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!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
