This has been a powerful three months.
I am overwhelmed with gratitude for this tremendous gift from Mount Olive, and the board of directors and singers of the National Lutheran Choir. As I traveled, I often had to explain what I was doing, and people marveled at the fact that Mount Olive and the choir would allow such a thing. (I think it is not only something they "allow", they would probably insist on it - one NLC singer told me he selfishly wanted it to happen - he knew it would energize the next few years...). I have to say, it really made Mount Olive and NLC look good, although that would not be important to either, or the reason for the sabbatical leave.
Susan has learned through her research, that the quickest path to creativity is a break in the pattern. This opens up new pathways in the brain. This has occurred.
For me, the path to learning which goes deep and lasts long in my memory is through experience. Certainly I can read books and (shudder here) complete degrees, but there's something about my brain cells that causes things I see, hear and experience to be remembered far more effectively. This has occurred.
To those of you who helped this sabbatical occur: Thank you from the inner most depth of my being. I feel like I have made the most of this time. I did not sit on my hands and sleep these three months, although I did enjoy forgetting what day it was. I got up and went everywhere I could afford to go. (and perhaps more than we could afford....) I wanted to experience the best of the best, and did that. I also learned through (sorry to admit) negative experiences. I learned again what it's like for the visitor. I learned how important, valuable, and hospitable historic liturgy is. I was reminded about how many places exists where there are profound and wonderful things going on. I was reminded about how many hard-working folks there are who care deeply and do their best, and often without much attention for it, and sometimes are met with slaps in the face. This includes both church musicians and pastors to be sure, but I often thought of that with the airline people: flight attendants, pilots, service agents - who have been bumped around a lot lately, treated poorly by the airline yet still can smile at and with us passengers. I even kind of grew to appreciated those business super-travelers who hover at the gates to be the first to board in first-class cabin: they too are loved creations of God!
Mostly, I am grateful and excited about what we GET to be and do as Lutherans. We get to combine the wonderful imaginative organ playing I heard in France with the outstanding Choral music I heard in St. Thomas Church, New York, and we GET to sing our hearts out as a congregation, which in my experience (which now is broader) is uniquely outstanding at Mount Olive - although we do not hold exclusive rights on that. We GET to use the historic/hospitable liturgy - through which we GET to highlight something other than ourselves: God.
And this extended absence has also proven the old cliche: "absence makes the heart fonder." I have truly fallen further deep in love with the two organizations with whom we GET to share our selves: Mount Olive and the National Lutheran Choir. I am completely committed, and eager to return with many new ideas ready to go.
Luckiest guy alive.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
Thoughts/experiences as "THE VISITOR"
For most Sundays of this time on Sabbatical, I have attended many services as the venerated "visitor." Recognizing that some of my thoughts about this may be more related to my personality style I offer them for ponderage. (FYI: I rode the fence on the Meyers/Briggs introvert/extrovert chart. I do have strong extrovert tendencies, but I also gain energy through solitude. I know some of you are choking right now: "Introvert?! I don't think so!!" I actually can gain energy both ways) With that in mind, consider my thoughts about my experiences with a grain of salt, with a raised eye-brow, or ignore them. I can admit that there is the possibility that some visitors look for different things than I. Sigh.
I do NOT like attention when visiting a church. The main thing is: I'm there for the same reason everyone else there is: to worship God. To sing the faith, to hear God's word, to participate in the Holy Meal. We're all there as equals: long time "member", visitor, young, middle-aged, older, single, coupled, gay, straight, balding, thick hair, over-weight, under-weight, extrovert, introvert, all the same: all part of the much bigger picture - God's people living creatively in creation.
What comes off in many places (intentionally or unintentionally ) is that many congregations think the visitor is there BECAUSE OF THEM. There is a tendency to regard visitors as a piece of meat for the "financial and human resources" of the church membership rolls (I actually heard that phrase used in a church some time ago). Not once did I attend a church liturgy because I was thinking about membership. Not once. Yet in some places I was bombarded with commercials about membership. Makes me want to run. If someone is "interested" in that, would it not be obvious to them what to do about that and not be something that warrants mentioning all over the place?
Also - I got so tired of hearing and seeing the word "welcome" and wanted to say out loud: "If you have to say and write it so often, seems like there may be a problem". Just DO it, and do it with the sense of we're all there for the same reason. This was poignantly illustrated by a two-day experience in France. One evening at the faith community in Taize France - overwhelming efforts to say and print the word "welcome" yet I could participate very little in the liturgy, to the next evening in Vezelay France, doing evening prayer with the monks and sisters who never once made eye contact with me, but I was overwhelmed with a sense of welcome into the liturgy. Even the man with the irritating cell phone was not shunned - he too was welcome - evident because no one batted an eye at the rings of his phone or his noisy exit because the focus was God, not him, or the monks and sisters themselves. (Ok, I'm guilty. I noticed him. I need to learn a lesson from the Monks and sisters)
I loved the places where I felt one with everyone there. We all did what was planned (on our behalf) for us to do - no "target" group singled out with any special attention beyond God. Sermons were not laden with insider stories or personal "know me" stories - but were about God. Musical style was unified and expressible by all and not "audience targeted," but rather God targeted, and had purpose in the flow of the entire liturgy, and was truthful to who was there.
Most surprising were my experiences with places that simply did the historic order of liturgy, whether it was a prayer office or the Eucharist. (I know - my Lutheranism is showing!) I could participate - I knew what came up, when, why, and could do ritual with everyone because I felt the larger picture and not a local one. And I could add my practices to theirs without grand-standing. This was especially noticeable when I was in a foreign country and couldn't understand the language very well. It's at places where they "make it up" that things quickly becomes more about them - intentionally or not. And to those who claim following the historic liturgy excludes the visitor, how should one respond? Take the liturgy away from EVERYONE? If a visitor doesn't know what's coming up or understand what's going on, is the response to remove it from everyone? And why assume they don't? We should focus on understanding the power of example, or re-examine what we do and why and evaluate if this is still meaningful.
I feel it will take some years for the Church (ecumenically) to learn what happens when the church puts all the evangelism eggs into one basket: worship, which was such a huge effort in the church during the 1990's. It's a mixed agenda that can harm the body. My personal suspicion is that where this has "worked" (and define "worked" as you wish) there is something else that was also present that really made it appear "successful" (again, define "successful" as you wish - I'm not so sure it was).
True worship can only be that.
I do NOT like attention when visiting a church. The main thing is: I'm there for the same reason everyone else there is: to worship God. To sing the faith, to hear God's word, to participate in the Holy Meal. We're all there as equals: long time "member", visitor, young, middle-aged, older, single, coupled, gay, straight, balding, thick hair, over-weight, under-weight, extrovert, introvert, all the same: all part of the much bigger picture - God's people living creatively in creation.
What comes off in many places (intentionally or unintentionally ) is that many congregations think the visitor is there BECAUSE OF THEM. There is a tendency to regard visitors as a piece of meat for the "financial and human resources" of the church membership rolls (I actually heard that phrase used in a church some time ago). Not once did I attend a church liturgy because I was thinking about membership. Not once. Yet in some places I was bombarded with commercials about membership. Makes me want to run. If someone is "interested" in that, would it not be obvious to them what to do about that and not be something that warrants mentioning all over the place?
Also - I got so tired of hearing and seeing the word "welcome" and wanted to say out loud: "If you have to say and write it so often, seems like there may be a problem". Just DO it, and do it with the sense of we're all there for the same reason. This was poignantly illustrated by a two-day experience in France. One evening at the faith community in Taize France - overwhelming efforts to say and print the word "welcome" yet I could participate very little in the liturgy, to the next evening in Vezelay France, doing evening prayer with the monks and sisters who never once made eye contact with me, but I was overwhelmed with a sense of welcome into the liturgy. Even the man with the irritating cell phone was not shunned - he too was welcome - evident because no one batted an eye at the rings of his phone or his noisy exit because the focus was God, not him, or the monks and sisters themselves. (Ok, I'm guilty. I noticed him. I need to learn a lesson from the Monks and sisters)
I loved the places where I felt one with everyone there. We all did what was planned (on our behalf) for us to do - no "target" group singled out with any special attention beyond God. Sermons were not laden with insider stories or personal "know me" stories - but were about God. Musical style was unified and expressible by all and not "audience targeted," but rather God targeted, and had purpose in the flow of the entire liturgy, and was truthful to who was there.
Most surprising were my experiences with places that simply did the historic order of liturgy, whether it was a prayer office or the Eucharist. (I know - my Lutheranism is showing!) I could participate - I knew what came up, when, why, and could do ritual with everyone because I felt the larger picture and not a local one. And I could add my practices to theirs without grand-standing. This was especially noticeable when I was in a foreign country and couldn't understand the language very well. It's at places where they "make it up" that things quickly becomes more about them - intentionally or not. And to those who claim following the historic liturgy excludes the visitor, how should one respond? Take the liturgy away from EVERYONE? If a visitor doesn't know what's coming up or understand what's going on, is the response to remove it from everyone? And why assume they don't? We should focus on understanding the power of example, or re-examine what we do and why and evaluate if this is still meaningful.
I feel it will take some years for the Church (ecumenically) to learn what happens when the church puts all the evangelism eggs into one basket: worship, which was such a huge effort in the church during the 1990's. It's a mixed agenda that can harm the body. My personal suspicion is that where this has "worked" (and define "worked" as you wish) there is something else that was also present that really made it appear "successful" (again, define "successful" as you wish - I'm not so sure it was).
True worship can only be that.
Easter 3 - Wausau, WI
Another hymn festival...another shot in the arm for those hard-working leaders of the local chapter of the American Guild of Organists in Wausau, WI.
The event was held at First Presbyterian Church, downtown Wausau. It was a great event - good choir, good turn out for the congregation and community, good singing, good response. All this is mostly due to the hard work of the local planners. They really work hard for these events, and it sometimes doesn't seem fair for me to show up Friday and do the weekend in a whirlwind, and get a lot of the credit. Sigh. Anyway, it was a great experience.
It also surprised many of them for me to attend worship there. It is always a good thing to experience liturgy in contexts other than my typical place. The service was thoughtful, carefully planned and thematic - very nice to see thoughtfulness put into the mix. One practice I keep forgetting exists: for Communion, the bread and wine are brought to the people IN THEIR pews! All eat the bread right away, and wait to all drink the shot-glass (or grape-juice) at the same time. Reminded me of the "Love Feast" we experienced in a Moravian Church in Bethlehem, PA - where they did this kind of distribution with Sweet rolls and coffee (for real!! in a very ritualistic way!!), all drinking the coffee at the same moment - as the music came to its climax (and no words! Hmmmm...)
Nevertheless, it is always wonderful to witness how meaningful a congregation's worship is to them. They really do love God!
The event was held at First Presbyterian Church, downtown Wausau. It was a great event - good choir, good turn out for the congregation and community, good singing, good response. All this is mostly due to the hard work of the local planners. They really work hard for these events, and it sometimes doesn't seem fair for me to show up Friday and do the weekend in a whirlwind, and get a lot of the credit. Sigh. Anyway, it was a great experience.
It also surprised many of them for me to attend worship there. It is always a good thing to experience liturgy in contexts other than my typical place. The service was thoughtful, carefully planned and thematic - very nice to see thoughtfulness put into the mix. One practice I keep forgetting exists: for Communion, the bread and wine are brought to the people IN THEIR pews! All eat the bread right away, and wait to all drink the shot-glass (or grape-juice) at the same time. Reminded me of the "Love Feast" we experienced in a Moravian Church in Bethlehem, PA - where they did this kind of distribution with Sweet rolls and coffee (for real!! in a very ritualistic way!!), all drinking the coffee at the same moment - as the music came to its climax (and no words! Hmmmm...)
Nevertheless, it is always wonderful to witness how meaningful a congregation's worship is to them. They really do love God!
Easter 2 - Hymn Festival, WA/DC
Washington DC (er, Springfield, VA, actually)
The weekend of Easter 2 was spent at St. Mark's Lutheran Church, Springfield VA with Susan, providing a workshop all day Saturday, and a Hymn Festival Sunday afternoon. Again, these are important. The choir and the music leaders form a very active facet of this congregation's life - and these events are always a good shot in the arm for things that are so meaningful and important to them. The workshop Saturday was about choral vowels, rehearsing music for the hymn festival, accompanying hymns of varying styles, and Susan led a workshop on poetry and hymn texts. They had tremendous participation all day - a very high number from their own choir, and also area church musicians. Their own pastors attended as well, which was really nice to see.
The three music staff people there are very hard working (I'm guessing way beyond their "employment status") and committed. They were very involved all day as learners themselves as well as coordinators.
What really struck me about this place was their recent journey. (As in the past five years or so). Susan and I have been to this parish before - in fact, twice before offering hymn festivals. They have always been a place which made use of a good variety of musical style, but predominately "traditional" liturgically and musically - and were excited about that. They had, for example, put in a very good pipe organ in the past 15 years and were extremely happy with this and all it represented. A few years ago, however, a "consultant" from the ELCA came and spent one weekend with them and told them they needed to change everything by offering a contemporary service at the prime hour (11 am), and hold simultaneous Sunday School and worship. Being eagerly faithful, they took the advice to heart, implemented it, and just about destroyed the congregation. They had always been excited about high quality music and liturgy and this process sent many of their long-time members OUT THE DOOR, looking for depth in liturgy and music, feeling wounded about all the years of effort, energy, money and pieces of their heart being sent out the door with them. In the end, the "contemporary service" fizzled out and was very recently abandoned. Things are slowly coming back to life, but may never return to the fervor that was. This is more than tragic. It seems criminal.
What bothers me about this is the notion that the people there (and their journey, their contribution to what goes on there) are not of significance as they consider how to live as God's people. There may indeed be places where the recommended schedule of offerings connects with additional folks, but it's obviously not the case in places like this. And I continue to grow stronger with the feelings that: WHAT WILL DRAW THE VENERATED "VISITOR" IN will not so much be the style of what is done, but the witness of the depth and meaningfulness of those doing it. As Eric Routley said: "People won't leave saying 'what great music (or preaching) this congregation has," but rather "What a great God these people have!"
Memory is a critical part of a community's life. It needs to be in balance with vision. Take memory away and what remains is a congregation with Alzheimer's: bodies with increasingly empty souls as the memory fades. Church music can never be like the radio - because it refuses to be boxed in, delegated to an electronic speaker with participation limited to dialing until we find what we as individuals uniquely prefer, then using our ears only. We get to use our voices, with others. And the voices sing memory - the collective song. The songs of the church are people's faith journey, adopted by a the entire community.
This parish is testament to how this is true: the song will not disappear. Even after an assault, it returns to life and will bring new shoots from the old roots.
The weekend of Easter 2 was spent at St. Mark's Lutheran Church, Springfield VA with Susan, providing a workshop all day Saturday, and a Hymn Festival Sunday afternoon. Again, these are important. The choir and the music leaders form a very active facet of this congregation's life - and these events are always a good shot in the arm for things that are so meaningful and important to them. The workshop Saturday was about choral vowels, rehearsing music for the hymn festival, accompanying hymns of varying styles, and Susan led a workshop on poetry and hymn texts. They had tremendous participation all day - a very high number from their own choir, and also area church musicians. Their own pastors attended as well, which was really nice to see.
The three music staff people there are very hard working (I'm guessing way beyond their "employment status") and committed. They were very involved all day as learners themselves as well as coordinators.
What really struck me about this place was their recent journey. (As in the past five years or so). Susan and I have been to this parish before - in fact, twice before offering hymn festivals. They have always been a place which made use of a good variety of musical style, but predominately "traditional" liturgically and musically - and were excited about that. They had, for example, put in a very good pipe organ in the past 15 years and were extremely happy with this and all it represented. A few years ago, however, a "consultant" from the ELCA came and spent one weekend with them and told them they needed to change everything by offering a contemporary service at the prime hour (11 am), and hold simultaneous Sunday School and worship. Being eagerly faithful, they took the advice to heart, implemented it, and just about destroyed the congregation. They had always been excited about high quality music and liturgy and this process sent many of their long-time members OUT THE DOOR, looking for depth in liturgy and music, feeling wounded about all the years of effort, energy, money and pieces of their heart being sent out the door with them. In the end, the "contemporary service" fizzled out and was very recently abandoned. Things are slowly coming back to life, but may never return to the fervor that was. This is more than tragic. It seems criminal.
What bothers me about this is the notion that the people there (and their journey, their contribution to what goes on there) are not of significance as they consider how to live as God's people. There may indeed be places where the recommended schedule of offerings connects with additional folks, but it's obviously not the case in places like this. And I continue to grow stronger with the feelings that: WHAT WILL DRAW THE VENERATED "VISITOR" IN will not so much be the style of what is done, but the witness of the depth and meaningfulness of those doing it. As Eric Routley said: "People won't leave saying 'what great music (or preaching) this congregation has," but rather "What a great God these people have!"
Memory is a critical part of a community's life. It needs to be in balance with vision. Take memory away and what remains is a congregation with Alzheimer's: bodies with increasingly empty souls as the memory fades. Church music can never be like the radio - because it refuses to be boxed in, delegated to an electronic speaker with participation limited to dialing until we find what we as individuals uniquely prefer, then using our ears only. We get to use our voices, with others. And the voices sing memory - the collective song. The songs of the church are people's faith journey, adopted by a the entire community.
This parish is testament to how this is true: the song will not disappear. Even after an assault, it returns to life and will bring new shoots from the old roots.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Holy Week - after thoughts
This was clearly one of the top experiences of my sabbatical so far.
St Peters with their innovation and clear high participation, St. Thomas with its liturgical fullness and astounding choral work - both different experiences, but both quite invigorating. I'm full of ideas. The worst part is that I'll have to wait an entire year to put them to use. Don't worry - I'm writing them down, and I've saved all the bulletins.
I can't get over the choir and their director at St. Thomas. Every word and line, it seems, is thoroughly thought through with regard to how to sing it. Their expressive singing, variety of historical styles, clear and solid sense of harmony and pitch yet never at the expense of line was downright moving. They sang a total of 21 anthems/movements of the liturgy, 10 different psalm settings - both Gregorian and four-part Anglican chant, numerous hymn stanzas and descants. An astounding amount of work. No service felt short-changed to allow preparation time for another. How do they do it?
My experiences during these weeks have taught me to work on what great opportunity we have as Lutherans at Mount Olive, and with the National Lutheran Choir.
In France I heard the best of the improvisation (in liturgical context) for the organ. In England and at St. Thomas I heard the best of the choral tradition. Lutherans have the opportunity to analyze and think (we're not alone in that, by the way). What we can bring to the table is a synthesis of all these things. French organ improvisations, English choral tradition, embodied historical/liturgical context.
We do that to some extent already. And ours is a place where folks come to hear the CONGREGATION sing. We really have something going on there. (We're not alone, though - the folks at St. Peter's sing with amazing vibrancy too!)
However, rather than hand all the settings of the ordinary of the mass and psalms to the choir - can we come up with exciting settings (like that of Langlais) that include the people too? Same with the psalmody? Can the organ improvisation serve the singing of the hymns by the people - AND other parts of the service? I envision an improvised prelude that introduces the entire liturgy with the same purpose and function of my introductions to each hymn. Custom fit to that particular day and its thrust. And, the choir can do more: thoroughly think through and prepare all our chanting, all of our motets /anthems/settings within the flow of the liturgy. We are that church that could do something like the St. Matthew Passion on Good Friday at noon. (maybe not that huge a thing to take on both in prep time and financially, but something LIKE that). Who else?
We're going to do it all. Time to "gird our loins"!
St Peters with their innovation and clear high participation, St. Thomas with its liturgical fullness and astounding choral work - both different experiences, but both quite invigorating. I'm full of ideas. The worst part is that I'll have to wait an entire year to put them to use. Don't worry - I'm writing them down, and I've saved all the bulletins.
I can't get over the choir and their director at St. Thomas. Every word and line, it seems, is thoroughly thought through with regard to how to sing it. Their expressive singing, variety of historical styles, clear and solid sense of harmony and pitch yet never at the expense of line was downright moving. They sang a total of 21 anthems/movements of the liturgy, 10 different psalm settings - both Gregorian and four-part Anglican chant, numerous hymn stanzas and descants. An astounding amount of work. No service felt short-changed to allow preparation time for another. How do they do it?
My experiences during these weeks have taught me to work on what great opportunity we have as Lutherans at Mount Olive, and with the National Lutheran Choir.
In France I heard the best of the improvisation (in liturgical context) for the organ. In England and at St. Thomas I heard the best of the choral tradition. Lutherans have the opportunity to analyze and think (we're not alone in that, by the way). What we can bring to the table is a synthesis of all these things. French organ improvisations, English choral tradition, embodied historical/liturgical context.
We do that to some extent already. And ours is a place where folks come to hear the CONGREGATION sing. We really have something going on there. (We're not alone, though - the folks at St. Peter's sing with amazing vibrancy too!)
However, rather than hand all the settings of the ordinary of the mass and psalms to the choir - can we come up with exciting settings (like that of Langlais) that include the people too? Same with the psalmody? Can the organ improvisation serve the singing of the hymns by the people - AND other parts of the service? I envision an improvised prelude that introduces the entire liturgy with the same purpose and function of my introductions to each hymn. Custom fit to that particular day and its thrust. And, the choir can do more: thoroughly think through and prepare all our chanting, all of our motets /anthems/settings within the flow of the liturgy. We are that church that could do something like the St. Matthew Passion on Good Friday at noon. (maybe not that huge a thing to take on both in prep time and financially, but something LIKE that). Who else?
We're going to do it all. Time to "gird our loins"!
Easter Morning - St. Thomas
I couldn't wait to get back to St. Thomas for more. To be sure to get a spot, I arrived an hour and a half early. Good thing. Most of the center spots for the front third of this long and narrow nave were already taken. I was still able to find a good place, though - so I plopped down to stay in a middle spot about 8 pews back.
What a feast - in many and various ways. The half-hour prelude was for brass and organ - music by Walter Pelz (a good Lutheran - one of ours!), Gabrieli, Dupre, Bach, and Richard Strauss. Most of the major eras in music history - all beautifully done, of course. It was about a 10-12 piece brass ensemble with percussion, all clearly New York professionals. Never a clam. Never off from the ensemble. Thrilling.
The liturgy itself was extremely thrilling. (have I used that word yet?) Two procession hymns: Jesus Christ is Risen Today with John Rutter's arrangement for organ and brass, and then "The Day of Resurrection". It took that long for the full procession to occur in its fullness, and dignified pace. Smoke billowing everywhere, two crosses dressed with Lillies everyone bowing deeply for both, personnel galore. Terribly exciting.
Then the Gloria sung by the choir in Langlais' setting - with brass. The choral work at this place is truly the finest I've ever heard. This is countrapuntal - I could clearly hear each entrance, yet the counterpoint parts remained clear and musically expressive, but definitely background as another session would enter with the subject. During the gloria, he altar was censed.
The whole service was like this: thrilling moments, liturgical fullness, done with full body mind and spirit by the people in the pews without coaxing from a presider (no verbal stand/sit directions, for example - that is our job to figure out). Complete energy in singing and spoken/shouted responses. Reminded me of home.
The choir sang an anthem by Bairstow during the offering - a romantic style piece, and as I had come to expect, beautifully sung in complete romantic style. Full bodied tone, ebb and flow with rubato when appropriate, but all subtle enough to not be over the top and sappy.
The settings of the Sanctus and Agnus Dei were again that of Langlais, but with added brass. Completely thrilling.
The motets during distribution were the same set from the Vigil service, but I didn't mind hearing them again. Especially "This Joyful Eastertide".
The postlude was Gigout's "Grand Cheour Dialogue" for brass and organ. Not a clam or smudge. this piece is one of my favorites (and has been the postlude at MO for the past 4 or so years). What a thrill to hear it.
I'm exhausted, but totally invigorated. This was a completely fulfilling four days. Two contrasting parallel experiences - and important to experience the full triduum at both. The journey is a deep one, and I am grateful to have had the opportunity to do that - as a person in the pews. (Even if I did have to "look surprised" at the second proclamation of Easter...)
The good cap to the day was that my brother and my sister in law live in close by Philadelphia. I could hop a train, and still have Easter dinner with family! By 4:00 I was with them in their home. Lucky me again!
What a feast - in many and various ways. The half-hour prelude was for brass and organ - music by Walter Pelz (a good Lutheran - one of ours!), Gabrieli, Dupre, Bach, and Richard Strauss. Most of the major eras in music history - all beautifully done, of course. It was about a 10-12 piece brass ensemble with percussion, all clearly New York professionals. Never a clam. Never off from the ensemble. Thrilling.
The liturgy itself was extremely thrilling. (have I used that word yet?) Two procession hymns: Jesus Christ is Risen Today with John Rutter's arrangement for organ and brass, and then "The Day of Resurrection". It took that long for the full procession to occur in its fullness, and dignified pace. Smoke billowing everywhere, two crosses dressed with Lillies everyone bowing deeply for both, personnel galore. Terribly exciting.
Then the Gloria sung by the choir in Langlais' setting - with brass. The choral work at this place is truly the finest I've ever heard. This is countrapuntal - I could clearly hear each entrance, yet the counterpoint parts remained clear and musically expressive, but definitely background as another session would enter with the subject. During the gloria, he altar was censed.
The whole service was like this: thrilling moments, liturgical fullness, done with full body mind and spirit by the people in the pews without coaxing from a presider (no verbal stand/sit directions, for example - that is our job to figure out). Complete energy in singing and spoken/shouted responses. Reminded me of home.
The choir sang an anthem by Bairstow during the offering - a romantic style piece, and as I had come to expect, beautifully sung in complete romantic style. Full bodied tone, ebb and flow with rubato when appropriate, but all subtle enough to not be over the top and sappy.
The settings of the Sanctus and Agnus Dei were again that of Langlais, but with added brass. Completely thrilling.
The motets during distribution were the same set from the Vigil service, but I didn't mind hearing them again. Especially "This Joyful Eastertide".
The postlude was Gigout's "Grand Cheour Dialogue" for brass and organ. Not a clam or smudge. this piece is one of my favorites (and has been the postlude at MO for the past 4 or so years). What a thrill to hear it.
I'm exhausted, but totally invigorated. This was a completely fulfilling four days. Two contrasting parallel experiences - and important to experience the full triduum at both. The journey is a deep one, and I am grateful to have had the opportunity to do that - as a person in the pews. (Even if I did have to "look surprised" at the second proclamation of Easter...)
The good cap to the day was that my brother and my sister in law live in close by Philadelphia. I could hop a train, and still have Easter dinner with family! By 4:00 I was with them in their home. Lucky me again!
Two Easter Vigil services!
I was able to attend the Vigil service at St. Thomas at 5:30, and then another at St. Peter's Lutheran which started at 10 pm. Even time for a bite to eat between.
Fantastic experiences, both. I have to say that being on this side of the fence, the Triduum has a greater impact. When constantly rehearsing this music (for weeks prior) all mixed together, one doesn't get the same impact as it does for the worshippers - showing up and hearing the music in its liturgical context for the first time helps the three days unveil themselves in proper sequence. Musicians do a huge sacrifice in this way, but now I understand even more how important this is!
St. Thomas
This service was closest to our at Mount Olive in structure and liturgical/ritual action. We began in darkness with a new fire in the narthex. As the candle came down the aisle all of ours were lit - with the sung sentences. The first one started rather high, and I wondered where it would go from there. It went higher. The third time we were singing in the stratosphere - full voiced! From there to the readings: Creation, Floodd, Abraham's Sacrifice, Israel's Deliverance form the Red Sea, and the valley of the dry bones. After each, the men of the choir sang a Psalm response to a Gregorian tone. Simple but beautifully done. This choir is truly astonishing. Every line of text was clearly thought out, bringing important words, and giving a sense of direction. I was intrigued by the simplicity of doing the responses this way. It truly pointed to the Psalm and its text rather than striving to "be interesting" or clever. We, on the other hand, were silent. Not sure about that...
The choir then sang Palestrina's Sicut Cervus as transition into the baptismal service. This has to be the most beautiful rendering of this piece I've heard - every line fully blossoms, and each line (and ensemble of lines) grew to climaxes, then floated gently into cadences. Stunning.
There were four baptisms: one adult and three babies. We also renewed our Baptism. This was followed by the Great Litany of Saints (and we asked all of them by name to pray for us!) as the procession went from the font, (front side transept - similar to us!) down the side aisle, then up the center, sprinkling as they went.
This to the First Eucharist of Easter, (and people really shouted the responses) to singing "Jesus Christ is Risen Today" Couldn't sing past the lump in my throat it was so exciting and moving. The hymn just after the Homily (they don't have the tradition of the Hymn of the Day as we do) was a setting of "Christus vincit" by Gere Hancock, a former musician there. The congregation sang high "f" and "g" ! Who would have thought this possible? But they did it, and it took energy, which they (ah, "we"!) put forth!
Then this choir: Widor's "Surrexit a Mortuis" organ and choir, Sanctus and Agnus Dei by Langlais (full body chills again), then four motets during distribution: John Taverner (the 16th century one), Bassano, Dutch Carol (This Joyful Eastertide), and Scheidt's Surrexit Christus.
I can't get over this choir. Such diversity, such precision, such expression, such clean details (to the extent that one forgets about those) - such meaningful singing! "This Joyful Eastertide" was light bouyant and playful yet 100% unified in their playfulness. Astounding.
The service ended with a procession out, and the Widor Toccata as postlude. Everyone stayed to hear it.
St Peter's Lutheran
Quite the contrast! Being a very contemporary building - at the base of the Citibank Tower, the walls of glass overlook a plaza one level below street level, but the citi looks in, and we out onto the city while there. The space is kind of in the round, and they are completely flexible with their set up for every liturgy.
We casually gathered in what they call "The Livingroom" - a parish hall just off the nave. After a word or two of instruction, we went outside into the plaza for the new fire and the opening liturgy. We all then processed into the nave, standing around the altar and pascal candle during the singing of the Exultet. During this our candles were lit. Following this, we sat for the reading of the stories: Creation, Flood, Abraham being tested, Deliverance at the Red Sea, Dr Bones, Call of Johan, and the Fiery Furnace. Each was read by several people from different places in the room - not entirely taking on "roles" as a dramatic reading, but passing lines back and forth. Kind of interesting. Each reading was followed by a soloist singing an African American spiritual. (The soloist was African American himself - and very convincing, drawing us in). We, on the other hand, were silent.
This too, led to the baptism of an Adult who had been in training.
What followed was most interesting: during the singing of both the Great Litany and the Litany of Saints (yes, both) we literally took the "Light of Christ" (The Pascal Candle, and our lit candles - at least until the wind blew them out) outside, and we processed around the city block singing these responses. Very powerfull. Amongst the honking taxis, pedestrians trying to walk past and through us, we sang with vested liturgical leaders and choir singers mixed amongst us.
This led us back to the nave for the Easter Eucharist. Lights blasted on, and we sang the Gloria. (From whence cometh this tradition? I missed "Now All the Vault of Heaven Resounds"). Sequence Hymn (Christ is Arisen) reading of the Gospel, and then the chorale "Christ Jesus Lay in Death's Strong Bands" as a kind of hymn of the day. Wonderful progression.
For distribution, we gathered standing around the altar. Very moving.
The postlude, again, was Toccata from Symphony V for organ.
Very different experiences, both following the ancient pattern in different ways.
Wow.
Fantastic experiences, both. I have to say that being on this side of the fence, the Triduum has a greater impact. When constantly rehearsing this music (for weeks prior) all mixed together, one doesn't get the same impact as it does for the worshippers - showing up and hearing the music in its liturgical context for the first time helps the three days unveil themselves in proper sequence. Musicians do a huge sacrifice in this way, but now I understand even more how important this is!
St. Thomas
This service was closest to our at Mount Olive in structure and liturgical/ritual action. We began in darkness with a new fire in the narthex. As the candle came down the aisle all of ours were lit - with the sung sentences. The first one started rather high, and I wondered where it would go from there. It went higher. The third time we were singing in the stratosphere - full voiced! From there to the readings: Creation, Floodd, Abraham's Sacrifice, Israel's Deliverance form the Red Sea, and the valley of the dry bones. After each, the men of the choir sang a Psalm response to a Gregorian tone. Simple but beautifully done. This choir is truly astonishing. Every line of text was clearly thought out, bringing important words, and giving a sense of direction. I was intrigued by the simplicity of doing the responses this way. It truly pointed to the Psalm and its text rather than striving to "be interesting" or clever. We, on the other hand, were silent. Not sure about that...
The choir then sang Palestrina's Sicut Cervus as transition into the baptismal service. This has to be the most beautiful rendering of this piece I've heard - every line fully blossoms, and each line (and ensemble of lines) grew to climaxes, then floated gently into cadences. Stunning.
There were four baptisms: one adult and three babies. We also renewed our Baptism. This was followed by the Great Litany of Saints (and we asked all of them by name to pray for us!) as the procession went from the font, (front side transept - similar to us!) down the side aisle, then up the center, sprinkling as they went.
This to the First Eucharist of Easter, (and people really shouted the responses) to singing "Jesus Christ is Risen Today" Couldn't sing past the lump in my throat it was so exciting and moving. The hymn just after the Homily (they don't have the tradition of the Hymn of the Day as we do) was a setting of "Christus vincit" by Gere Hancock, a former musician there. The congregation sang high "f" and "g" ! Who would have thought this possible? But they did it, and it took energy, which they (ah, "we"!) put forth!
Then this choir: Widor's "Surrexit a Mortuis" organ and choir, Sanctus and Agnus Dei by Langlais (full body chills again), then four motets during distribution: John Taverner (the 16th century one), Bassano, Dutch Carol (This Joyful Eastertide), and Scheidt's Surrexit Christus.
I can't get over this choir. Such diversity, such precision, such expression, such clean details (to the extent that one forgets about those) - such meaningful singing! "This Joyful Eastertide" was light bouyant and playful yet 100% unified in their playfulness. Astounding.
The service ended with a procession out, and the Widor Toccata as postlude. Everyone stayed to hear it.
St Peter's Lutheran
Quite the contrast! Being a very contemporary building - at the base of the Citibank Tower, the walls of glass overlook a plaza one level below street level, but the citi looks in, and we out onto the city while there. The space is kind of in the round, and they are completely flexible with their set up for every liturgy.
We casually gathered in what they call "The Livingroom" - a parish hall just off the nave. After a word or two of instruction, we went outside into the plaza for the new fire and the opening liturgy. We all then processed into the nave, standing around the altar and pascal candle during the singing of the Exultet. During this our candles were lit. Following this, we sat for the reading of the stories: Creation, Flood, Abraham being tested, Deliverance at the Red Sea, Dr Bones, Call of Johan, and the Fiery Furnace. Each was read by several people from different places in the room - not entirely taking on "roles" as a dramatic reading, but passing lines back and forth. Kind of interesting. Each reading was followed by a soloist singing an African American spiritual. (The soloist was African American himself - and very convincing, drawing us in). We, on the other hand, were silent.
This too, led to the baptism of an Adult who had been in training.
What followed was most interesting: during the singing of both the Great Litany and the Litany of Saints (yes, both) we literally took the "Light of Christ" (The Pascal Candle, and our lit candles - at least until the wind blew them out) outside, and we processed around the city block singing these responses. Very powerfull. Amongst the honking taxis, pedestrians trying to walk past and through us, we sang with vested liturgical leaders and choir singers mixed amongst us.
This led us back to the nave for the Easter Eucharist. Lights blasted on, and we sang the Gloria. (From whence cometh this tradition? I missed "Now All the Vault of Heaven Resounds"). Sequence Hymn (Christ is Arisen) reading of the Gospel, and then the chorale "Christ Jesus Lay in Death's Strong Bands" as a kind of hymn of the day. Wonderful progression.
For distribution, we gathered standing around the altar. Very moving.
The postlude, again, was Toccata from Symphony V for organ.
Very different experiences, both following the ancient pattern in different ways.
Wow.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Good Friday
I knew it would be good to be here, but I had no idea HOW good.
I started by attending the Noon "Devotion" service at St. Peter's. It included a complete performance of Bach's St. Matthew Passion. The whole thing. In the context of a liturgy - prelude, opening sentences, scripture, Part one, Homily, and Part two, closing prayers and then singing the chorale "Lord Thee I Love". Wow. It was the church choir with local soloists - mostly from the paid quartet of the choir. They did a fabulous job - especially the Baritone (Jesus), and the Evangelist. He was especially fantastic - both sang from the heart, but not in a sappy over-emotional way. They are amazingly demanding roles but were both done extremely well. I can't imagine taking something like that on - the piece is about 2 hours 45 minutes - that's a lot of music to rehearse and study. Definately makes me think we have the opportunity to do more at Mount Olive. We're "that church" that would do something like this: a three hour liturgy on Good Friday, from 1 - 3 pm (the hours Jesus was one the cross), do something like a Bach Passion, and including having the chorales sung by all in the congregation (St Peter did not do that).
At 5:30 I went back to St. Thomas for their Good Friday service, led by the St. Thomas choir of men and boys. It was the traditional Good Friday liturgy, beginning with the chanting of the passion (using the GIA chant setting, but the crowd parts sung by the choir), followed by homily, bidding prayers, then adoration of the cross, then Eucharist (using the consecrated elements from Thursday's liturgy). Very powerful liturgy, again. But the choir again blew me away. Anthems (and motets) by Byrd, Gisualdo, Lotti - early music and chant. Very fitting. But I can't get over this choir: it truly is some of the finest choral work I've ever heard. Every note sounds fully prepared, rehearsed and unified to the point where if not paying attention to them, aren't noticed because it produces a whole effect that completely draws the listener into the essence of the piece. Each phrase has complete life, every pitch has life. Always a sense of direction - increasing (inflating) or decrescendo (deflating) - never, never, never static. Sounds automatic and natural, but I have a feeling this is drilled. Even their Gregorian chant was this way - always a sense of direction in the sentence being chanted, always the goal, important words stretched exactly together. Cadences floated into, and barely any sound for the final note as the room gathers the phrase into the cadence.
Lotti's Crucifixus (an 8-part piece) completely removed me from time and space. Each entrance discernable, and full of life. Long lines would soar out above others, then deflating as another takes over - inner lines, corporate dynamics - it built to a huge climax, then deflated to the point of a final cadence during which one could hear a pin drop, yet it was consistent, clean, clear and even tone at the quietest level possible - always total control and support. Astounding.
Then at 7:00 I went two blocks east back to St Peter's for their evening Good Friday service. I arrived as they were starting a dramatic telling of the Passion. More of a Theater production, but effective. It ended with one large wood cross in the middle of the room, lit with candles. Very Taize-like atmosphere. The reproaches were then sung, using the Orthodox Trisagian in the ELW. However, he had someone chanting the text in a style that sounded like a Russian Orthodox cantor - very powerful way to express these prayers.
Whew. This time, however, I ran into people I knew (Larry Long, Martin Jean, Thomas Schmidt) and had a very nice dinner afterwards. Will probably need sell a car to pay for that though.
I started by attending the Noon "Devotion" service at St. Peter's. It included a complete performance of Bach's St. Matthew Passion. The whole thing. In the context of a liturgy - prelude, opening sentences, scripture, Part one, Homily, and Part two, closing prayers and then singing the chorale "Lord Thee I Love". Wow. It was the church choir with local soloists - mostly from the paid quartet of the choir. They did a fabulous job - especially the Baritone (Jesus), and the Evangelist. He was especially fantastic - both sang from the heart, but not in a sappy over-emotional way. They are amazingly demanding roles but were both done extremely well. I can't imagine taking something like that on - the piece is about 2 hours 45 minutes - that's a lot of music to rehearse and study. Definately makes me think we have the opportunity to do more at Mount Olive. We're "that church" that would do something like this: a three hour liturgy on Good Friday, from 1 - 3 pm (the hours Jesus was one the cross), do something like a Bach Passion, and including having the chorales sung by all in the congregation (St Peter did not do that).
At 5:30 I went back to St. Thomas for their Good Friday service, led by the St. Thomas choir of men and boys. It was the traditional Good Friday liturgy, beginning with the chanting of the passion (using the GIA chant setting, but the crowd parts sung by the choir), followed by homily, bidding prayers, then adoration of the cross, then Eucharist (using the consecrated elements from Thursday's liturgy). Very powerful liturgy, again. But the choir again blew me away. Anthems (and motets) by Byrd, Gisualdo, Lotti - early music and chant. Very fitting. But I can't get over this choir: it truly is some of the finest choral work I've ever heard. Every note sounds fully prepared, rehearsed and unified to the point where if not paying attention to them, aren't noticed because it produces a whole effect that completely draws the listener into the essence of the piece. Each phrase has complete life, every pitch has life. Always a sense of direction - increasing (inflating) or decrescendo (deflating) - never, never, never static. Sounds automatic and natural, but I have a feeling this is drilled. Even their Gregorian chant was this way - always a sense of direction in the sentence being chanted, always the goal, important words stretched exactly together. Cadences floated into, and barely any sound for the final note as the room gathers the phrase into the cadence.
Lotti's Crucifixus (an 8-part piece) completely removed me from time and space. Each entrance discernable, and full of life. Long lines would soar out above others, then deflating as another takes over - inner lines, corporate dynamics - it built to a huge climax, then deflated to the point of a final cadence during which one could hear a pin drop, yet it was consistent, clean, clear and even tone at the quietest level possible - always total control and support. Astounding.
Then at 7:00 I went two blocks east back to St Peter's for their evening Good Friday service. I arrived as they were starting a dramatic telling of the Passion. More of a Theater production, but effective. It ended with one large wood cross in the middle of the room, lit with candles. Very Taize-like atmosphere. The reproaches were then sung, using the Orthodox Trisagian in the ELW. However, he had someone chanting the text in a style that sounded like a Russian Orthodox cantor - very powerful way to express these prayers.
Whew. This time, however, I ran into people I knew (Larry Long, Martin Jean, Thomas Schmidt) and had a very nice dinner afterwards. Will probably need sell a car to pay for that though.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Maundy Thursday - Manhattan
Oh my gosh. I'm still picking my jaw up off the floor. That's where I have to start after my Maundy Thursday experience at St. Thomas Church in Manhattan. This liturgy was outstanding, the choir unbelievable.
The conductor is John Scott, who moved here from St. Paul's in London last summer. This is some of the finest choral singing I have heard since NLC! (Sorry, a bit of bias coming through there..) Extremely precise, expressive, details in place, etc. - one gets immediately drawn into the music (and not its production) in that case. For this service, the first of many the men and boy choir is leading in these four days, they sang a mass by Poulenc (I've never heard it - some absolutely stunning moments) - Gloria and all! An additional motet by Poulenc, and two motets by Durufle. It was one of the move beautiful interpretations of Durufle's Ubi Caritas I have heard. They also did an Anglican plainsong Psalm - as tight as it can be, and fully expressive of the text. They also did Gregorian Chants, very traditional English Hymnody (and people actually sang!!), and full liturgical rubrical observance. Incense and all. People there (and there were a lot of people in attendance) were fully involved in the ritual, eager to be there.
The service ended with a complete surprise - I'm eager to learn where this practice comes from. At the stripping of the altar, the men of the choir sang Psalm 22 to a Gregorian tone, the last thing the Presiding minister did was wipe off the top of the altar (it sounded almost like sandpaper, actually), then threw the rag or whatever it was onto the floor. At that point there was a loud noise, lights went off, men suddenly stopped singing, the boys RAN out, all the way down the center aisle, then back up the side aisle to the sacristy. As fast as they could. Of course I was trying not to giggle, but the impact of this drama sank in as the evening progressed with an outrageously expensive dinner.
I hadn't planned on going there that night, but was Good Friday, a 5:30 Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday, then Sunday morning. But I decided to find where it was early in the afternoon, and noticed they had a 5:30 service. I thought I'd go there, then somewhere else. I never made it anywhere else, and I can't wait to go back there to see what's next. When I had stepped into the place earlier in the afternoon I heard the organist practicing Langlais' Messe Solennelle - Ooo-baby - the suspense is killing me. When are they going to use that? It's one of the most stunning settings of the Sanctus ever (Remember Bruce Bengtson having introduced me to it?), the only potential rival being that of Durufle in his Requiem.
This means I will be feasting through the entire Triduum in two parishes - their schedules allow this. St. Thomas and St. Peters Lutheran Church.
St. Thomas is an Anglican parish which runs a boarding-choir school for boys up to 8th grade. I've never heard such amazing musicianship. St. Peters' is an ELCA Lutheran parish at the bottom of the Citi-bank tower. They do very traditional things with a creative/contemporary touch. (Contemporary in the GOOD sense of the word: not cheap, commercialist music).
Now I have to find ways to have dinner without taking out a loan.
The conductor is John Scott, who moved here from St. Paul's in London last summer. This is some of the finest choral singing I have heard since NLC! (Sorry, a bit of bias coming through there..) Extremely precise, expressive, details in place, etc. - one gets immediately drawn into the music (and not its production) in that case. For this service, the first of many the men and boy choir is leading in these four days, they sang a mass by Poulenc (I've never heard it - some absolutely stunning moments) - Gloria and all! An additional motet by Poulenc, and two motets by Durufle. It was one of the move beautiful interpretations of Durufle's Ubi Caritas I have heard. They also did an Anglican plainsong Psalm - as tight as it can be, and fully expressive of the text. They also did Gregorian Chants, very traditional English Hymnody (and people actually sang!!), and full liturgical rubrical observance. Incense and all. People there (and there were a lot of people in attendance) were fully involved in the ritual, eager to be there.
The service ended with a complete surprise - I'm eager to learn where this practice comes from. At the stripping of the altar, the men of the choir sang Psalm 22 to a Gregorian tone, the last thing the Presiding minister did was wipe off the top of the altar (it sounded almost like sandpaper, actually), then threw the rag or whatever it was onto the floor. At that point there was a loud noise, lights went off, men suddenly stopped singing, the boys RAN out, all the way down the center aisle, then back up the side aisle to the sacristy. As fast as they could. Of course I was trying not to giggle, but the impact of this drama sank in as the evening progressed with an outrageously expensive dinner.
I hadn't planned on going there that night, but was Good Friday, a 5:30 Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday, then Sunday morning. But I decided to find where it was early in the afternoon, and noticed they had a 5:30 service. I thought I'd go there, then somewhere else. I never made it anywhere else, and I can't wait to go back there to see what's next. When I had stepped into the place earlier in the afternoon I heard the organist practicing Langlais' Messe Solennelle - Ooo-baby - the suspense is killing me. When are they going to use that? It's one of the most stunning settings of the Sanctus ever (Remember Bruce Bengtson having introduced me to it?), the only potential rival being that of Durufle in his Requiem.
This means I will be feasting through the entire Triduum in two parishes - their schedules allow this. St. Thomas and St. Peters Lutheran Church.
St. Thomas is an Anglican parish which runs a boarding-choir school for boys up to 8th grade. I've never heard such amazing musicianship. St. Peters' is an ELCA Lutheran parish at the bottom of the Citi-bank tower. They do very traditional things with a creative/contemporary touch. (Contemporary in the GOOD sense of the word: not cheap, commercialist music).
Now I have to find ways to have dinner without taking out a loan.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Palm Sunday - Madison, WI
I knew that one of my sabbatical stops had to be Luther Memorial Church in Madison Wisconsin, and if possible, spend time with my colleague and friend , Bruce Bengtson - the musician there.
This is a parish quite similar to Mount Olive liturgically. They have "held on" and do liturgy well with high quality music. The choir does an enormous amount of good literature, all in the context of the liturgy. The people own what happens, and I felt a very healthy atmosphere there. It clearly wasn't about them - it was about God, and what the people were there to do: worship God. No insider/outsider atmosphere, no "visitor" hunt for new membership meat. Very refreshing.
The Palm/Passion liturgy was lovely - very similar to what we do at Mount Olive, beginning in the narthex, processing to the hymn "All Glory Laud and Honor" - changing of the vestments, reading of the passion to the Eucharist. Very tastefully done, a variety of ages involved, people singing in the pews, fabulous leadership from the organ (which encouraged singing), and a wonderful postlude by Langlais - for which many stayed to hear. The choir sang two anthems, one by Richard Proulx, the other "Ubi Caritas" by Durufle - one of my favorites. I was completely drawn into the liturgy, could sing, could bow and not be alone - it truly felt like home.
Time with Bruce always changes me. I'd like to tell you about this man, who I revere to be one of the finest Lutheran church musicians in the country.
Bruce has been here for 30 years. Here is a person who's life is: 1. GOD, 2. MUSIC, with an intrinsic and intense love for both and in that order. He lives simply, alone in the same small one bedroom apartment he's had since I met him well over 20 years ago. (We met through the Association of Lutheran Church Musicians in 1986,m both of us about 5 years out of school, the young bucks starting out. ) It's enough. Why would he need more?
Spending time with Bruce is always an eye opening experience, in a number of ways. He loves music in such a deep way, he can't help but share his latest discovery or passion: literature on a CD, or a score he's come upon. He hunts for interesting choral literature through CD's, friends recommendations, or through his travels (He particularly enjoys Scandanavia). Finding one piece usually leads to another on a CD, or through a publisher hunt in locating a piece. In any case, I know no one who finds things like Bruce does. And he actually uses the literature he finds in the context of the litturgy. His choir is one of the luckiest that way. One of the choir singers told me: "We'll get a score with eight to ten staves - wondering how in the world.. but then he'll tell us how, and it works. Now we don't even think about that when scores are handed out..." They clearly feel very good about what they do: it makes it worth their time.
The choral library at Lutheran Memorial is phenomenal because of Bruce's quests. While I was there, he went through the file drawers to show me some of his finds. He kept stopping going "OOh, have you seen this?! It's so lovely" and would loose himself for a minute as his mind played the music. If he had found a lovely piece but in a foreign language or non-so-appropriate text for liturgy, he'd translate it into English, or find a text with a meter that could fit the piece. Drawer after drawer the enthusiasm never waned, and we wound up with a stack of music for me to take home to study, locate or copy, then send back. I have music by Sweelinck, Kverno, Otto Olsson, Chesnokov, Healy Willan, Georg Schumann, Reinberger, Praetorius and man y others. It's choral music from around the world.
After taking me out to diner, we went to his apartment, where the CD listening began. "Have you heard this?! Ooo - you're going to love it" And we would. Being with him in this is a lesson in music appreciation, and learning what to listen for as he points out a wonderful phrase, cadence, or line of text. (I noticed there was no TV in his apartment, but hundreds of CD's - hmmm, I have a feeling I know what goes on instead of TV)
Most of the CD's he has are from traveling, or catalogues he's found on line, or from special order. Many are CD's of all the music of a particular composer that a European Choir took to doing. Few are mainstream CD's the rest of us find at Barnes and Noble.
For example, Georg Schumann, a 19th-20th c German composer of church music - mostly choral. Many of us know one or two of his pieces (Such as "Yea Though I Wander). Bruce would ask, what else has he written? Is it on CD with other pieces we can find? In this case, quite a bit. He found an English Choir who had recorded all the works of Schumann. On these CD's were several other pieces of great interest, so he hunts for the scores. "From Heaven Above", or a piece I'll be using: "With Peace and Joy I Depart". This composer wrote quite a bit - and much of it quite useful for either the church choir, or the National Lutheran Choir. To find more from this composer is exciting.
It was Bruce who years ago had me listen to Langlais' Messe Solonelle over which I totally flipped. Since then I've recorded it, and have discovered the entire line of similar literature from France. Widor, Vierne, Dupre - all composed similar things before Langlais. All of terribly exciting. It changed my life. And now I "retreat" to Paris. It was Bruce who first told me about "Musica Russica" a company who makes Russian Choral available and accessible with transliterations and pronunciation guides. It was also Bruce who introduced me to Alice Parker who changed my life. Alice taught me to appreciate melody, and to notice from whence a tune cometh and bring that out in musical treatments of the melody.
Another eye-opening dimension to spending time with Bruce: his aspirations are simple. Love God, and be God's faithful servant where you are plopped. He only has what he truly needs. He doesn't seek fame, or a bigger and more hip parish, or academic blessing - he simply loves God and music, and making the music with the people where he serves; Luther Memorial. The parish has been through ups and downs during the time I've known him, but he remains steadfast. He doesn't ask the question about life: "Can there be more" He simply is satisfied: "It is enough". Except, of course, when it comes to choral literature, which he savors, searches and shares. This is grace, compassion and living the love of Christ.
What a gift to us all, what a gift to God.
This is a parish quite similar to Mount Olive liturgically. They have "held on" and do liturgy well with high quality music. The choir does an enormous amount of good literature, all in the context of the liturgy. The people own what happens, and I felt a very healthy atmosphere there. It clearly wasn't about them - it was about God, and what the people were there to do: worship God. No insider/outsider atmosphere, no "visitor" hunt for new membership meat. Very refreshing.
The Palm/Passion liturgy was lovely - very similar to what we do at Mount Olive, beginning in the narthex, processing to the hymn "All Glory Laud and Honor" - changing of the vestments, reading of the passion to the Eucharist. Very tastefully done, a variety of ages involved, people singing in the pews, fabulous leadership from the organ (which encouraged singing), and a wonderful postlude by Langlais - for which many stayed to hear. The choir sang two anthems, one by Richard Proulx, the other "Ubi Caritas" by Durufle - one of my favorites. I was completely drawn into the liturgy, could sing, could bow and not be alone - it truly felt like home.
Time with Bruce always changes me. I'd like to tell you about this man, who I revere to be one of the finest Lutheran church musicians in the country.
Bruce has been here for 30 years. Here is a person who's life is: 1. GOD, 2. MUSIC, with an intrinsic and intense love for both and in that order. He lives simply, alone in the same small one bedroom apartment he's had since I met him well over 20 years ago. (We met through the Association of Lutheran Church Musicians in 1986,m both of us about 5 years out of school, the young bucks starting out. ) It's enough. Why would he need more?
Spending time with Bruce is always an eye opening experience, in a number of ways. He loves music in such a deep way, he can't help but share his latest discovery or passion: literature on a CD, or a score he's come upon. He hunts for interesting choral literature through CD's, friends recommendations, or through his travels (He particularly enjoys Scandanavia). Finding one piece usually leads to another on a CD, or through a publisher hunt in locating a piece. In any case, I know no one who finds things like Bruce does. And he actually uses the literature he finds in the context of the litturgy. His choir is one of the luckiest that way. One of the choir singers told me: "We'll get a score with eight to ten staves - wondering how in the world.. but then he'll tell us how, and it works. Now we don't even think about that when scores are handed out..." They clearly feel very good about what they do: it makes it worth their time.
The choral library at Lutheran Memorial is phenomenal because of Bruce's quests. While I was there, he went through the file drawers to show me some of his finds. He kept stopping going "OOh, have you seen this?! It's so lovely" and would loose himself for a minute as his mind played the music. If he had found a lovely piece but in a foreign language or non-so-appropriate text for liturgy, he'd translate it into English, or find a text with a meter that could fit the piece. Drawer after drawer the enthusiasm never waned, and we wound up with a stack of music for me to take home to study, locate or copy, then send back. I have music by Sweelinck, Kverno, Otto Olsson, Chesnokov, Healy Willan, Georg Schumann, Reinberger, Praetorius and man y others. It's choral music from around the world.
After taking me out to diner, we went to his apartment, where the CD listening began. "Have you heard this?! Ooo - you're going to love it" And we would. Being with him in this is a lesson in music appreciation, and learning what to listen for as he points out a wonderful phrase, cadence, or line of text. (I noticed there was no TV in his apartment, but hundreds of CD's - hmmm, I have a feeling I know what goes on instead of TV)
Most of the CD's he has are from traveling, or catalogues he's found on line, or from special order. Many are CD's of all the music of a particular composer that a European Choir took to doing. Few are mainstream CD's the rest of us find at Barnes and Noble.
For example, Georg Schumann, a 19th-20th c German composer of church music - mostly choral. Many of us know one or two of his pieces (Such as "Yea Though I Wander). Bruce would ask, what else has he written? Is it on CD with other pieces we can find? In this case, quite a bit. He found an English Choir who had recorded all the works of Schumann. On these CD's were several other pieces of great interest, so he hunts for the scores. "From Heaven Above", or a piece I'll be using: "With Peace and Joy I Depart". This composer wrote quite a bit - and much of it quite useful for either the church choir, or the National Lutheran Choir. To find more from this composer is exciting.
It was Bruce who years ago had me listen to Langlais' Messe Solonelle over which I totally flipped. Since then I've recorded it, and have discovered the entire line of similar literature from France. Widor, Vierne, Dupre - all composed similar things before Langlais. All of terribly exciting. It changed my life. And now I "retreat" to Paris. It was Bruce who first told me about "Musica Russica" a company who makes Russian Choral available and accessible with transliterations and pronunciation guides. It was also Bruce who introduced me to Alice Parker who changed my life. Alice taught me to appreciate melody, and to notice from whence a tune cometh and bring that out in musical treatments of the melody.
Another eye-opening dimension to spending time with Bruce: his aspirations are simple. Love God, and be God's faithful servant where you are plopped. He only has what he truly needs. He doesn't seek fame, or a bigger and more hip parish, or academic blessing - he simply loves God and music, and making the music with the people where he serves; Luther Memorial. The parish has been through ups and downs during the time I've known him, but he remains steadfast. He doesn't ask the question about life: "Can there be more" He simply is satisfied: "It is enough". Except, of course, when it comes to choral literature, which he savors, searches and shares. This is grace, compassion and living the love of Christ.
What a gift to us all, what a gift to God.
Lent 5 - Minneapolis
Before heading off to Florida to do nothing there, I attended the morning service for the Fifth Sunday of Lent at the Basilica of St Mary, in Minneapolis.
A full and beautiful liturgy - and the place was full. A variety of people in attendance: young and old (with lots of children), what appeared to be people of varying racial backgrounds, gay and straight, very prim and proper types alongside of not-so-prim and proper types - all together as one. Loved it.
Gregorian chant started the service which immediately put me into a mystical zone. The choir was quite fine, and sang a number of things. The ordinary of the liturgy was composed by a composer in residence, and was OK. We only sang one hymn, however, and sang loads of REFRAINS - and each time led by a heavily mic'd singer. I really detest this practice - it actually squashes our song instead of doing what it is supposed to do, which is encourage the song. We (and the people around me) are capable of singing more than refrains intellectually and musically. It's time to move beyond these training wheels the Roman Catholic church instituted after Vatican II. Folks are brighter than this.
A full and beautiful liturgy - and the place was full. A variety of people in attendance: young and old (with lots of children), what appeared to be people of varying racial backgrounds, gay and straight, very prim and proper types alongside of not-so-prim and proper types - all together as one. Loved it.
Gregorian chant started the service which immediately put me into a mystical zone. The choir was quite fine, and sang a number of things. The ordinary of the liturgy was composed by a composer in residence, and was OK. We only sang one hymn, however, and sang loads of REFRAINS - and each time led by a heavily mic'd singer. I really detest this practice - it actually squashes our song instead of doing what it is supposed to do, which is encourage the song. We (and the people around me) are capable of singing more than refrains intellectually and musically. It's time to move beyond these training wheels the Roman Catholic church instituted after Vatican II. Folks are brighter than this.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
One week home
For the first time since January 15th - I've been home for an entire week.
The program we had scheduled for Kansas City postponed, so that makes for TWO WEEKS at home, with nothing "scheduled".
This is hard! Now at the end of the first week, without rehearsals to prepare for, without liturgies to prepare for, what have I accomplished? I did compose a piece that I had promised for an April program. That took about a half day. I put a new faucet in the kitchen sink. That took one hour.
What did I do?
Can't say. But it sure feels good. No alarm. I watched American Idol - an interesting process, and study of human interaction!! Sabboth (sabbatical) means rest - I guess that's a pretty significant accomplishment.
Maybe that was it.
I miss the people and work, and look forward to the return.
I guess I'll just go off to Florida to "do nothing there" using free miles, and accept the generosity of a friend with an empty condo there. That's it. I'll do nothing there for a few days.
Why not?
The program we had scheduled for Kansas City postponed, so that makes for TWO WEEKS at home, with nothing "scheduled".
This is hard! Now at the end of the first week, without rehearsals to prepare for, without liturgies to prepare for, what have I accomplished? I did compose a piece that I had promised for an April program. That took about a half day. I put a new faucet in the kitchen sink. That took one hour.
What did I do?
Can't say. But it sure feels good. No alarm. I watched American Idol - an interesting process, and study of human interaction!! Sabboth (sabbatical) means rest - I guess that's a pretty significant accomplishment.
Maybe that was it.
I miss the people and work, and look forward to the return.
I guess I'll just go off to Florida to "do nothing there" using free miles, and accept the generosity of a friend with an empty condo there. That's it. I'll do nothing there for a few days.
Why not?
Fourth Sunday in Lent - in Minneapolis
The Fourth Sunday in Lent was wonderful, very interesting, and: AT HOME.
I spent the morning attending worship at Mount Olive. Beautiful liturgy, done by all. It is a wonderful thing to participate as a person-in-the-pews, witnessing the depth of meaning brought to the song, actions, and entire flow of the liturgy through the worshipers themselves. I am absolutely lucky to be able to "hang my hat" at this place, and associate with these people.
The afternoon I attended the NLC concert - again; as a person-in-the-pews. I had intentionally not studied the music they were to perform so that I would experience the concert truly as most audiences do. It was deeply moving, and again: I'm such a lucky person to be able to associate with these talented, spiritual beings.
What the day really taught me is this: We have some of the best and deepest of things are right here in this river-city. One doesn't need to travel the world to find it. It's here.
Savor.
I spent the morning attending worship at Mount Olive. Beautiful liturgy, done by all. It is a wonderful thing to participate as a person-in-the-pews, witnessing the depth of meaning brought to the song, actions, and entire flow of the liturgy through the worshipers themselves. I am absolutely lucky to be able to "hang my hat" at this place, and associate with these people.
The afternoon I attended the NLC concert - again; as a person-in-the-pews. I had intentionally not studied the music they were to perform so that I would experience the concert truly as most audiences do. It was deeply moving, and again: I'm such a lucky person to be able to associate with these talented, spiritual beings.
What the day really taught me is this: We have some of the best and deepest of things are right here in this river-city. One doesn't need to travel the world to find it. It's here.
Savor.
Two other stops in France
Before heading back, two additional stops warrant mentioning.
1. Fluta-a-pan - is a music store near the Opera in Paris. I spent a morning there going through browser boxes of choral music. Came home with many pieces I never knew about which we will sing both in NLC and at Mount Olive! Pieces by Widor, Alain, Faure, and others. Who knew? Love those browser boxes!
2. A Citroen car dealer! These are the coolest and most interesting cars! Gizmos and design that has always been years ahead of other car makers. Too bad we can't get them in the states!
Home....
1. Fluta-a-pan - is a music store near the Opera in Paris. I spent a morning there going through browser boxes of choral music. Came home with many pieces I never knew about which we will sing both in NLC and at Mount Olive! Pieces by Widor, Alain, Faure, and others. Who knew? Love those browser boxes!
2. A Citroen car dealer! These are the coolest and most interesting cars! Gizmos and design that has always been years ahead of other car makers. Too bad we can't get them in the states!
Home....
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
France: Cluny, Taize, Vezelay
Cluny
South of Dijon, in the Loire Valley (and Cotes d'Or) sits the little village of Cluny. Dating back to the 10th century an Abby was built here with a Cathedral as large (perhaps larger) than St. Peter's in Rome. Huge. Much of it is gone, but ruins remain - and a museum is there. One of the transcepts is left, and entering that gives one the scope of the immense size of this place. Astounding. It's also a charming village.
I heard in my head many times over that day the line from "O God Our Help in Ages Past" which says: "A thousand ages in thy sight are like an evening gone." Truly - bone chilling to imagine something in use so long ago as this - again, we are mere bleaps in time in the grand picture.
I bought a CD of Gregorian Chant from the museum to play in the car for the rest of this two day jaunt.
Oh, and yes: along the way some astounding wine tasting in Nuit St. Georges - one of the central areas producing some of the finest Pinor Noir in the world. It was like silk, and chocolate! But again, since it was off-season, I never had company in any of these vintners shops, and they all had to open a new bottle for me. EEEk.
TAIZE
Just outside of Cluny is Taize - an international retreat center known for its short refrain-mantra-type songs, and spiritually deep prayer services. People come from all over the world to this place, but I witnessed mostly Europeans. It stuck me very much like an international version of Holden Village.
I attended an Evening Prayer service. Beautiful setting, even if it was temporary, since they were doing some work on their main chapel. Candles, plants, icons, kneeling people all over - very spiritual-mindset inducing.
It's interesting for me to ponder: these counter-culture places with their expressions spring up, and young people flock to them. But it becomes a culture itself, full of its own ritual, expectations, it's own memory and as a result an unintentional insider/outsider culture develops. Even the room had an "inner santcum" where the the Brothers of the order entered (through their own door) and prayed - with a fence of plants around them, and the rest of on the outside of that area. Throughout the liturgy, most there seemed to know what to do, and knew all the songs. I did not, even though I am familiar with a lot of their songs.
While this sounds like I'm suggesting this is a bad thing, it's not. What goes on here, and eminated from here has touched thousands upon thousands of worshippers and seekers. Their songs are now included in most denominational hymnals. The culturization is an inevitable thing, and pieces of it become part of the larger picture in the story of God's people at worship.
I couldn't do much, though. The songs were unfamiliar and too complicated for me to pick up (except one). I couldn't understand much either, even though once and a while I'd hear English.. The accompaniment was of all things: an electronic keybord, immitating a lute. Ick.
I guess I'm no longer in a personal space to resonate to this kind of experience. But I am glad I was there. We sing their music - I like to go to the origins when possible!
Vezelay
A bit north again, I took the tiniest roads I could find - and happened upon the most stunning views and sights as I wound my way through the mountains to Vezelay.
This is another site of a 10th century abby - Benedictines. There, stands at the very top of a mountain, a basilica - an absolutely huge basilica and convent/monestary. Still in use. It's another one-road town, climbing up the last part of the hill to the basilica, with tiny shops and restaurants. Absolutely charming. I got a room, and walked up the hill.
Serendipity strikes again: the bells toll, because the monks and sisters do Vespers at 6. I went, as did about 8 other tourists. It was stunningly beautiful. First of all, I was about 15 minutes early, and witnessed already many sisters and monks sitting in total silence. At the hour, they all stood and sang from memory. A leader chanting, then all in four parts! And I could understand exactly what they were singing - in part because of the language, but also because they followed the historic order - and I knew which canticles were sung, and when. We had a psalm book, and they simply said the number - we could do that too. I was completely struck by its beauty, reverence, importance, and the sounds of this very solid four part chanting. Kind of like French/Catholic Byzantine style. But I was fully drawn into the prayer service.
Now back to Paris for the flight home. I ready for that. My tongue and brain hurt from trying to speak and understand this language. But it get better the more I do it, but it will be nice to not have to work so hard in communicating. It really does make one feel unintelligent!
South of Dijon, in the Loire Valley (and Cotes d'Or) sits the little village of Cluny. Dating back to the 10th century an Abby was built here with a Cathedral as large (perhaps larger) than St. Peter's in Rome. Huge. Much of it is gone, but ruins remain - and a museum is there. One of the transcepts is left, and entering that gives one the scope of the immense size of this place. Astounding. It's also a charming village.
I heard in my head many times over that day the line from "O God Our Help in Ages Past" which says: "A thousand ages in thy sight are like an evening gone." Truly - bone chilling to imagine something in use so long ago as this - again, we are mere bleaps in time in the grand picture.
I bought a CD of Gregorian Chant from the museum to play in the car for the rest of this two day jaunt.
Oh, and yes: along the way some astounding wine tasting in Nuit St. Georges - one of the central areas producing some of the finest Pinor Noir in the world. It was like silk, and chocolate! But again, since it was off-season, I never had company in any of these vintners shops, and they all had to open a new bottle for me. EEEk.
TAIZE
Just outside of Cluny is Taize - an international retreat center known for its short refrain-mantra-type songs, and spiritually deep prayer services. People come from all over the world to this place, but I witnessed mostly Europeans. It stuck me very much like an international version of Holden Village.
I attended an Evening Prayer service. Beautiful setting, even if it was temporary, since they were doing some work on their main chapel. Candles, plants, icons, kneeling people all over - very spiritual-mindset inducing.
It's interesting for me to ponder: these counter-culture places with their expressions spring up, and young people flock to them. But it becomes a culture itself, full of its own ritual, expectations, it's own memory and as a result an unintentional insider/outsider culture develops. Even the room had an "inner santcum" where the the Brothers of the order entered (through their own door) and prayed - with a fence of plants around them, and the rest of on the outside of that area. Throughout the liturgy, most there seemed to know what to do, and knew all the songs. I did not, even though I am familiar with a lot of their songs.
While this sounds like I'm suggesting this is a bad thing, it's not. What goes on here, and eminated from here has touched thousands upon thousands of worshippers and seekers. Their songs are now included in most denominational hymnals. The culturization is an inevitable thing, and pieces of it become part of the larger picture in the story of God's people at worship.
I couldn't do much, though. The songs were unfamiliar and too complicated for me to pick up (except one). I couldn't understand much either, even though once and a while I'd hear English.. The accompaniment was of all things: an electronic keybord, immitating a lute. Ick.
I guess I'm no longer in a personal space to resonate to this kind of experience. But I am glad I was there. We sing their music - I like to go to the origins when possible!
Vezelay
A bit north again, I took the tiniest roads I could find - and happened upon the most stunning views and sights as I wound my way through the mountains to Vezelay.
This is another site of a 10th century abby - Benedictines. There, stands at the very top of a mountain, a basilica - an absolutely huge basilica and convent/monestary. Still in use. It's another one-road town, climbing up the last part of the hill to the basilica, with tiny shops and restaurants. Absolutely charming. I got a room, and walked up the hill.
Serendipity strikes again: the bells toll, because the monks and sisters do Vespers at 6. I went, as did about 8 other tourists. It was stunningly beautiful. First of all, I was about 15 minutes early, and witnessed already many sisters and monks sitting in total silence. At the hour, they all stood and sang from memory. A leader chanting, then all in four parts! And I could understand exactly what they were singing - in part because of the language, but also because they followed the historic order - and I knew which canticles were sung, and when. We had a psalm book, and they simply said the number - we could do that too. I was completely struck by its beauty, reverence, importance, and the sounds of this very solid four part chanting. Kind of like French/Catholic Byzantine style. But I was fully drawn into the prayer service.
Now back to Paris for the flight home. I ready for that. My tongue and brain hurt from trying to speak and understand this language. But it get better the more I do it, but it will be nice to not have to work so hard in communicating. It really does make one feel unintelligent!
Lent 3 - Second weekend, back in Paris
Seems funny to call Paris "home" but during these two weeks over here, that's how it feels. My jaunt south was fun, but it was nice to get back to familiarity. Although it is as one writer said it was: like going from solitude into being plopped directly into the busiest ant hill there is. "Move it, or loose it" is the motto here!
St. Suplice
I attended the morning Eucharist at St. Sulpice. This is the church where Charles Marie Widor and Marcel Dupre served as organists. The practice at St. Sulpice is to begin with a 15 minute organ prelude before the mass, then the mass, then a half-hour organ recital. The associate organist was on deck today, Sophie-Veronique Chaushefir-Choplin. (all of that really is her name, although I had better check that spelling). The prelude was a 15 minute improvisation which was very interesting - some ideas for me to adopt. I really like the idea of improvisation as the last part of the prelude - introducing the entire liturgy in the same way I introduce each hymn: announcing the spirit of the liturgy in a very custom-fit and unique way. This can follow literature. The custom here seems to be to build to a full organ everytime - I don't imagine that would be my practice, although over here it's exciting!
The liturgy . . . well . . . first of all - way too much chattering at us. For those of us without a clue what was being said, I want to yell: shut up! Let the liturgy do the speaking. They also didn't follow the order of the mass too carefully, which made it hard for me to jump in - and there were no service folders. They handed out hymnals, but we only sang from them once - and then only the refrain. I had to try to look over someone's shoulder to see where it was. The choir was , well . . . from the heart. (!!!) The practice of a person singing into a mic when it's our time to sing also is irritating. All we sang was refrains - bottom line is I got the feeling they felt we were all idiots there. And, service folders are important!
I did understand the lesson, however: the woman at the well . Very interesting to hear in another language. The sermon lost me again, but that's OK.
Throughout the service and recital in addition to improvisations, she played music by Bedard (a Canadian!), Mendelssohn, Ropartz, d'Indy and the last recital piece was another improvisation. Loved it all, but it didn't sent chills down my spine, or draw me in like Guillou does at St Eustache, my next stop of the day.
St. Eustache
After figuring out how to do the laundry mat thing (including unintentionally dumping a bunch of laundry soap all over the floor, and no broom to pick it up.....), I went to St. Eustache for their evening recital at 5:30, followed by the Mass led by the Grand Orgue.
Here, as well, the associate organist was on deck for the day: Francesco Filidei. For the recital he played works by Jacques Lenot (never heard of him), and Yves Chauris (also unknown), and Bach's Sonate in trio of the Musical Offering, transcribed by Jean Guillou. The first two were bleeps and blobs contemporary pieces. Very odd, but interesting. The Bach was also interesting - in Guillou's interpretation of Bach on the organ - full of varying colors.
This liturgy is much easier to enter into. They follow the order, and provide service folders with music we need to sing. The Kyrie was "Orbis Factor", and Sanctus ELW Setting 4 - it's fun to sing in Latin - as a foreigner one can see how Latin really is a middle ground for all of us.
His improvisations during the liturgy were wonderfully wild and interesting! He is definately under the influence of his superior, Jean Guillou - although I don't sense as much control in the wildness as Guillou.
A great day in Paris, again, and the weather was stunning.
St. Suplice
I attended the morning Eucharist at St. Sulpice. This is the church where Charles Marie Widor and Marcel Dupre served as organists. The practice at St. Sulpice is to begin with a 15 minute organ prelude before the mass, then the mass, then a half-hour organ recital. The associate organist was on deck today, Sophie-Veronique Chaushefir-Choplin. (all of that really is her name, although I had better check that spelling). The prelude was a 15 minute improvisation which was very interesting - some ideas for me to adopt. I really like the idea of improvisation as the last part of the prelude - introducing the entire liturgy in the same way I introduce each hymn: announcing the spirit of the liturgy in a very custom-fit and unique way. This can follow literature. The custom here seems to be to build to a full organ everytime - I don't imagine that would be my practice, although over here it's exciting!
The liturgy . . . well . . . first of all - way too much chattering at us. For those of us without a clue what was being said, I want to yell: shut up! Let the liturgy do the speaking. They also didn't follow the order of the mass too carefully, which made it hard for me to jump in - and there were no service folders. They handed out hymnals, but we only sang from them once - and then only the refrain. I had to try to look over someone's shoulder to see where it was. The choir was , well . . . from the heart. (!!!) The practice of a person singing into a mic when it's our time to sing also is irritating. All we sang was refrains - bottom line is I got the feeling they felt we were all idiots there. And, service folders are important!
I did understand the lesson, however: the woman at the well . Very interesting to hear in another language. The sermon lost me again, but that's OK.
Throughout the service and recital in addition to improvisations, she played music by Bedard (a Canadian!), Mendelssohn, Ropartz, d'Indy and the last recital piece was another improvisation. Loved it all, but it didn't sent chills down my spine, or draw me in like Guillou does at St Eustache, my next stop of the day.
St. Eustache
After figuring out how to do the laundry mat thing (including unintentionally dumping a bunch of laundry soap all over the floor, and no broom to pick it up.....), I went to St. Eustache for their evening recital at 5:30, followed by the Mass led by the Grand Orgue.
Here, as well, the associate organist was on deck for the day: Francesco Filidei. For the recital he played works by Jacques Lenot (never heard of him), and Yves Chauris (also unknown), and Bach's Sonate in trio of the Musical Offering, transcribed by Jean Guillou. The first two were bleeps and blobs contemporary pieces. Very odd, but interesting. The Bach was also interesting - in Guillou's interpretation of Bach on the organ - full of varying colors.
This liturgy is much easier to enter into. They follow the order, and provide service folders with music we need to sing. The Kyrie was "Orbis Factor", and Sanctus ELW Setting 4 - it's fun to sing in Latin - as a foreigner one can see how Latin really is a middle ground for all of us.
His improvisations during the liturgy were wonderfully wild and interesting! He is definately under the influence of his superior, Jean Guillou - although I don't sense as much control in the wildness as Guillou.
A great day in Paris, again, and the weather was stunning.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Chateauneuf du Pape
My last evening in southern France was spent in Chateauneuf du Pape. It's really a cliché town for French wine, but you know what? It really is good!
My experiences with wine tasting in France so far hadn't exactly been the best - but this is more of a touristy kind of wine place so I was hoping it would be different. It was and it wasn't. I started with a place Susan and I had been to in the past - Mont Radon. Again I was the only person there, and I had to ask if I was in the right place. I was, and I indeed had a taste or two. I bought a bottle of 2001 Chateauneuf du Pape from them to have in the hotel, and left. This time I decided not to be shy and stopped at several others - asking questions - and was not refused. Here's an important point: 2004 and older is the vintage for this, and most of the good reds from France (except Beaujolais).
Wine aside, I had often thought it would be cool to get a room in this tiny village and taste away without worrying about driving- I got a room there anyway not so much the tasting part. this village too is at the top of a mountain ( so to speak) with roads barely wide enough for my !
My hotel turned out to be about one mile outside of town: completely in the country! Nothing but vineyards and the shadows of abandoned castles. It was stunning! The restaurant at this place was too pricey (from whence cometh their clientele?!!) so I went back into the village for a wonderful meal - the only person in the whole place.
On the way back was the true gift of this place: a full moon. This Pope's village was at the top of a hill, from which you can see the Pope's palace in Avignon from the time of the split Papacy. The view is breathtaking. I drove up there to see the moon, and also saw perfecetly in every direction - mountains, lights from other villages, well lit ruins of other historic remains - - unbelievable. I drove to the hotel through the vineyards on a road that sometimes was barely wide enough for my car.
At the room, I had some of the wine I felt i needed to buy to be polite, and just stared out my window to this beautiful and entirely quiet, fully dark beauty.
Magic!
My experiences with wine tasting in France so far hadn't exactly been the best - but this is more of a touristy kind of wine place so I was hoping it would be different. It was and it wasn't. I started with a place Susan and I had been to in the past - Mont Radon. Again I was the only person there, and I had to ask if I was in the right place. I was, and I indeed had a taste or two. I bought a bottle of 2001 Chateauneuf du Pape from them to have in the hotel, and left. This time I decided not to be shy and stopped at several others - asking questions - and was not refused. Here's an important point: 2004 and older is the vintage for this, and most of the good reds from France (except Beaujolais).
Wine aside, I had often thought it would be cool to get a room in this tiny village and taste away without worrying about driving- I got a room there anyway not so much the tasting part. this village too is at the top of a mountain ( so to speak) with roads barely wide enough for my !
My hotel turned out to be about one mile outside of town: completely in the country! Nothing but vineyards and the shadows of abandoned castles. It was stunning! The restaurant at this place was too pricey (from whence cometh their clientele?!!) so I went back into the village for a wonderful meal - the only person in the whole place.
On the way back was the true gift of this place: a full moon. This Pope's village was at the top of a hill, from which you can see the Pope's palace in Avignon from the time of the split Papacy. The view is breathtaking. I drove up there to see the moon, and also saw perfecetly in every direction - mountains, lights from other villages, well lit ruins of other historic remains - - unbelievable. I drove to the hotel through the vineyards on a road that sometimes was barely wide enough for my car.
At the room, I had some of the wine I felt i needed to buy to be polite, and just stared out my window to this beautiful and entirely quiet, fully dark beauty.
Magic!
Aix en Provence
After Bordeaux, on Thursday I drove 5 hours on the Autoroute (130 Killomoters an hour!!) to Aix-en-Provence - just north of Marsaille. Over the hill - and WHAM - Mt Saint Victiore staring me in the face in welcome. Cezanne lived here, and painted that mountain often.
What is it about this country, France, that continues to draw me to it and continues to inspire me? My roots are Norway/Poland, New York/South Dakota to Midwest USA. No parlez-ing of Francais in that past. (Although it could go: Adam/Eve - African Chipanzies - French Cavemen - Scandanavia/Eastern Europe - USA!!! Viola!
Actually, the draw to Aix is this: In 1971 my parents did a very courageous thing - taking a half year sabbatical from teaching ( at half salary) in 1971, took a leap of faith in packing the family up - five children - to go to live in France for 7 months without a place to stay lined up, schools for us kids, and did I mention: half salary? A huge on the edge kind of venture. For most of us kids it was a wonderful experience - especially for me at the very impressionable age of 14. Aix-en-Provence is where we lived. I've been back several times but I keep wanting to re-touch this city and re-ignite those memories.
It really was here that "David Cherwien the organist" began. My father hooked me up with a fantastic teacher - who took a special interest in me - including moving to two lessons per week. Dad took me to the lessons until I could get more comfortable with the language, and I practiced hours a day in this tiny (by their standards) chapel in the middle of a block, on what I thought was a tiny organ. I later learned that this organ was very likely one of the famous builder of the 19th c Caivaille Coll. He built all the organs that are famous in Paris. The house, the school, this chapel, the "Cours Mirabau" (Aix's Champs Elyzees), the fountains of Aix - all are romantically set into my memory. When I see them, I'm reminded of the great commencement that the time we lived there was for me - one like no other to follow.
I walked and walked and walked. I found our the small house mom and dad found to rent - still there, although added on to and built around. I found the place where my brother Paul and I went to practice in a marching band we joined while there, I found the French school we attended.
I remember when starting out wondering how long it would take before I would have a clue what was going on. I wanted to scream: "I'm not stupid - I just speak a different language!" I also remember one day in "technologie" class the professor looking at me and saying "David, I think you're understanding me now aren't you?" "Of course!" I said not immediately realizing the significance of that. I had indeed learned to speak and understand French in 4 or 5 months. All by ear.
I did find the chapel where I practiced and had my lessons. It was locked up and very quiet. I rang the bell, but no one answered. Oh well. I had dinner at the resteraunt my parents would take us to when they wanted to splurge - "La Rotonde." - in the center of town where the biggest and most beautiful fountain is. We used to love to watch the almost tuxedo-dressed waiters zip through the room with plates of artistically placed food all the way up their arms without disturbing any of it. I remembered the very traditional white table-cloths and silver. It' been remodeled and is now very modern. My meal there was an emotional dinner nevertheless (although expensive!) I told the waitress my story, and she said "a lot has changed - except the chandeleer - that is from the old place!" Couldn't say I remembered it.
I'll probably return again. I love this place - even if the city is growing in an out-of-control way. The center of the historic town is the same, and Aix is an important part of my personal roots.
What is it about this country, France, that continues to draw me to it and continues to inspire me? My roots are Norway/Poland, New York/South Dakota to Midwest USA. No parlez-ing of Francais in that past. (Although it could go: Adam/Eve - African Chipanzies - French Cavemen - Scandanavia/Eastern Europe - USA!!! Viola!
Actually, the draw to Aix is this: In 1971 my parents did a very courageous thing - taking a half year sabbatical from teaching ( at half salary) in 1971, took a leap of faith in packing the family up - five children - to go to live in France for 7 months without a place to stay lined up, schools for us kids, and did I mention: half salary? A huge on the edge kind of venture. For most of us kids it was a wonderful experience - especially for me at the very impressionable age of 14. Aix-en-Provence is where we lived. I've been back several times but I keep wanting to re-touch this city and re-ignite those memories.
It really was here that "David Cherwien the organist" began. My father hooked me up with a fantastic teacher - who took a special interest in me - including moving to two lessons per week. Dad took me to the lessons until I could get more comfortable with the language, and I practiced hours a day in this tiny (by their standards) chapel in the middle of a block, on what I thought was a tiny organ. I later learned that this organ was very likely one of the famous builder of the 19th c Caivaille Coll. He built all the organs that are famous in Paris. The house, the school, this chapel, the "Cours Mirabau" (Aix's Champs Elyzees), the fountains of Aix - all are romantically set into my memory. When I see them, I'm reminded of the great commencement that the time we lived there was for me - one like no other to follow.
I walked and walked and walked. I found our the small house mom and dad found to rent - still there, although added on to and built around. I found the place where my brother Paul and I went to practice in a marching band we joined while there, I found the French school we attended.
I remember when starting out wondering how long it would take before I would have a clue what was going on. I wanted to scream: "I'm not stupid - I just speak a different language!" I also remember one day in "technologie" class the professor looking at me and saying "David, I think you're understanding me now aren't you?" "Of course!" I said not immediately realizing the significance of that. I had indeed learned to speak and understand French in 4 or 5 months. All by ear.
I did find the chapel where I practiced and had my lessons. It was locked up and very quiet. I rang the bell, but no one answered. Oh well. I had dinner at the resteraunt my parents would take us to when they wanted to splurge - "La Rotonde." - in the center of town where the biggest and most beautiful fountain is. We used to love to watch the almost tuxedo-dressed waiters zip through the room with plates of artistically placed food all the way up their arms without disturbing any of it. I remembered the very traditional white table-cloths and silver. It' been remodeled and is now very modern. My meal there was an emotional dinner nevertheless (although expensive!) I told the waitress my story, and she said "a lot has changed - except the chandeleer - that is from the old place!" Couldn't say I remembered it.
I'll probably return again. I love this place - even if the city is growing in an out-of-control way. The center of the historic town is the same, and Aix is an important part of my personal roots.
St Emillion, Perigord Valley
ST EMILLION
Each evening while in Bordeaux, I jaunted over to St. Emillion, about a half hour west of where I was staying. What a charming little village - on the top of a hill with ruins at the center, streets so narrow people have to duck into doorways to let the cars by. Tiny shops, "caves" offering wine tasting. I did venture into one, and was invited to self-tour through the caves where wine was being stored to age. Deep into the mountain - it was clear why this city was so famous for wine. Perfect storage!
The town was so charming, I returned all three nights I was in the Bordeaux area. Since if was off season, however, it was practically a ghost town with very little open. Nevertheless I enjoyed walking its streets, finding the view of the valley spots, and imagning the town thriving in midieval times. At the center was the ruin of what used to be a cathedral-type church - only the tower is left but the view from this place is amazing.
The wines from this tiny area rival that of Chateauneuf du Pape - especially the "Grand cru" of St Emillion. It's the top of the line, to be sure, and the envy of vintners! Whenever I see wines with the label "St Emillion - Grand Cru" I will think of thie village and enjoy the wine even more.
PERIGORD VALLEY - PREHISTORIC HUMANS
Wednesday I drove an hour and a half to the Perigord Valley, where a lot of evidence and artifacts of prehistoric human beings have been found. It is even thought that these are the first Europeans! ROOTS!
It's easy to see why this area would be a logical place to support life - rich river valley feeding life forms of many kinds - plant and animal with many, many caves which could provide shelter for humans. And indeed, thousands of artifacts such as spears, tools, fire pits and skeletal remains have been found and are on display at a museum in Les Eyzies. An amazing sight were all of these to see in this museum. I don't know why we think that just because this was so long ago, humans were not intelligent beings, or artistic. Not so.
Yet within the caves on the walls AND CEILINGS many paintings from this time following the ice age have been discovered. Two caves are open to the public: Ramasciou (sp?) and Lascau. Lascau is where the paintings of bulls, horses, deer, etc. were discovered in the 40's and were open to the public until it was discovered that this was destroying them (human emissions...). An exact replica was created for tours, called Lascau II - and I entered this and it was still awe inspiring.
I had thought these were doodlings of a bored cave dweller, but discovered otherwise. This was high art; artistic expression that was careful and highly refined craft. Historians think these might have been used for rituals in these cave spaces - but who knows? Here are examples of the first artistic works known. What were (are) they saying? What might the symbalism be? After all these thousands upon thousands of years, vibrant color, expressive muscle, thrust, amazing.
The beauty of the valley as I drove back, while very different from the miles and miles of vineyards was striking in many ways. As the road twisted and turned along the banks - these huge amazing sights would suddenly appear: cities built under rock, into rock; through rock. Huge Castles suddenly appeared along the banks - striking in their massiveness and elaborate towers - still standing in full glory as a hotel, or private residence. Can you imagine cleaning those places?!!
A very worthwhile venture.
Each evening while in Bordeaux, I jaunted over to St. Emillion, about a half hour west of where I was staying. What a charming little village - on the top of a hill with ruins at the center, streets so narrow people have to duck into doorways to let the cars by. Tiny shops, "caves" offering wine tasting. I did venture into one, and was invited to self-tour through the caves where wine was being stored to age. Deep into the mountain - it was clear why this city was so famous for wine. Perfect storage!
The town was so charming, I returned all three nights I was in the Bordeaux area. Since if was off season, however, it was practically a ghost town with very little open. Nevertheless I enjoyed walking its streets, finding the view of the valley spots, and imagning the town thriving in midieval times. At the center was the ruin of what used to be a cathedral-type church - only the tower is left but the view from this place is amazing.
The wines from this tiny area rival that of Chateauneuf du Pape - especially the "Grand cru" of St Emillion. It's the top of the line, to be sure, and the envy of vintners! Whenever I see wines with the label "St Emillion - Grand Cru" I will think of thie village and enjoy the wine even more.
PERIGORD VALLEY - PREHISTORIC HUMANS
Wednesday I drove an hour and a half to the Perigord Valley, where a lot of evidence and artifacts of prehistoric human beings have been found. It is even thought that these are the first Europeans! ROOTS!
It's easy to see why this area would be a logical place to support life - rich river valley feeding life forms of many kinds - plant and animal with many, many caves which could provide shelter for humans. And indeed, thousands of artifacts such as spears, tools, fire pits and skeletal remains have been found and are on display at a museum in Les Eyzies. An amazing sight were all of these to see in this museum. I don't know why we think that just because this was so long ago, humans were not intelligent beings, or artistic. Not so.
Yet within the caves on the walls AND CEILINGS many paintings from this time following the ice age have been discovered. Two caves are open to the public: Ramasciou (sp?) and Lascau. Lascau is where the paintings of bulls, horses, deer, etc. were discovered in the 40's and were open to the public until it was discovered that this was destroying them (human emissions...). An exact replica was created for tours, called Lascau II - and I entered this and it was still awe inspiring.
I had thought these were doodlings of a bored cave dweller, but discovered otherwise. This was high art; artistic expression that was careful and highly refined craft. Historians think these might have been used for rituals in these cave spaces - but who knows? Here are examples of the first artistic works known. What were (are) they saying? What might the symbalism be? After all these thousands upon thousands of years, vibrant color, expressive muscle, thrust, amazing.
The beauty of the valley as I drove back, while very different from the miles and miles of vineyards was striking in many ways. As the road twisted and turned along the banks - these huge amazing sights would suddenly appear: cities built under rock, into rock; through rock. Huge Castles suddenly appeared along the banks - striking in their massiveness and elaborate towers - still standing in full glory as a hotel, or private residence. Can you imagine cleaning those places?!!
A very worthwhile venture.
Bordeaux - more artistry
One would think that between Sundays a church musician might just be tourist, without further artistic experiences from which to draw wisdom. However, a relatively short 2 hour ride in the TGV, France's high speed trains took me to Bordeaux - wines-ville on earth. I rented what i expected to be a mini-subcompact car (and they can really get small here) but it turned out to be a diesel fuel delivery-van kind of car. I could almost stand up in it. Something between an SUV and station wagon. Argh. At least it was a Renault (French), and I didn't look quite as touristy.
There's magic here that combines nature with human nature and artistry. The foundational soil combined with the temperate climate, gentle winds (preventing rot) are perfect for vineyards. It looks just like California (or does CA look like this?!). The combination of this foundational plant rooted in history, produces grapes in abundance, turned into juice becoming one with the other grapes, are fermented, becoming ALIVE, and then with the ingenuity and artistry of the vintner the perfect and unique blend creates a substance that compliments and is a vital pat f a meal, brings pleasure, and some have said: truth. (in vino veritas) Each region produces its general styles that have become tradition, but the uniqueness of individual vintners has to do with the magic of their particular plot (the way the vines produce with the terroire) and the blend. Wait - are talking about wine or a choir?!
It's beautiful country there. Miles and miles of vineyards. Midieval towers and chateaus scattered here and there, ignored like abandoned farm houses in rural Mnnesota. But this place has been all about this for centuries, perhaps beyond. Truly, I felt as if I was standing as modern witness that we are specs in time compared to the grand picture.
I stayed near a small village just north of Bordeaux: St. Andre du Cubsac/St Gervais in an absolutely lovely B and B IN THE COUNTY, out f the main stream of cliche wine makers. Over looking the river valley, ruins, chateaus, and miles and miles of vineyards. Astonishing and peaceful. (And only 40 Euros a night - about 60 bucks!). Mme May (the owner) was an absolutely lovely person, and I couldn't get over the beauty of this place.
About a mile down the road was Chateaux Lagatte, run by the Affatato family. This chateaux dates back to 1640, and is now run by Michael Affatato - who grew up in: BROOKLYN! I had an appointment to meet with him my second day there. He was fantastic. I heard the whole story of the chateau, his life, and the process of wines. The top of his chateau had a small balcony on the roof, and we went up there and he pointed out their plots - one of which dated back to the 1600's. He then took me all though the plant, we tasted from the barrels, then went in their house, he cleared the table, cut up some sausage and cheese and we tasted all five of the wines they make. A very kind and generous person who took me in and educated me. This is not about profit - it's about artistry, its all about connection to something much bigger. (Wait are we talking about choir and/or congregations again?)
It's a good thing because the first day I thought what I would do was go from vintner to vintner and taste - like we had done in California not too long ago. There were chateaus (merely a name for "place" they're not all castles) about every 50 feet with signs beconing people to come taste and buy. I finally pulled into one which had a car or two in the lot. Carefully went to the door, nervously opened it and walked in. Geez. I was in someone's kitchen, and office - messy desk and all. A surprised older women came out wearing an apron - I nervously asked: "Degustation?" (tasting?). She answered "Oui", went over to the messy desk, cleared a spot and put a glass on it, pulled out an unopened bottle, corked it and poured a bit. I politely tasted trying to look like I knew what I was doing. "Nice" I said (not being entirely truthful). She showed me a list - about 6 Euros a bottle (about $8). I asked if there were others, and she pulled out another bottle - also unopened. I said "No, not if it's not open - please". She replied "For you, Monsieur, of course." and POP. I tasted that, thanked her, and got out of there. I should have bought one just to be polite. I didn't do anymore of that kind of visit. It was off season and everyone would have to cork a new bottle for me, and I really couldn't buy.
But the food, the wines I had with that food, and Michael Affatato all educated me to the wonderful things there. In two days I drove all over the Bourg area, Blaye, and on the other side of the river, the Medoc region with different soil and kind of wine. I tasted with meals, and bought a bottle from these regions to taste in my room later. The Medos wines are meatier, more tannins, and the good steak wines. To the south, souterns and sweet wines. The Bourg/Blye region, where I stayed, more fruit forward and gentle. They are my favorite, although next time I have a steak, I'm going to ask about their Medoc selections...
Artistry; history; connection. MMMMMMMMM.
There's magic here that combines nature with human nature and artistry. The foundational soil combined with the temperate climate, gentle winds (preventing rot) are perfect for vineyards. It looks just like California (or does CA look like this?!). The combination of this foundational plant rooted in history, produces grapes in abundance, turned into juice becoming one with the other grapes, are fermented, becoming ALIVE, and then with the ingenuity and artistry of the vintner the perfect and unique blend creates a substance that compliments and is a vital pat f a meal, brings pleasure, and some have said: truth. (in vino veritas) Each region produces its general styles that have become tradition, but the uniqueness of individual vintners has to do with the magic of their particular plot (the way the vines produce with the terroire) and the blend. Wait - are talking about wine or a choir?!
It's beautiful country there. Miles and miles of vineyards. Midieval towers and chateaus scattered here and there, ignored like abandoned farm houses in rural Mnnesota. But this place has been all about this for centuries, perhaps beyond. Truly, I felt as if I was standing as modern witness that we are specs in time compared to the grand picture.
I stayed near a small village just north of Bordeaux: St. Andre du Cubsac/St Gervais in an absolutely lovely B and B IN THE COUNTY, out f the main stream of cliche wine makers. Over looking the river valley, ruins, chateaus, and miles and miles of vineyards. Astonishing and peaceful. (And only 40 Euros a night - about 60 bucks!). Mme May (the owner) was an absolutely lovely person, and I couldn't get over the beauty of this place.
About a mile down the road was Chateaux Lagatte, run by the Affatato family. This chateaux dates back to 1640, and is now run by Michael Affatato - who grew up in: BROOKLYN! I had an appointment to meet with him my second day there. He was fantastic. I heard the whole story of the chateau, his life, and the process of wines. The top of his chateau had a small balcony on the roof, and we went up there and he pointed out their plots - one of which dated back to the 1600's. He then took me all though the plant, we tasted from the barrels, then went in their house, he cleared the table, cut up some sausage and cheese and we tasted all five of the wines they make. A very kind and generous person who took me in and educated me. This is not about profit - it's about artistry, its all about connection to something much bigger. (Wait are we talking about choir and/or congregations again?)
It's a good thing because the first day I thought what I would do was go from vintner to vintner and taste - like we had done in California not too long ago. There were chateaus (merely a name for "place" they're not all castles) about every 50 feet with signs beconing people to come taste and buy. I finally pulled into one which had a car or two in the lot. Carefully went to the door, nervously opened it and walked in. Geez. I was in someone's kitchen, and office - messy desk and all. A surprised older women came out wearing an apron - I nervously asked: "Degustation?" (tasting?). She answered "Oui", went over to the messy desk, cleared a spot and put a glass on it, pulled out an unopened bottle, corked it and poured a bit. I politely tasted trying to look like I knew what I was doing. "Nice" I said (not being entirely truthful). She showed me a list - about 6 Euros a bottle (about $8). I asked if there were others, and she pulled out another bottle - also unopened. I said "No, not if it's not open - please". She replied "For you, Monsieur, of course." and POP. I tasted that, thanked her, and got out of there. I should have bought one just to be polite. I didn't do anymore of that kind of visit. It was off season and everyone would have to cork a new bottle for me, and I really couldn't buy.
But the food, the wines I had with that food, and Michael Affatato all educated me to the wonderful things there. In two days I drove all over the Bourg area, Blaye, and on the other side of the river, the Medoc region with different soil and kind of wine. I tasted with meals, and bought a bottle from these regions to taste in my room later. The Medos wines are meatier, more tannins, and the good steak wines. To the south, souterns and sweet wines. The Bourg/Blye region, where I stayed, more fruit forward and gentle. They are my favorite, although next time I have a steak, I'm going to ask about their Medoc selections...
Artistry; history; connection. MMMMMMMMM.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
First weekend in Paris
I attended one choral concert, and three liturgies on Saturday and Sunday, Feb 16, 17.
Serendipity prevails again: no websites yielded any concerts. Yet, as my pracitce, the day of arrival I purchase my subway pass, and go to each of the main churches to look for posters: Notre Dame (organist Pierre Liguaey sp), St. Eustache (Jean Gilliou), Trinite )Naji Hakim), and St Sulpice (Daniel Roth). While not on the web site, I found a [poster for a concert at St. Eustache on Friday night: Requiem, by Karl Jenkins, perormed by the Dutch Chamber Choir. Perfect! $30, 8:30, and at 8:25 the place was still practically empty. Gads. In the last minutes however, the "crowd" tripled - to about 90 people in an enomous place. Mostly people tavelling with the choir. Anyway, it was an interesting concert, and literature I will look into further as i heard the talented voices of NLC doing it in a very different way. The compositional stlyle was kind of a mix between Faure, Andrew Loyd Weber, Philip Glass, and the guy who did the musical score for the movie "Let Choristes".
Saturday, again serendipity: I was relatively near Notre Dame, when the bells starting going nuts. That usually means a liturgy, so I stood in the huge line (always the case there) to get in the one small door, and experienced a beautful and very simple Evening Prayer service, in spite of the huge crowd of people constantly moving through the edges of the room in a huge line of people. Simple Psalm tones, simple organ improvisations between each, beautifully done. It was as if the chaos of the world had moved INTO the sanctuary - probably a couple thousand people and their sounds at any time moving counter-clockwise though the outer aisles of the space, and nevertheless, corporate prayer can occur anyway. I was grateful.
Sunday morning I attended St. Eustache for the 11:00 am Eucharist, hoping to hear the enormously inspiring work of Jean Gilliou at the organ. Normally, the services is preceeded by a piece of literature (such as Bach), then a 10 minute improvisation which flows into a procession. This kind of sequence happened, but Jean Gillou was not the organist, Francesco Fideli was. Never heard of him. He was wonderful, but did not step out to the edge the way that Jean Gilliou does. The "form" was followed, however, a Bach prelude, followed by an improvision. This liturgy, the second week of Lent, was subdued, but nevertheless, beautiful. A Kyrie setting of Andre Campra was sung by the choir (as was Sanctus and Agnus Dei). I love the juxtaposition of these improvisations on the orgran leading into the procession, at which point the choir then sings an historic setting of a Mass. Something to do more of at home. The liturgy was OK but I have to say: I miss Mount Olive. Almost all of the organ music was Bach. Lutherans haven taken over Parisian Catholicisim? Say it ain't so! Anyway, I feared a French era may have passed, as Jean Gilliou was known for almost never being away on Sundays. (Sorry, Mount O - difference there already....) I feared his well being.
There was to be an afternoon concert at Notre Dame - posters all over the space said so, and that Pierre Leguay was to play. At 4:30, the line to get in was HUGE, and the place filled up. "How encouraging" I thought. Wrong. If I had looked more thoroughly, I would have seen another set of posters advertising a special Lenten lecture series at 4:30 instead of the organ recital. Ick. I left.
Back to St. Eustache where is usually an organ recital at 5:30 before the "organ Eucharist" at 6. The morning service folder said that Francesco Fideli was also playing this, even though posters all over the church, AND THE WEBSITE had stated that Jean Gillou was playing. I heard an announcement in the morning made but only understanding the words "Monsieur Gilliou" and "Excuse" so I assumed he was sick that day or something like that and wasn't there.
But he was! The 6:00 pm Eucharist is preceeded by a half hour recital. All Bach. He does fascinating things to Bach - changing sounds almost every phrase, and playing with fascinating articulation. Interesting, but odd. I like it. There was no huge improvisation for the procession, but after the Psalm, Sermon, during Offering, and Distribution he played improvisaitons. All Phenominal. Then he did another at the postlude and I thought was would shake with excitement! I don't know how he does all that he does at the keyboard - movement that is dizzying, yet I never sense he does not have control of what's going on.
A great day. I capped it off with a fabulous dinner at Pastor Heisley's and my favorite Paris Eatery: Le Petit Prince. Fabulous food. Interesting situation: very close to my left, a French couple. Intertwined in the corner table, and so close to each other I prayed they each had OK breath. The only sounds I could hear was muffled kissing. (!!) To my right, a table of German people. A very intellectual conversation, full of "what I think" commentary. Hearing the German, and French made me feel a bit confused, but I could understand both. Is there a middle ground with these cultures?! Yes: Mount Olive. Me?
I'm reminded, though, why I think Pastor Heisly and I are so enamored with the French. They LIVE the Gospel: "Here, have some bread, and have some wine. And here is the main thing: LOVE one another." Can it be more simple? Life in Christ, and it's fun.
Serendipity prevails again: no websites yielded any concerts. Yet, as my pracitce, the day of arrival I purchase my subway pass, and go to each of the main churches to look for posters: Notre Dame (organist Pierre Liguaey sp), St. Eustache (Jean Gilliou), Trinite )Naji Hakim), and St Sulpice (Daniel Roth). While not on the web site, I found a [poster for a concert at St. Eustache on Friday night: Requiem, by Karl Jenkins, perormed by the Dutch Chamber Choir. Perfect! $30, 8:30, and at 8:25 the place was still practically empty. Gads. In the last minutes however, the "crowd" tripled - to about 90 people in an enomous place. Mostly people tavelling with the choir. Anyway, it was an interesting concert, and literature I will look into further as i heard the talented voices of NLC doing it in a very different way. The compositional stlyle was kind of a mix between Faure, Andrew Loyd Weber, Philip Glass, and the guy who did the musical score for the movie "Let Choristes".
Saturday, again serendipity: I was relatively near Notre Dame, when the bells starting going nuts. That usually means a liturgy, so I stood in the huge line (always the case there) to get in the one small door, and experienced a beautful and very simple Evening Prayer service, in spite of the huge crowd of people constantly moving through the edges of the room in a huge line of people. Simple Psalm tones, simple organ improvisations between each, beautifully done. It was as if the chaos of the world had moved INTO the sanctuary - probably a couple thousand people and their sounds at any time moving counter-clockwise though the outer aisles of the space, and nevertheless, corporate prayer can occur anyway. I was grateful.
Sunday morning I attended St. Eustache for the 11:00 am Eucharist, hoping to hear the enormously inspiring work of Jean Gilliou at the organ. Normally, the services is preceeded by a piece of literature (such as Bach), then a 10 minute improvisation which flows into a procession. This kind of sequence happened, but Jean Gillou was not the organist, Francesco Fideli was. Never heard of him. He was wonderful, but did not step out to the edge the way that Jean Gilliou does. The "form" was followed, however, a Bach prelude, followed by an improvision. This liturgy, the second week of Lent, was subdued, but nevertheless, beautiful. A Kyrie setting of Andre Campra was sung by the choir (as was Sanctus and Agnus Dei). I love the juxtaposition of these improvisations on the orgran leading into the procession, at which point the choir then sings an historic setting of a Mass. Something to do more of at home. The liturgy was OK but I have to say: I miss Mount Olive. Almost all of the organ music was Bach. Lutherans haven taken over Parisian Catholicisim? Say it ain't so! Anyway, I feared a French era may have passed, as Jean Gilliou was known for almost never being away on Sundays. (Sorry, Mount O - difference there already....) I feared his well being.
There was to be an afternoon concert at Notre Dame - posters all over the space said so, and that Pierre Leguay was to play. At 4:30, the line to get in was HUGE, and the place filled up. "How encouraging" I thought. Wrong. If I had looked more thoroughly, I would have seen another set of posters advertising a special Lenten lecture series at 4:30 instead of the organ recital. Ick. I left.
Back to St. Eustache where is usually an organ recital at 5:30 before the "organ Eucharist" at 6. The morning service folder said that Francesco Fideli was also playing this, even though posters all over the church, AND THE WEBSITE had stated that Jean Gillou was playing. I heard an announcement in the morning made but only understanding the words "Monsieur Gilliou" and "Excuse" so I assumed he was sick that day or something like that and wasn't there.
But he was! The 6:00 pm Eucharist is preceeded by a half hour recital. All Bach. He does fascinating things to Bach - changing sounds almost every phrase, and playing with fascinating articulation. Interesting, but odd. I like it. There was no huge improvisation for the procession, but after the Psalm, Sermon, during Offering, and Distribution he played improvisaitons. All Phenominal. Then he did another at the postlude and I thought was would shake with excitement! I don't know how he does all that he does at the keyboard - movement that is dizzying, yet I never sense he does not have control of what's going on.
A great day. I capped it off with a fabulous dinner at Pastor Heisley's and my favorite Paris Eatery: Le Petit Prince. Fabulous food. Interesting situation: very close to my left, a French couple. Intertwined in the corner table, and so close to each other I prayed they each had OK breath. The only sounds I could hear was muffled kissing. (!!) To my right, a table of German people. A very intellectual conversation, full of "what I think" commentary. Hearing the German, and French made me feel a bit confused, but I could understand both. Is there a middle ground with these cultures?! Yes: Mount Olive. Me?
I'm reminded, though, why I think Pastor Heisly and I are so enamored with the French. They LIVE the Gospel: "Here, have some bread, and have some wine. And here is the main thing: LOVE one another." Can it be more simple? Life in Christ, and it's fun.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Paris - arrivè!
Tired and cold, but today, the "day after" the flight, the sun is shining.
I spent the first day going around to the churches to see what is offered and when. Tomorrow, Sunday, offers much. I will attend morning services at St Eusthache, where Jean Gilliou, my favorite improviser holds forth. There is an organ recital at Notre Dame at 4:30, then back to St. Eustache by 5:30 for another organ recital and "Messe Grand Orgue" (that means it is led by the organ - not that the organ is worshipped!)
I have my subway pass, had the most perfect cup of coffee for breakfast this morning along with a small baguette, have used my credit cards so now I can relax knowing that they work . . . I'm set! More soon.
I spent the first day going around to the churches to see what is offered and when. Tomorrow, Sunday, offers much. I will attend morning services at St Eusthache, where Jean Gilliou, my favorite improviser holds forth. There is an organ recital at Notre Dame at 4:30, then back to St. Eustache by 5:30 for another organ recital and "Messe Grand Orgue" (that means it is led by the organ - not that the organ is worshipped!)
I have my subway pass, had the most perfect cup of coffee for breakfast this morning along with a small baguette, have used my credit cards so now I can relax knowing that they work . . . I'm set! More soon.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Lent 1 - San Francisco
St. Mark's Lutheran Church, Grace Cathedral (Anglican), San Francisco
ST MARK's LUTHERAN CHURCH
We attended the Choral Eucharist at St. Marks' Lutheran Church, a parish very similar to Mount Olive: in town, musical/liturgical, and open. It's a 100+ year-old building which had recently been refurbished after the earthquake. It's a beautiful space - wrapping around on the sides to give the feeling of gathering "around" word and table. The rear balcony also wrapped around about a third of the way - which gave more of a sense of the choir being "with the people" in their leadership since they'd be kind of next to us instead of behind us, yet for their anthem they would move the center, rear. One reading desk, central altar, font in the back. Everything very bright, and very beautiful.
The ligurgy was a wonderful experience, many things learned as a worshipper. They began the service with the Litany, processing around the nave as we sang. (making the same musical mistakes everyone does - thought we fixed those with ELW!). The people were engaged, and we had company in song - which does the most to bring others into the song. I still believe that to be the case with everything in liturgy: the people's action speaks the meaningfulness and depth of their faith more than any words. "Words of welcome" really don't. Action and song does. There were about 100 people in attendance, including a former tenor from the National Lutheran Choir! Quite diverse, obviously committed.
We sang setting five from ELW for the ordinary, and several hymns. The Psalmody used a new setting from a resource Augsburg recently published. The congregation sang only the antiphon, the verses were sung by the choir. (I still prefer to have the people sing these ancient and important songs of the church themselves). The choir thoughtfully did interesting things with the verses, however, alternating between two soloists, a quartet, and the whole choir singing anglican chant style. The cantor chose who among those options relative to the text. Something to take home!
The choir sang William Walton's "A Litany" with the text "Drop, drop slow tears" - a beautiful text very appropriate. A very clean sound - with a choir about the same size as Mount Olive. Clearly, however, their role was firstly liturgical and they did that very well.
The Communion had a huge paragraph about "what and who" was done and/or allowed, with verbage in addition. SCARY! We really loved that Grace Cathedral had simply said in their service folder at the disbribution - one sentence, and very clear (and open). With regard to instructions or anything else NOT a part of the liturgy: less is more.
After a wonderful postlude on the new Taylor and Boody organ, "Litanies" by Alain, we looked for a place to have brunch. Note to self: let's provide a sheet for ideas for post-Eucharist eatage for folks from out of town!
GRACE CATHEDRAL - a Lent Procession Service at 3:00
Another beautiful service, although very few in attendance. Around 30 total beside the choir. (And, literally "beside" as we sat in the Choir with them). It is a lovely Anglican space, very large with acoustics to match. The organ is a large Aeolian Skinner which is all over the room, and works extremely well - especially in the Anglican tradition. The choir is about 24 singers, half of which are the boy sopranos. A lovely sound, although rough in the details of ensemble.
It was a lessons and hymns structure, with four lessons each followed by an anthem and hymn. they sang literature by Byrd (Civitas sancti), Walton (Drop drop slow tears), Victoria (Domine non sum dignus) , Herbert Howels (Like as the hart), and a mystery piece not cited in the bulletin. Sounded like Pary. The Howels especially touch me, beautifully done. All four were pieces I'd like to include in either NLC or Mount Olive.
To end the service, we sang the Great Litany in procession to the Baptismal font for the closing prayers. There is a labyrinth near the font, and a person using that in meditation was suddenly surrounded by a full procession of 6 clergy, cross, torches, choir, and 30 congregants! Didn't seem to rattle her, she just kind of froze and waited to finish. The congregation sang (a zillion times) one of two simple responses - which the choir embellished harmonically in various ways - very effective. Another trick to take home.
Much was learned - both things to emulate, and things we can avoid in our context. More on that when I return......
Over and out - Agent Cherwien
ST MARK's LUTHERAN CHURCH
We attended the Choral Eucharist at St. Marks' Lutheran Church, a parish very similar to Mount Olive: in town, musical/liturgical, and open. It's a 100+ year-old building which had recently been refurbished after the earthquake. It's a beautiful space - wrapping around on the sides to give the feeling of gathering "around" word and table. The rear balcony also wrapped around about a third of the way - which gave more of a sense of the choir being "with the people" in their leadership since they'd be kind of next to us instead of behind us, yet for their anthem they would move the center, rear. One reading desk, central altar, font in the back. Everything very bright, and very beautiful.
The ligurgy was a wonderful experience, many things learned as a worshipper. They began the service with the Litany, processing around the nave as we sang. (making the same musical mistakes everyone does - thought we fixed those with ELW!). The people were engaged, and we had company in song - which does the most to bring others into the song. I still believe that to be the case with everything in liturgy: the people's action speaks the meaningfulness and depth of their faith more than any words. "Words of welcome" really don't. Action and song does. There were about 100 people in attendance, including a former tenor from the National Lutheran Choir! Quite diverse, obviously committed.
We sang setting five from ELW for the ordinary, and several hymns. The Psalmody used a new setting from a resource Augsburg recently published. The congregation sang only the antiphon, the verses were sung by the choir. (I still prefer to have the people sing these ancient and important songs of the church themselves). The choir thoughtfully did interesting things with the verses, however, alternating between two soloists, a quartet, and the whole choir singing anglican chant style. The cantor chose who among those options relative to the text. Something to take home!
The choir sang William Walton's "A Litany" with the text "Drop, drop slow tears" - a beautiful text very appropriate. A very clean sound - with a choir about the same size as Mount Olive. Clearly, however, their role was firstly liturgical and they did that very well.
The Communion had a huge paragraph about "what and who" was done and/or allowed, with verbage in addition. SCARY! We really loved that Grace Cathedral had simply said in their service folder at the disbribution - one sentence, and very clear (and open). With regard to instructions or anything else NOT a part of the liturgy: less is more.
After a wonderful postlude on the new Taylor and Boody organ, "Litanies" by Alain, we looked for a place to have brunch. Note to self: let's provide a sheet for ideas for post-Eucharist eatage for folks from out of town!
GRACE CATHEDRAL - a Lent Procession Service at 3:00
Another beautiful service, although very few in attendance. Around 30 total beside the choir. (And, literally "beside" as we sat in the Choir with them). It is a lovely Anglican space, very large with acoustics to match. The organ is a large Aeolian Skinner which is all over the room, and works extremely well - especially in the Anglican tradition. The choir is about 24 singers, half of which are the boy sopranos. A lovely sound, although rough in the details of ensemble.
It was a lessons and hymns structure, with four lessons each followed by an anthem and hymn. they sang literature by Byrd (Civitas sancti), Walton (Drop drop slow tears), Victoria (Domine non sum dignus) , Herbert Howels (Like as the hart), and a mystery piece not cited in the bulletin. Sounded like Pary. The Howels especially touch me, beautifully done. All four were pieces I'd like to include in either NLC or Mount Olive.
To end the service, we sang the Great Litany in procession to the Baptismal font for the closing prayers. There is a labyrinth near the font, and a person using that in meditation was suddenly surrounded by a full procession of 6 clergy, cross, torches, choir, and 30 congregants! Didn't seem to rattle her, she just kind of froze and waited to finish. The congregation sang (a zillion times) one of two simple responses - which the choir embellished harmonically in various ways - very effective. Another trick to take home.
Much was learned - both things to emulate, and things we can avoid in our context. More on that when I return......
Over and out - Agent Cherwien
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Wine country!
What to do with three days between Ash Wednesday and the First Sunday in Lent in Northern California?
Wine tasting, of course. We toured two charming "loops" - Amador County, just north and west of Sacramento, and the Russian River Valley in Sinoma County. Small country roads surrounded by acres and acres of vineyards in the gentle foot-hills of the California mountains. Small unknown vintner after small vintner - all with tasting rooms, eager to get discovered. They love to talk about their grapes, their process, their products and it is truly eye opening. Wine is truly an ancient, living substance which is full of life. The surroundings where they get to live and work: simply stunning. Our favorites were by far the small "never-heard-of-them" places we'd happen upon. We have websites from all of them, and can order from home when we financially recover from these gallops.
What does wine-tasting have to do with sabbatical? Let's leave that answer to the imagination.
Wine tasting, of course. We toured two charming "loops" - Amador County, just north and west of Sacramento, and the Russian River Valley in Sinoma County. Small country roads surrounded by acres and acres of vineyards in the gentle foot-hills of the California mountains. Small unknown vintner after small vintner - all with tasting rooms, eager to get discovered. They love to talk about their grapes, their process, their products and it is truly eye opening. Wine is truly an ancient, living substance which is full of life. The surroundings where they get to live and work: simply stunning. Our favorites were by far the small "never-heard-of-them" places we'd happen upon. We have websites from all of them, and can order from home when we financially recover from these gallops.
What does wine-tasting have to do with sabbatical? Let's leave that answer to the imagination.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Ash Wednesday, San Francisco
Ash Wednesday liturgy at Grace Cathedral (Anglican), San Francisco.
A quick look at the website - 7:30 service. Allowing plenty of time to get there from Susan's sister's house in Sacramento, we arrived at 6:00 - plenty of time. So we thought. It was already starting! (A closer look on the website later revealed it: the "7:30" service was in the am). Good grief - if only I'd look at things a bit more thoroughly. Scrolling further down, the last Ash Wednesday service listed (of several) was indeed 6:00 pm. Lucky we got there when we did, we didn't miss anything. Lesson learned: websites are important!
A beautiful, and meaningful service was offered. Plenty of people of a great diversity in many ways, and very welcoming and warm. A men's choir sang (again, as in England, sounding a bit muffled way up in the choir away from us) anthems by Byrd, Victoria, and a composer I hadn't heard of: Adrian Batten. Psalmody was chanted using the plainsong materials I've known - simple, complicated, beautiful - all at the same time.
What was especially interesting was the array of materials in the narthex. Very thought provoking, and very beautifully written. Words of invitation that also introduced who they are, what they do and why, and suggestions for understanding. No dumbing down here, no down-playing of controversial issues, yet very loving and respectful: they do believe people (even the venerated visitor) can be beings of intelligence. What struck us, was that many of these items could have been written about Mount Olive, noting the similarity between what they believe and how they practice that as a community.
An "events" brochure especially caught my eye: events that brought faith, spirit and beauty together. That's Mount Olive. Concerts, extra liturgies (like the procession services - which I'll be attending Sunday), lectures, art, labyrinth walks - all connected to the same purpose. Love that. Mount Olive has a growing list of efforts: Music and Fine Arts, Conference on Liturgy, Bach Tage, Hymn Festivals - mostly operating independently. Can we bring all these efforts under one umbrella and invite the hungry as Grace Cathedral does? (rhetorical . . . .)
Much to bring home to emulate from Grace Cathedral.
A quick look at the website - 7:30 service. Allowing plenty of time to get there from Susan's sister's house in Sacramento, we arrived at 6:00 - plenty of time. So we thought. It was already starting! (A closer look on the website later revealed it: the "7:30" service was in the am). Good grief - if only I'd look at things a bit more thoroughly. Scrolling further down, the last Ash Wednesday service listed (of several) was indeed 6:00 pm. Lucky we got there when we did, we didn't miss anything. Lesson learned: websites are important!
A beautiful, and meaningful service was offered. Plenty of people of a great diversity in many ways, and very welcoming and warm. A men's choir sang (again, as in England, sounding a bit muffled way up in the choir away from us) anthems by Byrd, Victoria, and a composer I hadn't heard of: Adrian Batten. Psalmody was chanted using the plainsong materials I've known - simple, complicated, beautiful - all at the same time.
What was especially interesting was the array of materials in the narthex. Very thought provoking, and very beautifully written. Words of invitation that also introduced who they are, what they do and why, and suggestions for understanding. No dumbing down here, no down-playing of controversial issues, yet very loving and respectful: they do believe people (even the venerated visitor) can be beings of intelligence. What struck us, was that many of these items could have been written about Mount Olive, noting the similarity between what they believe and how they practice that as a community.
An "events" brochure especially caught my eye: events that brought faith, spirit and beauty together. That's Mount Olive. Concerts, extra liturgies (like the procession services - which I'll be attending Sunday), lectures, art, labyrinth walks - all connected to the same purpose. Love that. Mount Olive has a growing list of efforts: Music and Fine Arts, Conference on Liturgy, Bach Tage, Hymn Festivals - mostly operating independently. Can we bring all these efforts under one umbrella and invite the hungry as Grace Cathedral does? (rhetorical . . . .)
Much to bring home to emulate from Grace Cathedral.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
R and R in Florida
Four absolutely stunning days in Islamorada, Florida, about half way to Key West from the main-land. 80 degrees, sunny, water everywhere. Beautiful turquoise, different shades of blue, as far as one can see in any direction. On some of the bridges (one is seven miles long) it's hard to see that there really is terra firma on either side of the bridge, they appear to be bridges over the entire ocean with no land in sight. But the water and its colors are simply amazing.
How difficult it must be to live in a climate and region where the main thing is: luxurious relaxing and entertainment; tourism. For those of us in the north, the seasons of nature really coincide well with the liturgical year. The cycle of darkness and light, dormancy and new birth, cold and warm, all help intensify our human experience as God's people. This is a marvelous welcome climate to visit, but I admire the locals who maintain their disciplines of faith.
Yet, the warm air, gentle breeze, the colors of this area of creation: it's also hard not to marvel at creation. Created by reef, it is a living example of life crawling out of the depths - and life is in complete abundance: Alligators and all living in harmony.
It's been a while since Susan and I have had this kind of time together. It was a true, warmly felt gift.
How difficult it must be to live in a climate and region where the main thing is: luxurious relaxing and entertainment; tourism. For those of us in the north, the seasons of nature really coincide well with the liturgical year. The cycle of darkness and light, dormancy and new birth, cold and warm, all help intensify our human experience as God's people. This is a marvelous welcome climate to visit, but I admire the locals who maintain their disciplines of faith.
Yet, the warm air, gentle breeze, the colors of this area of creation: it's also hard not to marvel at creation. Created by reef, it is a living example of life crawling out of the depths - and life is in complete abundance: Alligators and all living in harmony.
It's been a while since Susan and I have had this kind of time together. It was a true, warmly felt gift.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Hymn Festivals in Tampa, Savannah
Grace Lutheran Church, Carrolwood, Fl (Tampa), Ascension Lutheran, Savannah, GA.
These are important. Hardworking, diligent and extremely faithful church musicians set them up. Eager for a "shot in the arm of the cause" they go through a tremendous amount of work and emotion to set up these events - and people always respond. The hosts usually wish more would attend, but I'm thrilled with a choir, and four-parts in the pews regardless of whether it's 20 or 2,000 people. Always those who attend are teary-eyed appreciative. That speaks to the starvation in the church these days - people who cherish memory represented in their hymns of faith are being denied. Those who come love God and love to sing about it. The choirs have fun with different leadership (even if I ask for the same things as their regular director). I feel empowered by my home experiences and Mount Olive traditions, and my unique journey and which helps me feel free to push the edges - and they respond all the more.
These two hymn festivals have a special connection (although this is not unusual in my travels) - Paul Manz had dedicated both instruments with hymn festivals in he 1980's. For Tampa it was as though it was yesterday. Paul returned to Tampa for a 10th year anniversary hymn festival, and my visit marked 20 years. All three events are seared in their experiencial/spiritual memory. Witnessing the long-term impact of Paul Manz's vast ministry puts both joy in my heart, as well as sends a chill down my spine: I must take these calls to responsibility seriously! It's an honor, joy and huge responsibility to be among those who continue what Mount Olive and Dr. Manz began in such a profound and abundant way. There can be no "second Paul Manz" but once that cart is rolling, there are those of us who are called nudge it further to keep the experiences growing and moving!
I am grateful that Mount Olive continues to support these efforts (even as these trips create an inconvenient absence from Mount Olive at times). They are water for thirsty lovers og God through hymnody, boosts for hard working, diligent and faithful church musicians and pastors eager to keep this tradition alive, and give witness to the living Spirit of God in these communities. Too many faith communities are trying to deny their song memory - the good news is it refuses to disappear. These events help. They are important.
These are important. Hardworking, diligent and extremely faithful church musicians set them up. Eager for a "shot in the arm of the cause" they go through a tremendous amount of work and emotion to set up these events - and people always respond. The hosts usually wish more would attend, but I'm thrilled with a choir, and four-parts in the pews regardless of whether it's 20 or 2,000 people. Always those who attend are teary-eyed appreciative. That speaks to the starvation in the church these days - people who cherish memory represented in their hymns of faith are being denied. Those who come love God and love to sing about it. The choirs have fun with different leadership (even if I ask for the same things as their regular director). I feel empowered by my home experiences and Mount Olive traditions, and my unique journey and which helps me feel free to push the edges - and they respond all the more.
These two hymn festivals have a special connection (although this is not unusual in my travels) - Paul Manz had dedicated both instruments with hymn festivals in he 1980's. For Tampa it was as though it was yesterday. Paul returned to Tampa for a 10th year anniversary hymn festival, and my visit marked 20 years. All three events are seared in their experiencial/spiritual memory. Witnessing the long-term impact of Paul Manz's vast ministry puts both joy in my heart, as well as sends a chill down my spine: I must take these calls to responsibility seriously! It's an honor, joy and huge responsibility to be among those who continue what Mount Olive and Dr. Manz began in such a profound and abundant way. There can be no "second Paul Manz" but once that cart is rolling, there are those of us who are called nudge it further to keep the experiences growing and moving!
I am grateful that Mount Olive continues to support these efforts (even as these trips create an inconvenient absence from Mount Olive at times). They are water for thirsty lovers og God through hymnody, boosts for hard working, diligent and faithful church musicians and pastors eager to keep this tradition alive, and give witness to the living Spirit of God in these communities. Too many faith communities are trying to deny their song memory - the good news is it refuses to disappear. These events help. They are important.
Friday, January 18, 2008
New York/Tampa
A very fitting start to this time - two days with Alice Parker in Manhattan. Five of us sitting around a dining-room table studied several scores: some brand-new compositions of Alice based on Gregorian chants - very beautiful. We then studied and sang Bach's motet "Lobet den Herrn" and Britten's "Rejoice in the Lamb" We thoroughly studied each text, then analyzed the scores, hearing the music; getting past "the page" (which Alice loves to villify!) - the page only gets us to making music, and it not THE point.
Another great gift of this time was attending a Jazz club at Lincoln Center on Wednesday night. Amazing - very complicated jazz patterns - over my head to be sure. But I was stuck by something that applies: each player really has to put them selves out there on a limb at all times - letting go always. However, it has to be done in a way that does not over shadow or over power the ensemble. They also take turns with the spotlight, where they let go even more. This reminded me both of congregational singing, and choral singing. Everyone needs to step up to the plate; let go; put themselves out there. That way a powerful unified voice of the group is formed. If individuals to not put themselves forth from deep within, the collective is tremendously weakened. But when everyone does let go and put themselves out there - a unique and powerful voice is formed - singing fully out - yet with an ear to everyone else, knowing when to "take the turn" (singing a theme, entrance, phrase, stanza...) and when to step into the ensemble. But - if one person does NOT step up to the plate - the others have to step down in order to not overshadow. Let that NOT happen!
The other gift of "letting go, stepping up to the plate" is that in doing so we encourage each other to respond, which is what Jazz is all about. I'd watch them smile at each other in approval, and they would play what they heard, or join in - contantly playing off each other. This is what Paul Manz talks about in two ways: Regarding improvised hymn introductions: at first he was encouraged to "do what you feel" (i.e., "let go") and don't worry about anything like time. When he did, people responded, sending him energy back and he got braver and braver and developed into what is now internationally known. This leads to what he also described as "the circle" of energy - he would present his imaginative ideas at the time of the hymn, the people would respond in their song (they becoming braver and braver) and that came back to him which in turn led him to more, them more, and so on and so on. If any one piece of that circle breaks, it doesn't work. This is jazz. This is congregational song. This is choral music.
Now it's Tampa - a very late arrival alst night, today to the church to spend the day practicing, hymn festival tonight, workshop tomorrow, tomorrow afternoon and evening: to the beach! I hope it stops raining.
Another great gift of this time was attending a Jazz club at Lincoln Center on Wednesday night. Amazing - very complicated jazz patterns - over my head to be sure. But I was stuck by something that applies: each player really has to put them selves out there on a limb at all times - letting go always. However, it has to be done in a way that does not over shadow or over power the ensemble. They also take turns with the spotlight, where they let go even more. This reminded me both of congregational singing, and choral singing. Everyone needs to step up to the plate; let go; put themselves out there. That way a powerful unified voice of the group is formed. If individuals to not put themselves forth from deep within, the collective is tremendously weakened. But when everyone does let go and put themselves out there - a unique and powerful voice is formed - singing fully out - yet with an ear to everyone else, knowing when to "take the turn" (singing a theme, entrance, phrase, stanza...) and when to step into the ensemble. But - if one person does NOT step up to the plate - the others have to step down in order to not overshadow. Let that NOT happen!
The other gift of "letting go, stepping up to the plate" is that in doing so we encourage each other to respond, which is what Jazz is all about. I'd watch them smile at each other in approval, and they would play what they heard, or join in - contantly playing off each other. This is what Paul Manz talks about in two ways: Regarding improvised hymn introductions: at first he was encouraged to "do what you feel" (i.e., "let go") and don't worry about anything like time. When he did, people responded, sending him energy back and he got braver and braver and developed into what is now internationally known. This leads to what he also described as "the circle" of energy - he would present his imaginative ideas at the time of the hymn, the people would respond in their song (they becoming braver and braver) and that came back to him which in turn led him to more, them more, and so on and so on. If any one piece of that circle breaks, it doesn't work. This is jazz. This is congregational song. This is choral music.
Now it's Tampa - a very late arrival alst night, today to the church to spend the day practicing, hymn festival tonight, workshop tomorrow, tomorrow afternoon and evening: to the beach! I hope it stops raining.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Travel Schedule during Sabbatical
SABBATICAL TRAVEL SCHEDULE
David Cherwien
December 19-25 – London
Outbound 19th: 4:50 pm
Return: 25th: 4:30 pm.
January 15-20 = New York, Tampa
New York – Score Study with Alice Parker
Outbound 15th: 8:00 am
Tampa: Grace Lutheran Church, Hymn Festival
NY to Tampa: Thursday, 17th – 8:00 pm.
Return 20: 8:00 om
January 21-22 – Valparaiso (ALCM board meeting)
Depart 21 am, return pm on 22.
January 24-26 – Ascension Lutheran Church, Savannah GA, Hymn Festival
Depart 24 – 8:00 am
Return, 26th – 10 pm
January 27 – Resurrection Lutheran Church, Roseville, MN
Late afternoon
January 29, 30 – Meeting in St. Louis for NLC Christmas 08
leave early am on 1/29, return at noon on 1/30)
January 31-February 4 – Florida Keys
Relaxing with Susan on the beach!!
February 6th – 11. San Francisco, CA -
Depart am on 6th
Return mid-day, on the 11th.
February 14 – 28, France
Leave 4:00 pm, through Detroit
Return evening of the 28th
March 7,8 – Liberty, Missouri (Kansas City Area)
William Jewel College – Hymn Festival
Travel out 6th, return evening of the 8th
March 18 – Return to NLC rehearsals.
March 19-23, New York (Attend Triduum liturgies in Manhattan)
Outbound am of 19th
Return, afternoon of the 23rd.
March 27-31 – Alexandria, VA. (Washington DC)
St. Mark’s Lutheran Church – Hymn Festival
Travel Schedule not yet obtained
April 4-6 – Wassau, WI Hymn Festival for AGO chapter
Leave Friday the 4th, return the evening of the 6th (driving)
April 10-13. NLC tour to Grand Rapids and Fort Wayne.
David Cherwien
December 19-25 – London
Outbound 19th: 4:50 pm
Return: 25th: 4:30 pm.
January 15-20 = New York, Tampa
New York – Score Study with Alice Parker
Outbound 15th: 8:00 am
Tampa: Grace Lutheran Church, Hymn Festival
NY to Tampa: Thursday, 17th – 8:00 pm.
Return 20: 8:00 om
January 21-22 – Valparaiso (ALCM board meeting)
Depart 21 am, return pm on 22.
January 24-26 – Ascension Lutheran Church, Savannah GA, Hymn Festival
Depart 24 – 8:00 am
Return, 26th – 10 pm
January 27 – Resurrection Lutheran Church, Roseville, MN
Late afternoon
January 29, 30 – Meeting in St. Louis for NLC Christmas 08
leave early am on 1/29, return at noon on 1/30)
January 31-February 4 – Florida Keys
Relaxing with Susan on the beach!!
February 6th – 11. San Francisco, CA -
Depart am on 6th
Return mid-day, on the 11th.
February 14 – 28, France
Leave 4:00 pm, through Detroit
Return evening of the 28th
March 7,8 – Liberty, Missouri (Kansas City Area)
William Jewel College – Hymn Festival
Travel out 6th, return evening of the 8th
March 18 – Return to NLC rehearsals.
March 19-23, New York (Attend Triduum liturgies in Manhattan)
Outbound am of 19th
Return, afternoon of the 23rd.
March 27-31 – Alexandria, VA. (Washington DC)
St. Mark’s Lutheran Church – Hymn Festival
Travel Schedule not yet obtained
April 4-6 – Wassau, WI Hymn Festival for AGO chapter
Leave Friday the 4th, return the evening of the 6th (driving)
April 10-13. NLC tour to Grand Rapids and Fort Wayne.
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