choirbox), and that consequently some of the more complex songs in which male and female voices are supposed to interweave sound a little odd. I've not seen many fields in which women overpower men so effortlessly - with equal numbers, I think the guys would have been hard pressed to keep up with the power output, but as it was, there was no real contest :)
The service itself was ... well, nice. The Meeting House is a pleasant building to begin with, with airy architecture and stained-glass windows, and to see it entirely candle-lit and filled with people is a change for the better yet. Interesting readings from various poets and thinkers, G.K.Chesterton and Christopher Smart not least among them.
I can still see the attraction in organised religion, which probably isn't that much of a surprise after being brought up Anglican. The sense of community engendered by singing together, sitting together in a darkened place, listening to authoritative speech from the minister and readers, the bass power and soprano trill of the organ... it can be quite compelling. Not least the mild anoxia induced by singing mildly complex songs at the volume levels required. I can see the attraction, but it still doesn't actually grab me, at all.
It probably didn't help the immersion effect that while I was watching the choir singing (they were directly behind me, making it necessary for me to turn partway around to see them), I thought I caught a glimpse of my old friend Melanie singing amongst them a couple of times. I know it wasn't her, because she's no longer alive. This sort of mental short-circuit is relatively common in cases of loss like this, but I wasn't expecting it because I hadn't seen her for years, and never knew her terribly well. That said, it was the first time I'd been to the Meeting House in any kind of religious context since the first year of my undergraduate degree, and she very much belonged in that context in my mind. Maybe not totally surprising, but ... unsettling. I guess I'm not as over her death as I thought.