People of the Book go sailing

One of my favorite movie lines ever is from the comedy "What About Bob?" Bob (Bill Murray) is multiphobic, almost panphobic, and has stalked Dr. Marvin, his therapist (Richard Dreyfuss) to his vacation home, hoping for some attention and help. Anna Marvin coaxes Bob onto her friend's sailboat, with this result:




For Bob, this brand-new experience is a defining moment--it becomes part of his self-descriptive narrative. And that's where the "funny" lives. Because he's only experienced one aspect of what it is to be a sailor...he's literally all tied up in knots.

Well, as for me: I'm a reader! I read! Reading is central to my makeup.

• Fiction and poetry teach me to imagine new worlds, and to see the one I'm in more clearly and completely.
• The Bible shapes me, along with academic-type study of various subjects. I get all excited about things like historical/critical interpretation, about peeling away the crunchy intellectual layers to find the chewy center.
• I understand music most immediately through listening, but also through navigation of a printed score. I don't seem to have much of a "jam" gene; rather, my bent as a singer or a conductor is to combine the forces of imagination/imagery, textual interpretation, historical understanding, and music theory. I try to understand the pieces and then do what they ask of me...to blow into the "sails" of the song. At its best, it's as alive as a jam session that really cooks; it's just a somewhat different path to the same destination.
  

I was at a choral workshop recently with Craig Arnold. He said that it's our job, as singers and conductors, to understand what's on the page and to bring it to life...in our voices, our faces, our bodies, whatever it takes to fully present the message of that particular piece of music.

The page as a bearer of meaning...a means to an end, not an end in itself. Hmmm...interesting.

If you've ever sung in (or heard) a choir that has rendered a piece of music completely, you know what that "bringing to life" feels like. It's as if everyone is moved by the same gust of wind at that exact moment, and we're all sailing. Conversely, if you've ever sung in (or heard) a choir that sort plods through their piece, you also know what I mean. Like Bob, we can get sort of tied up in knots--so focused on what our next note/consonant sound/vowel sound/dynamic marking is that we miss the deeper meaning. It's easy to keep our heads down and just look at the next thing in front of us. But it doesn't make very interesting music. If you're singing "alleluia" with a frown on your face, that creates cognitive dissonance for the listener, who then frowns with you. And the "alleluia," which was the point of the thing, gets lost.

We Western types are, in many senses, People of the Book. We read to discover, to understand, to learn. I don't think this is problematic, in and of itself; it's one of our points of origin, a characteristic of growing up in the Western world.

However, if we get stuck to the page, we miss out on the geist of the thing.

Music from oral traditions is passed on in a very different way. For example, in many parts of Africa, a child wishing to learn to drum starts out by listening to the drummers of his (yep, usually it's a guy thing) village, who repeat complex, polyrhythmic patterns beneath the improvisations of the master drummers. The child might be a listener for a l-o-n-g time before he's given a drum and a simple pattern to play. As the child's ear and technique improve, he's allowed into the more complex workings of the ensemble. This takes years, and there's no paper involved anywhere.

Folk songs of every culture are handed down by, well, singing them. Simple, memorable melodies with simple accompaniments (if any) are handed down, generation by generation by making music together. Again, no paper.

The beauty of the paper is that it's able to transmit a large amount of complex information pretty economically. It's researchable, it leaves time for pondering, and often, it charts more than one possible route to its destination. But paper is only a starting point; the music doesn't live until it lives in our bodies.

I know that my choirs sing better when they can get off the page. More and more, I'm making opportunities for that to happen--having a longer curve of rehearsals, so that we can memorize (or get close to memorization of) the mechanics, in order to enter into real conversation with our congregation/audience. There is generally some grumbling about this; most of us are middle-aged, and memorization takes a bit more effort than in those halcyon days of our youth. :-)

But it's not just about the freedom of movement and communication we gain by not having to hold music. There's something intangible at work here, too. It's about having the discipline to turn ourselves into artists...into sailors. If we don't somehow internalize the message of the page (music, poetry, Scripture), we won't have access to it when its moment comes.

We study so that we may practice well. We practice so that we may participate in the creative process of the Holy Spirit. In other words, we study and practice so that we may live.

Madeleine L'Engle talked about her piano practice as a way both of preparing herself and of inviting the Holy Spirit's presence...of readying herself for that moment in which the Holy Spirit would come:

Hugh and I heard Rudolf Serkin play Beethoven's Appassionata Sonata
in Symphony Hall, many years ago.
It was one of those great unpredictable moments.
When the last notes had been lost in the silence,
the crowd not only applauded, cheered, stamped, we stood on our chairs.
This doesn't happen often in Boston.

But if Serkin did not practice eight hours a day,
every day,
the moment of inspiration,
when it came,
would have been lost.
Nothing would have happened;
there would have been no instrument
through which the revelation could be revealed.

I'm not suggesting that church choirs should practice eight hours a day. But I AM suggesting that, as conductors, we must invite our singers into the adventure of the thing; that we never let the phrase "just a church choir" pass our lips; that we take seriously their commitment and artistry; and that we help them to prepare themselves musically (mechanically, intellectually, spiritually) for that moment of inspiration--the moment in which the Spirit comes.

I'm suggesting that we take 'em sailing.

Relief on the reef

It'll be a short one tonight, but I wanted to offer an update about my Twisted Wrister. Beloved had surgery today to repair her spectacularly broken wrist, and it went well. It was a really l-o-n-g day, but we've made it to the point of "OK, let the healing begin!"

That healing has been helped along by the prayers, good wishes, and practical support of many, especially B and M, who have made a tough week easier with their many kindnesses. Family is a good thing, in all its forms.
Thank you to all of you.

On a brighter note, despite the practical challenges of Beloved's injury, she was an absolute trooper through our final two concerts of the season. In a 14-person choir, it's a big deal when one can't sing, and so she propped herself up on a stool and toughed it out. One of our basses was also on a stool, about 5 weeks ahead of her in healing his broken ankle.

We looked kind of funny.

I talked with the audience at a couple of points in the program, to shed some light on the more challenging music. I was joking about the Britten pieces we were singing, which aren't performed often because of the technical difficulties for the singers: "Obviously, we're a bit worse for wear. This is full-contact choral singing, people! Put your helmets on!" (cue audience laughter here)

It was a great experience. The choir really came into its own with these last two concerts, after two years of work and four concert seasons. And we raised enough money in these two concerts to feed forty kids for a year through our charity partner. And this is the second concert weekend of two. Time well spent. And we got some invitations for future concerts, as well.

And let's not forget Pentecost worship, which was stuffed with music. My church choir sang their hearts out. Perhaps the most obvious evidence of the Holy Spirit's presence: during the closing hymn, my dear, wonderful, straight-white-middle-aged-Lutheran choir danced.

Together.

Spontaneously.

It was my favorite moment of a full-to-bursting-with-wonders weekend.

With these happenings, another singing/conducting season draws to a close. I'm grateful to have arrived, more-or-less in one piece, at the fallow season. I expect that to last about two weeks before I miss it desperately. :-)

Peace, friends, and thank you for your kindness.

Friday five: gifts of the Spirit

OR PENTECOST THIS WEEKEND, FROM ACTS CHAPTER 2

Then Peter stood up with the Eleven, raised his voice and addressed the crowd: "Fellow Jews and all of you who live in Jerusalem, let me explain this to you; listen carefully to what I say. These men are not drunk, as you suppose. It's only nine in the morning! No, this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel: 'In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams. Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days, and they will prophesy. I will show wonders in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood and fire and billows of smoke. The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord. And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.' "

Thinking about all the gifts of the spirit and what Peter said of the "last days." Have you or anyone you know...

1. ...ever experienced a prophecy (vision or dream) that came true?

Not so much a prophecy as the very clear sense, upon a first taste of something, that it represented a beginning for me, the first frame of the next stage of my life. My campus visit to the college I'd later attend, my first real step into church music, my first kiss with Beloved. At each of those moments, I was sure about what would happen next, before I had any reason to be (as each represented a sea change in my life). That certainty carried me through a number of "dark nights of the soul." They were clear moments of a YES so strong that it rang in all the chambers of my heart, soul and mind.

2. ...dreamed of a stranger, then actually met them later?

My older self. Sort of a "deja vu" thing when I got to the "recognition" part, a "Hey, some part of me saw this before" thing.

3. ...seen a wonder in heaven? (including UFO's)

Well, the Northern Lights knock me out every time I see them!

4. ...seen a "sign" on the earth?

I think there are signs of God's presence among us everywhere: in the kindness of a stranger, in the beauty of dew on grass, in a congregation singing together. Sometimes it moves me to tears. I think the Celtic concept of "thin places" is really interesting— spots at which the "veil" between this world and another is translucent.

5. ...experienced knowledge of another language without ever having studied it?

Music. And the beauty of it is, everyone can have that experience. You don't have to understand all the compositional intricacies and cultural references of a piece of music to be moved by it. You just have to be willing to really open yourself and listen.

Bonus Question: What would a modern day news coverage of the first Pentecost have sounded like?
I think we would have received eyewitness accounts of what they were wearing and what they'd been drinking, that we all might buy those products. Sigh.

Thanks for the questions, Presbyterian Gal!

Shhh...be vewwy, vewwy quiet....

We'we hunting hewetics!

A local progressive Roman Catholic church, frequently in trouble with the local archdiocese over its stances on various social issues, has dis-invited a U of M professor scheduled to speak about torture at their Sunday morning adult forum.

Because he has publicly stated his pro-choice stance on abortion.

More than twenty years ago.

About which he is not scheduled to speak.

Based upon my personal experience with this community (and that of my friends), as well as inference from this article and this column, it seems that this was not the decision of the church's own governing body. Instead, the Archdiocese of Minneapolis/St. Paul intervened to smack the parish back into line, dogmatically speaking.

Thankfully, the talk has been rescheduled (and expanded to address this particular controversy) at a local conference center run by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet.

One of the things I truly appreciate about Roman Catholic ethics is that they take individual conscience seriously. Why, then, is it not possible that members of that body could find something of value in a talk delivered by a professional ethicist who happens to disagree with official teaching on one topic entirely unrelated to his thesis for the day?

That seems pretty rigid, but absolutely in line with many of the other proclamations and actions enacted since Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger became Pope Benedict. I find it a bit frightening, in terms of the church's role in helping people to develop that conscience which is supposed to help them navigate the moral questions of their lives.

I understand the desire and responsibility of the Church to hold on to the core of its teaching. I sympathize, I truly do. It's a complicated, messy business. However, to put that Church's teaching beyond scrutiny is terribly unhealthy, and does a grave injustice to its members. Creation of a climate of fear is downright immoral.

Star Wars, that icon of pop culture, has served as a tongue-in-cheek source of citations for many a sermon. I think Princess Leia may also have a prophetic vision of the trajectory of Benedict's Church—at least the American piece of it:

Governor Tarkin: Princess Leia, before your execution, you will join me at a ceremony that will make this battle station operational. No star system will dare oppose the Emperor now.
Princess Leia: The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers.

If people don't have a voice within their church, they will disengage and seek a forum elsewhere. If controversial issues are not discussed fully and honestly, the Church's real influence on moral development is diluted. It is the job of the Church to be a place where we have conversations about the moral issues of our lives. A Church that doesn't provide that forum is shirking its responsibility to its members. History teaches that there are two possible outcomes for such a church. One is irrelevance; the other, revolution.

It seems to me that the Church lives inside a tension of self-definition, which shifts over time from one end of a spectrum to the other. That tension is this: in the working out of God's will for humanity, is the core of the church defined primarily by its historic teachings or by its members, the Body of Christ? No generation does a perfect job of finding balance inside that tension. However, it seems to me that this pope and the hierarchy he has put in place have swung quite far toward the former end of the spectrum. I pray that we find a way to live more productively inside that tension...more toward its center, before the American wing of the Church breaks right off the body.

I like the ELCA's balance better, expressed in a marketing campaign of a few years ago (and lived out with varying degrees of success). It said,

He died to take away your sins, not your mind.

I have to believe, this week before Pentecost, that it's OK for the Body of Christ to get its hair messed up from time to time by the rushing of a mighty Wind.