campanile in the cornfield

Rhein Wein All The Time

2009-08-04T22:40:00.000-07:00

At the tail end of my second summer Europe tour we spent a day in Rüdesheim am Rhein. As its official name suggests this small Hessian village is located on the Rhine. The so-called "Rhine Gorge" is a picturesque segment of this river as it straddles the border of Hesse and Rheinland-Pfalz. The scenic rolling hills, countless vineyards, and historical structures in the immediate vicinity draw more foreign tourists to tiny Rüdesheim than anywhere in Germany after Cologne Cathedral.

Rüdesheim sits almost directly across the river from Bingen, the birthplace of Hildegard, one of the medieval world's most fascinating personalities. Despite being disadvantaged because of her sex, Hildegard counselled popes and saints, abbots and emperors. (She was also author, abbess, linguist, composer, naturalist, philosopher, physician, herbalist, poet, channeller, visionary, and polymath). In 1165 she founded a Benedictine Abbey on a hill over Rüdesheim at Eibingen. The secularization of the early 19th century dissolved Eibingen Abbey but a century later in 1904 Prince Karl zu Löwenstein-Wertheim-Rosenberg, a wealthy Catholic nobleman, reestablished it. Today this house belongs to the Beuronese Congregation of Benedictines.

The reconstructed Eibingen abbey complex features a neo-Romanesque church in rough stone, renowned for its Beuronese decor. The gardens in front of the church contain a beautiful contemporary sculpture of the local patroness. Nuns of this house work vineyards on the surrounding slopes. I missed the winetasting but heard it was phenomenal— labels employ motifs from Hildegard's artwork.

Rüdesheim has more wine in one small space than I have ever encountered. It was okay. Our hotel nudged up against the Drosselgasse, a narrow 15th century alley crammed with souvenir stores, and wine shops. The area produces fine Rieslings. We enjoyed many of these local wines during our night at Rüdesheim— perhaps too many for the 10 hour flight the next morning! Ansbach was tasty too.

Ansbach, a locally distilled Uralt Brandy, finds its way into nearly all souvenir shops and caffeinated beverages— Rüdesheimer Kaffee is not your cup of Folgers! We visited a bar adjacent to the hotel for this local treat. The waitress lit some Ansbach and sugar on fire and doused it with steamed coffee. A generous dollop of whipped cream and chocolate shavings crown this delectable beverage.

The Niederwalddenkmal looms nearby on a promontory just west of town. Kaiser Wilhelm I laid the foundation stone for this massive monument to German unification in 1871. All creepy overtones of nationalism aside, this giant statue of Germania which was completed in 1883 looks impressive. The location affords a breathtaking view of the Rhine valley as well. I could just picture Wagner and the gods high in Valhalla...looking enviously down upon the Rhine Maidens— Woglinde, Wellgunde, and Flosshilde frolick and sing merrily keeping watch over Das Rheingold...and then comes an ugly dwarf Alberich— "I wants the gold" etc. Who's up for 15 hours of voice killing sonic meat and potatoes?

We got lost as we drove up to the Niederwalddenkmal and found ourselves in the middle of a Rheingau field. It wasn't so bad.

I'm...(Insert Prepositional Phrase)

2009-07-31T14:45:00.000-07:00

I could subtitle this post "Summer Stupidity." In the last couple weeks several friends introduced to me or reminded me of a couple of the world's more ridiculous musical numbers. They're catchy. Yet, in the same breath I can't exaggerate their utter meaninglessness.

First— "I'm at the Pizza Hut; I'm at the Taco Bell; I'm at the combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell." "Das Racist," a Brooklyn based group is responsible for this doozy. What are the lyrics for a majority of the song? You guessed it! I suspect illegal drugs were partly responsible for this song. Remarkably, some people feel this one is a stroke of genius.

I'm at the Pizza Hut etc.

A friend who attends law school in San Francisco alerted me to this song. Apparently Victor Vazquez, one of two in "Das Racist," comes from the Bay area and they have made recurring appearances at a particular club in the vicinity. Wannabe hipster site pitchfork.com has hailed this as the ultimate summer tune. I think they missed the mark. I dub it the ultimate validation of drugs-gone-wrong.

Second— "I'm on a Boat." SNL brings us this fine skit in the form of music video. A special guest appears with "The Lonely Island." This one, contrasting our former number, brims with sundry creative lyrics and a special guest who exemplifies use and abuse- here concerning Auto Tune! The song itself parodies many rap cliches and climbed to the top of You Tube in February 2009. Don't expect to find it there, however- NBC seems pretty diligent about getting its material pulled. Strangely enough, it really takes an effective jab a commercialized hip-hop's all-too-frequent absurd materialism. It sits a few notches up from the previous number on my quality ladder.

When I listen to these songs two things happen in this order:

1. I think of people who argue for "context" as the final determinant in Liturgical Music and those who draw lines quickly. I can't fathom a situation where music that sounds like this could ever be near a Church. However, there's not much to counter this if all that matters is how music "speaks to people" directly. On the other hand, I can't see where people who cast out whole genres quickly make their boundaries. Music exists on a massive continuum. If a congregation sings Tantum Ergo at benediction and Tom Booth immediately follows up with a crashing trap-set for the recessional, this seems perverse. But if the whole Mass was Tom Booth, young people who came expecting this, and most importantly, were edified by it— where's the beef? However, I think these songs show that we can imagine boundaries if not pinpoint them precisely!

2. My brain shuts down.

The Danger of Profiling

2009-07-24T23:19:00.000-07:00

This is a hot topic, especially today with all the hullabaloo about the Cambridge MA Police Department arresting an African-American breaking into his own home, Obama commenting, etc. But that's not the application I wish to address.

In perusing Catholic blogs again (as I convalesce from a wretched tooth extraction) I become a little weary and wary when the soundbytes start to fly. I tend to believe that anything worthy can't be so simplistically reduced. Yet, I find myself continually disappointed.

I find myself in an awkward position for a couple reasons:
1. I am a Catholic musician who is converging on a music degree
2. I am a Catholic musician converging on a music degree living in an extremely conservative/neoconservative/orthodox? diocese who considers graduate studies at Notre Dame.

Regarding the first: There is an apparent chasm in Catholic culture, specifically in liturgical matters. Language has been duly appropriated, terms politically charged. This is unfortunate. For example: parish pianist vs. parish organist, choir director vs. choir leader, parish/pastoral musician vs. music director, pastoral musician vs. sacred musician, sacred musician vs. liturgical musician, Latin vs. no Latin.

I understand there may be substantive differences with these, particularly sacred vs. liturgical (Anthony Ruff distinguishes the two well in his homerun, landmark book). However, it's the political connotations that make this silly. Should we be confortable with making these profiles more from politics than informed theological positions (of which many are valid I must emphasize)!

I can't recall at the moment where I read this but apparently an Episcopal Church Musician once said that "pastoral musician" was essentially a synonym for "bad musician." I'm sure plenty of Catholics who read NLM, CMAA, Fr. Z. etc. would wholeheartedly agree and happily supply anecdotes. "Pastoral musicians" could easily retort with a wholly valid argument: the primary purpose of liturgy is not to showcase art.

On the other hand, I've read many a blog where "pastoral musicians" express disgust for the idolatrous aestheticism that can overtake the highly schooled musician or artist. One may simply counter, however, that the Catholic Church has perhaps the largest tradition of any institution to encourage the development of art. Bug off with the iconoclasm.

I'm not sure precisely where it appears I fall. I'm not sure that I have a choice. Currently the cards are stacked against me: organ is not a favored instrument in many Catholic parishes, organ literature holds even less relevance or prestige, degree holders are increasingly rare in church music. Thus, due to my love of something associated with the past and high artistic standards, I'm probably an elitist- and that's a bad thing.

Regarding the second: There are few places to pursue a sound, well-rounded liturgical/sacred music graduate degree in the US- especially with a Catholic twist. Notre Dame stands out as a rare and notable exception. Problems arise though. As one acquaintance recently put it, and he didn't mean it well, "Oh, you mean the newly christened University of Obama?"

This vexes me. People would be all too eager to make assumptions about my politics, albeit via flawed reasoning (the whole post hoc, ergo propter hoc thing.) This becomes a problem for no other reason than it can create tension with parishioners where I work- parishioners who happen to be both nosy and politically zealous. No, I don't love ND because the President spoke at graduation. No, I wasn't disinterested before he came either. Neither statement reflects my thoughts on the President or politics. Think carefully on that one.

It alarms me, however, that even bishops will encourage this kind of thinking. At a recent conference I helped with an attendee queried Bishop Jackels of Wichita regarding the preservation of "Catholic" identity in our "Catholic" colleges and universities. His answer was to boycott them- not just Notre Dame, but most others too. He suggested several alternatives.

The problem, however, is that the 4 alternatives probably have a collective 1500 students and 3 programs. That's great if one wishes to study philosophy, theology, or youth ministry. What about the novel idea of studying one of the world's many other topics at a Catholic school? Apparently, that's not a concern.

And really, all music schools are full of flitty, feather-brained liberals. "Birds of a feather flock together." Read: Orthodox Catholics beware of applicants armed with graduate music degrees! Thus, I'm probably a theologically dissident liberal.

But what ever happened to letting people speak for themselves? What about the possibility of a "both...and" solution. Can a person with a degree be a relevant "pastoral" musician? Yes. Can one without a degree be a competent one? Yes, as well. The answer truly varies from person to person, from situation to situation.

We all know the stereotypes, but what use has invoking them? Ultimately this calls for an explanation and explanations of stereotypes inevitably devolve into polemical rants or fierce anecdote wars. It's like a conversation I had this morning:

Me: I didn't realize Rush Limbaugh was fired from FOX for racist comments
Party 2: He only said that black quarter-backs were better.
Me: Which is meaningless and, like I said, racist.
Party 2: No, he's just stating the fact that blacks are better athletes
Me: really, we're going there?

Who knows if that stereotype really means something? It's possible, but the truth lies deeply buried in a myriad of converging explanations and a tangled web of sociology. In short, like most generalizations, their ambiguity and offensiveness far outweigh their usefulness.

So, I've been called an elitist— wholly due to my zeal for learning. In this case, I'll wear that badge with honor. If music school teaches me how to write a singable melody and that's "elitism" we're in bad shape. I'm not, however, going to go into a Byzantine fracturing of "Eagle's' Wings" or "Be Not Afraid" and tell 100 reasons why these are poorly written. They are. Yet, people sing them- however incorrectly. This is proof enough for me but winning an argument isn't the point. Improving the situation is- whether that's teaching the songs correctly, writing new ones, or resorting to the "Treasury of Sacred Music" when possible.

Elitism is not what you know but what you do with it- if I learn something I plan to share it with my parish and choir. Beauty and Truth will always be hot commodities. Conscious mediocrity might be second to dishonesty in things that set me off.

Do I have aesthetic standards? Yes.
Do I wish to engage people in the liturgy? Yes
Is it possible to maximize variables? No
Is it possible to optimize variables? Yes

Wow! Fancy that. As long as I don't turn into a philandering AGO grouch someday I'll consider myself marginally successful.

But, really, Vatican II got rid of that old music and Purgatory...

Just kidding.

Archbishop Lucas- The Installation Part II

2009-07-24T19:03:00.000-07:00

"All creatures of our God and King, Lift up your voice and with us sing: Alleluia!"

St. Cecilia Cathedral's eloquence in stone as well as the silvery words of Archbishop Lucas instilled in me (and surely all those assembled Wednesday) a renewed conviction of evangelical enthusiasm. This is not the intellectually bankrupt and trite excitement that characterizes some of the crazier Fundamentalist denominations but the broadest, richest, and most universal sense that is unique to Catholicism. The homily text may be found here: Lucas Homily. For the moment, one may watch the ceremony on-demand here: Lucas Installation.

St. Paul, the first Apostle to the Gentiles, seems a good place to start. Accordingly Archbishop Lucas began his homily reflecting upon the Epistle from 1 Corinthians 12:

St. Paul tells us very clearly that there will be different spiritual gifts, different charisms in the Church. Each gift is truly a manifestation of the One Holy Spirit. The gifts are ordered in their diversity to serve the one Lord Jesus Christ. We give thanks to God that these God-given gifts are so evident as we gather here in this Sacred Liturgy. We are the proof that St. Paul was right about the nature of the Church.

And evident they were! The very ambo from which he preached is carved of South American mahogany and flanked with sculptures of doctors of the church (Peter, Paul, Jerome, Ambrose, Augustine, Gregory the Great). The pulpit itself anticipates the richness of the Word. Czech-born sculptor Albin Polasek created this stunning piece of liturgical furniture as well as the moving crucifix and Stations of the Cross.

Continuing the theme of creativity: Brother William Woeger FSC, Archdiocesan Worship Director designed a Missal specifically for the Installation Mass, never to be used again. The Missal nearly covered the upper torso of the acolyte- it is about two feet tall. Constructed of heavy stock, it was stitched by the Art Department at the University of Nebraska Omaha. The cover is striking: white with a large variant of the Patriarchal Cross in gold with flecks of forest green emblazoned upon it. This is a symbol of the Byzantine Church in the East but also represents the office of Archbishop in the West. I created a horrible replica to give a sense of it. One may catch glimpses of it in the broadcast.

Archbishop Lucas expanded on this concept of diverse gifts as he worked his way through the homily, giving credit to the many people who contributed and attended. He departed from the script a little when he spoke of Music:

I'm just overwhelmed as I think we all are with the gifts of our choir and musicians. You help us long for the heavenly Liturgy as we lift our minds, hearts, and voices to God. You bring honor to St. Cecilia herself and to her Lord and our Lord.

Amen! Countless things about that space proclaim Music as a gateway to heaven. Need I mention the patroness, St. Cecilia in the rose window? First, the building itself sings. When empty the Cathedral has a superb undistorted reverberation of seven seconds which surprisingly helps song blossom and the organ to sing. Sound dances as much as light in this harmonious space. The post-renovation ceiling is full of warm, Mediterranean gold, deep red, and rich star-studded blue. The sun splashes its light as alive as the voice of the Church singing there.

Secondly, the windows. Designed by Charles Connick of Boston, the clerestory windows literally depict the great hymns of the Church: the Magnificat, Te Deum, Gloria, Stabat Mater, Victimae Paschali, Veni Sancte Spiritus, Dies Irae, and Pange Lingua. Thus, the very light which illuminates our worship passes through song!

Thirdly, literally. Text from the Antiphons for the feast of St. Cecilia scroll around the nave high in the entablature at the base of the barrel vaults. Translated it reads:

Alleluia, Alleluia! As dawn was breaking into day, Cecilia cried out saying, "courage, soldiers of Christ. Cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light!" While the instruments were playing, Cecilia sang unto the Lord saying, "Let my heart be undefiled that I be not ashamed." Alleluia, Alleluia!

I thought about this as I listened to the choir sing "Greater Love Hath No Man" at the Offertory. Archbishop Lucas emphasized that we did not come here today from nowhere- we come from the labors of those before us. People have been using their gifts since St. Paul. According to tradition, St. Cecilia sang to God as she died. Walking through subterranean Roman tombs in May, I could viscerally contemplate Cecilia and the early martyrs with their pioneer spirit.

These things are so far away in space and time yet they persist in one remarkable continuum. We unite our voices and sing: "Lord, hear our prayer. Deus exaudi nos. Señor escucha nos." When one comes together with a thousand and supplicates these words in song it puts identity and purpose in perspective. It brings us into awareness of the Communion of Saints, the Universal Church. Archbishop Lucas summarized:

Do we need any further evidence then that St. Paul is right? All of these different people whom I have mentioned manifest the actions of the One Holy Spirit. We don't form separate constituencies; We are not partisans. We are members of the body of Christ. It is the living Lord that is present in this Sacred Liturgy...Drinking freely of the One Spirit we come now to offer fitting praise, honor, and glory to our One Father.

Echoing his words from high above the organ, flanking the gallery, John Dryden's (1687) "Song for Saint Cecilia's Day" exclaims:

From Harmony, From Heav'nly Harmony
This Universal Frame Began:
From Harmony to Harmony,
Through all the Compass of Notes it Ran.
The Diapason Closing Full in Man.

But Oh! What Art Can Teach,
What Human Voice Can Reach
The Sacred Organ's Praise?
Notes Inspiring Holy Love,
Notes that Wing Their Heav'nly Ways
to Mend the Choirs Above.

But Bright Cecilia Rais'd the Wonder Higher:
When to Her Organ Vocal Breath Was Given,
An Angel Heard, and Straight Appear'd-
Mistaking Earth for Heaven.

And heavenly it was.

Archbishop Lucas- The Installation Part I

2009-07-24T14:28:00.000-07:00

I had never attended a Eucharistic Liturgy in St. Cecilia Cathedral. Needless to say, Wednesday's installation could not have been a better first time! I've been to numerous events at St. Cecilia's but never a Mass. After receiving a ticket at the last moment for this closed-door event I was bursting with anticipation.

The day converged on perfection. The weather couldn't have behaved better for July in Nebraska- mild, slightly breezy and overcast, making the outdoor hors d'oeuvres and champagne reception exceedingly pleasant.

The Mass, however, was amazing. For those who love ceremony it offered a true feast. The Apostolic Nuncio to the United States, Archbishop Pietro Sambi officiated with Archbishop Emeritus Elden Curtiss at his side. The suffragan bishops of Nebraska sat close by as well. Cardinals Rigali and George attended along with over 40 US bishops and the abbot and retired abbot of Mt. Michael Abbey in the Archdiocese at Elkhorn. Numerous priests (ca. 250) from Omaha, Springfield, IL, St Louis, and other dioceses filled the front left quarter of the nave.

Following the lengthy procession into the cathedral, the rector, Fr. Gutgsell and the College of Consulters processed to the main door as Dr. Bauer played a solemn anonymous 16th century intabulation of Veni Creator with zimbelstern on the mean-tone stops. It was hair-raising.

Archbishop Emeritus Curtiss offered words of welcome and Archbishop Sambi subsequently read an English translation of the Holy Father's bull appointing Lucas to the Metropolitan See. A .pdf of the bull can be read here, BXVI Omaha Bull . Following the Consulters' inspection the Chancellor presented it to the entire congregation assembled.

Sambi and Curtiss then led Archbishop Lucas to the cathedra and seated him with his crozier. Following vigorous applause the choir sang Duruflé's ethereal Ubi Caritas as representatives of Archdiocesan associations and ethnic communities greeted their new Ordinary. The Mass thence proceeded customarily. One may see a program here: Lucas Installation Mass.

This liturgy validated everything I have heard about the high standards at St. Cecilia Cathedral. The ministers executed all the actions of this celebration with organic fluidity yet exacting precision. The wedding of sacrament, assembly, sound, and space was breathtaking.

Dr. Bauer designed a prelude program which highlighted the Church as Universal and thus fittingly prepared the assembly for the liturgy shortly to transpire.

The first component was offered in "Honor of the Church on Earth." It commenced with De Grigny's Plein Jeu from Veni Creator Spiritus- using the old mean-tone temperament, course! A composition from Dr. Bauer's pen followed this rousing French Baroque work. "Take My Life" couples a poignant poetic text of 1874 by Francis Havergal with a lyric choral setting accompanied by flute and organ. The theme of service and sacrifice was most appropriate. Palladium Brass rounded out this segment with an intabulation of Palestrina's Agnus Dei from Missa Sacerdos et Pontifex- again, how fitting!

"In Honor of the Church in Heaven" commenced with "O Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem" by the always gorgeous 20th century English composer Herbert Howells. Buxtehude's Nun lob, mein' Seel', den Herren followed- showcasing again, the Pasi organ's unique mean-tone capabilities.

Sections honoring Pope Benedict XVI, the BVM, and Our Lord, came next with Duruflé's Tu es Petrus (with the chant and brass arrangment as well), the ubiquitous Schubert Ave Maria, and Hassler's Cantate Domino, respectively. The prelude concluded as the brass declaimed Andrea Gabrieli's solemn "Ricercar on the Sixth Tone."

Highlights of the music at the Mass include John Ireland's apropos "Greater Love Hath No Man" at the Offertory and Henryk Gorecki's ever popular Totus Tuus after the communion hymn.

The hymns closely followed the texts of the liturgy- the choir chanted the proper Communio from Psalm 23 and then we all sang "The King of Love" and Theophane Hytrek's "I am the Good Shepherd." Another great example of engaging, well-planned liturgy.

Kudos to Dr. Bauer for steering a sterling program at Omaha's Cathedral. Good music that contributes to good liturgy is a gift that keeps on giving- in more than one way! American Catholic church musicians who wish to grow their programs should look to Omaha. It's amazing how many of the old excuses and obstacles fall away or diminish when a skilled, qualified, and magnanimous person takes the wheel.

In case it seems like my enthusiasm about all these details somehow lies tangent to some "proper," or rather, more dispassionate and cerebral concept of what matters in Liturgy, that is, Church, let me offer my summary of Archbishop Lucas' premier homily.

Continued...

Archbishop Lucas- The Vespers

2009-07-23T16:56:00.000-07:00

The last two days have been filled with local churchly celebrations of the highest order. Omaha has celebrated the coming of George J. Lucas, appointed Metropolitan Archbishop of Omaha by Pope Benedict XVI last month. As one staff member told me Monday, "the Cathedral is all abuzz."

Events began Tuesday evening July 21 at 7pm with Solemn Vespers in St. Cecilia Cathedral. I have mentioned it before, but I still intend to post copiously on this spectacular building. Constructed over several decades, it is a rare gem of pristine 20th century Spanish Renaissance Revival architecture perched high on a hill over mid-town Omaha. This cathedral, one of the nation's largest, received a thorough restoration for the Jubilee Year 2000. Many aspects of the architect's original design, henceforth unexecuted, were brought to fruition.

Tuesday's service hosted many of the archdiocesan permanent deacons and their families as well as civic authorities and leaders of the broader faith community including Orthodox, Protestant, Jewish, Muslim, and Hindu representatives.

I participated in the choir for Vespers. For having only two rehearsals things went remarkably well. Quite nearly the only snag arose from unavoidable environmental factors- the growing heat and humidity caused the organ's combination system to go a little 'haywire' and a couple reed stops only partially drew. The organist squelched the wheezy screech soon enough!

Obviously, as a musician, the balance of my focus was a little weighted- but I wasn't alone! Archbishop-designate Lucas made conspicuous mention of the choir and musicians in his homily. Indeed, for this event the time and place could not have been better. The reading for vespers of Tuesday, week IV, Colossians 3:16 reads: "Let the word of Christ, rich as it is, dwell in you. In wisdom made perfect, instruct and admonish one another. Sing gratefully to God from your hearts in psalms, hymns, and inspired songs." Lucas said that if Tuesday is representative he looks forward to realizing St. Paul's mandate in the future at the Cathedral.

St. Cecilia Cathedral has always given special attention to its music on account of its patroness. In 1985 the Cathedral Arts Project (CAP) was founded as a ministry to draw the whole creative person into the life of the Church. Through promoting and organizing visual art, musical programs, and cultural events the CAP seeks to emphasize the medieval spirit of cathedral as a place for all. http://www.cathedralartsproject.org/about.asp

In more recent years the St. Cecilia Schola Cantorum was founded under director Kevin Vogt (now working in Kansas City.) The Schola Cantorum is a rare organization in the Catholic United States and an invaluable asset to the Archdiocese. Today under the direction of Dr. Marie Rubis Bauer, its choirs provide music for cathedral parish and archdiocesan events. http://www.stceciliacathedral.org/music.htm

Furthermore, the Archdiocese operates the St. Cecilia Institute for Laity Formation on the Cathedral campus. The Institute offers classes and seminars on countless topics for people of all ages. http://www.archomaha.org/education/sci/index.html For the architecturally inclined there are wonderful opportunities- Brother William Woeger, FSC, Archdiocesan Director of Worship and renowned liturgical consultant offers excellent presentations. I speak from experience.

Back to Vespers...

There's nothing that underscores the sense of a living Church and vibrant liturgy like the creative act. For Tuesday's service the music included newly composed works as well as classics. Cathedral Music Director and Organist Marie Rubis Bauer wrote three new Psalm Antiphons which beautifully emphasize their texts yet maintain singability. (Organists have a knack for this!) The program has details: http://www.archomaha.org/newsevents/pdf/Installation%20vespers%20program%207-21-09.pdf

My favorite was the Magnificat Antiphon "Do great things for us, O Lord, for you are mighty, and holy is your name."Created to "sandwich" Kevin Vogt's "Magnificat on the Fifth Tone," Bauer's short duple meter setting made liberal use lively syncopations, silences, and augmented fourths. Vogt's similarly pungent "Magnificat" is equally memorable. Written for the 2003 dedication of the Noack Organ at St. Paul Seminary in St. Paul MN, the melodic line is written so well and engagedly that it's hard to notice the high 'f'! Everyone sang with gusto.

Embedded here is the choir of Visitation Church in Kansas City singing this piece. St. Cecilia's is a bigger space and we had a few more people so Dr. Bauer took a broader tempo. Nevertheless, this gives one an idea. Dr. Vogt's piece shows that it is possible to optimize our variables: to use traditional Catholic texts with new, yet singable lines. It's available from Morningstar.

We bookended vespers with "The Day You Gave Us, Lord, Is Ended" (ST CLEMENT) and "O God Our Help" (ST ANNE). The choir men sang Lloyd Pfautsch's "Seek to Serve" and the women did the chant Ave Maria as well as a Dvorak setting. The whole choir sang Hassler's Cantate Domino as well as the Palestrina Sicut Cervus. Dr. Bauer played the Adagio from Widor's Fifth and a Pachelbel An Wasserflüssen Babylon.

The only downer to the evening (and this happened to a lesser extent the next afternoon) was how loud people were during the preludes. Episcopalians would never make that much noise! Strangely enough, people hushed almost as soon as an Ave Maria began- both times! There must be something lodged deep within the Catholic psyche that begs silence for Marian piety- and little else. I was sad when we sang Sicut Cervus- no one could hear. If the Mona Lisa were a motet it would sound precious close to this.

It's not the musician in me so much that gripes but the minister: "The goal of all music ministry then, is not the comfort and entertainment of church goers, nor the decoration of rituals for asthetes, but the praise of God and the sanctification of all humanity, making it fit for the choir of heaven."- adapted from “An Apostolic Model of Music Ministry,” Kevin Vogt, DMA.

I also noticed that the Archdiocese seemed to roll out their new logo in conjunction with these events: a burnt orange silhouette of the cathedral over "Archdiocese of Omaha." The program itself was attractive as well. The interior front and back covers featured the same burnt orange with interlocking outlines of the cathedral's rose window.

All things considered, things were off to a most fitting start!

Praha Part III- Sacred Heart History

2009-07-21T21:42:00.000-07:00

In this post I give the story of one of Prague's most fascinating ecclesiastical structures.

In March 1914 St. Alois parishioners organized a church construction Association under the new pastor Rev. František Škarda. Almost from the start money posed a problem. The Archbishop's Consistory required proof of financing before any construction and the War years were especially difficult. At the outbreak of the War parishioners asked the Archbishop if they might rededicate their parish to the Sacred Heart. The Consistory approved the change.

Fr. Škarda, the vicar, the mayor of Vinohrady, and several architectural experts formed a jury which took 31 design proposals in October 1919.

Josip Plečnik (1872-1957), a Slovian born architect, offered a design which the committee rejected for being too costly. His second proposal of 1925 failed for the same reason. But the third time's the charm- the association accepted his 1927 proposal. Plečnik characteristically took classical iconic forms and added a personal twist- here, a rectangular Greco-Roman temple with a large tower as wide as the building over its middle. A large glass window and clock form the center of the tower.

Fundraising rapidly continued with collections, lectures, concerts, bazaars and theater productions. On 28 October 1928 the Archbishop dedicated the cornerstone with thousands present. Pius XI sent a congratulatory telegram.

And then nothing happened for a year. The government finally authorized construction 26 August 1929 and 60 workers labored tirelessly excavating and pouring foundations through the fall. The Archbishop gave a dispensation to work on Sunday 15 December but the frost soon came and concrete work halted.

1930 was the big year for building- by April 1930 the foundations were complete and excavations for the basement chapel done; May 1930 walls to 1 meter, delayed because granite arrives late; June 1930 walls to 5 meters; September 1930 walls complete and choir loft built; October 1930 the steel roof from Rainberg of Pardubice installed; November 1930 tower constructed.

The 1931 winter was long so plumbers and electricians worked indoors. Father Škarda proposed purchasing six bells from the Brno firm Manoušek for CZK 208,080. The city rejected this but in September 1931 a local man donated the bells.

On 15 November 1931 the workers installed the large window and clock in the tower. Through this time the Association stayed afloat through countless donations and bequests amounting to many hundreds of thousands of Crowns.

There were 13 bids for the construction of the main altar. Prastav was selected and the altar was installed 14 February 1932. The terrazzo floor and pews arrived shortly thereafter.

On 9 April 1932 the bells arrived and the vicar general dedicated them the next day:

1), "Holy Trinity", weight 3620 kg, 1775 mm bottom diameter, tone B0
2), Divine Heart of the Lord ", 1650 kg, 1487 mm, D1
3), Our Lady ", 970 kg, 1197 mm, F1
4), Holy Family, 750 kg, 1088 mm, G1
5), St. Jan Nepomucký ", 420 kg, 895 mm, B1
6), St. Joseph "and" Soul ", 40 kg, 440 mm, B2

Sculptures of the Sacred Heart and six Czech patrons (John of Nepomuk, Agnes, Vojtech, Wenceslaus, Ludmila, and Procopius) were commissioned from the sculptor Damián Pešan and cast in bronze by Charles Pešan. The Sacred Statue arrived in the spring of 1934 and the last of the others in November 1938.

By this time there was no money for an organ (big surprise!) so the old organ from the St. Alois chapel ws moved to the church in early May 1932.

Finally, on 8 May 1932 Archibishop Dr. Karel Kašpar dedicated Sacred Heart Church to much fanfare. He placed relics of Sts. Wenceslaus and Adalbert in the altar. The church, largely constructed by the contractor Nekvasil, cost CZK 4,711,865.44- about $4 million today.

The clock already had problems in 1933 and roof and gutter deficiencies addressed in 1935 put the organ again on the backburner. Though the church was dedicated many things remained unfinished- holy water fonts of dark Silesian marble by stonemason Jan Mrazek came in December 1938, art glass windows, and side altars.

Fr. Škarda approved a window proposal in January 1941 but the Archbishop's Consistory rejected it and declared a competition. Ultimately it chose the exact same artist, Karel Svolinsky. The windows arrived in 1944 but were kept in the basement during the War. Likewise, in March 1941 Fr. Škarda ordered side altars dedicated to Sts. Anthony of Padua and Therese of Lisieux from the architect Rothmayer and mason Mrazek. When they arrived he was unhappy and things weren't resolved until August 1942.

The War years were hard. On 27 March 1941 the occupying authorities confiscated all but the smallest bell. On 16 June 1942 the assistant priest Father Zamecnik was arrested by the Gestapo- a German woman in the neighborhood turned him in for not wearing his cross badge. He tried in vain to fight the allegations but was sent to Terezin and then Dachau where he died 22 November after being subjected to medical tests regarding artificial infection methods.

Father Škarda witnessed the arrest with horror and fortunately evaded it himself. He died 7 October 1942 at age 75, having guided the parish for over 25 years.

53 parishioners died in bombings in February 1945.

During the 50's the Communist government persecuted the priests, often removing, arresting, or pressing them into military work. Following the Prague Spring uprising of 1968 things began to gradually improve for the parish.

In 1991 three new bells were finally ordered from Manoušek.

Praha Part II- Kostel Nejsvětějšího Srdce Páně

2009-07-20T22:16:00.000-07:00

That's "Church of the Sacred Heart of Our Lord" in Prague 2, Vinohrady district. Our Czech translator had no concept of the English expression and both our tour guide and our director were not Catholic. Thus, "Holy Heart of Lord" (emphasis on no article or possessive pronoun) became the operative name.

We sang the Saturday Mass of anticipation last weekend at this one-of-a-kind church. I can't quite pinpoint it- Greco-Roman-Art-Deco? Could there be such a thing? When Frank Gehry visited he reportedly said, "I didn't realize that Mike Graves had already got ahead of me in Prague."I guess this was his way of saying "Wow, this is impressive." And it absolutely is- one doesn't see many buildings, especially churches like this from the 1920's. As our translator put it, "They thought he [the architect] was mad, a crazy man." Plenty of the kids did too.

The liturgy itself was interesting. We arrived at 5pm. Mass was at 6 and we had an hour guaranteed to warm up, tune the brass etc. I had even less time to acquaint myself with the button/knob/tab laden gameshow box of a console. Just when things started to click a loud voice pierced the silence at 5:30 sharp. Choristers and director looked around in confusion. It was the Rosary! And in case we didn't realize it, an elderly congregant stood up, wheeled around, and heckled us to make it clear. So much for preparation- or communication for that matter! Our liaison informed me, "the blind organist will arrive in the gallery one minute before the Mass to play the holy tunes." Great! In many ways it could have been the liturgy of a small Czech parish in Nebraska. All things considered, it went okay.

We had good fortune to be inside- apparently the building is only opened during Mass times. Because of this, the lights were also on. This gave the rare opportunity to get some decent inside shots. When we entered we came in the back through the sacristy. I was surprised by the amount of room behind the sanctuary. It felt spacious. (Little did I know, this was part of the radical design). Who would have thought?

The interior, composed largely of brick, makes for an interesting acoustic. Though the body of the church has a flat ceiling it is a large enough space that it still has a significant volume. Additionally, there was so little physical obstruction that the singing sounded about right to me. The brass players weren't fans. Personally, I've always been fascinated by the brick sound (e.g. Westminster Cathedral.)

It's hard to judge the organ simply because I can't say I ever quite figured it out. The church website gives some information about the organ (and extensive general parish history too- all of which generally informs these posts and was horrible to translate and work through!) http://www.srdcepane.cz/

The organ was built in 1936 by the Kutna Hora firm of Josef Mölzer. The console has four manuals and pedal though only three manuals were completed- the fourth was to be in the tower where the sound would filter through two windows over the altar. This division was planned to have 23 ranks. Today the whole instrument has 45 ranks with 3234 pipes.

I confess I don't know much at all about Czech organs. For that matter, I don't know that anyone does. Therefore, it's alarming to me that even the church website explains, and I paraphrase, "Melzer was known as a company to build cheap things, to use cheap materials. Problems arose quickly..." Yikes! Starting in the 1960's the organ went through several overhauls, rebuilds, extensions, and revisions by a couple builders. For most of 20 years it was unplayable but all was "well" by 1992.

Thus, the current specs are something like this:
Melzer, etc. 1936, etc.

Pedál
44. Principálbas 16’
45. Subbas 16’
46. Salicet bas 16’
47. Oktáv bas 8’
48. Flétna špičatá 8’
49.Chorál bas 4’
50. Mixtura (3x) 2 a 2/3’
51. Pozoun 16’

I. Manuál
16. Principál 16’
17. Principál 8’
18. Kryt 8’
19. Salicionál 8’
20. Oktáva 4’
21. Flétna trub. 4’
22. Superoktáva 2’
23. Mixtura (6x) 1 a 1/3’
24. Trompeta 8’

II. Manuál
2. Kryt 8’
3. Kvintadena 8’
4. Kopula 4’
5. Principál 4’
6. Roh lesní 2’
7. Kvinta 1 a 1/3’
8. Flétna syč. 1’
9. Cymbál (3x) 2/3’
10. Klarinet 8’

III. Manuál
30. Kryt 16’
31. Principál 8’
32. Flétna 8’
33. Vox angelika 8’+4’
34. Prestant 4’
35. Flétna příčná 4’
36. Nasard 2 a 2/3’
37. Flageolet 2’
38. Tercie 1 a 3/5’
39. Akuta (5x) 1’
40. Hoboj 8’

Couplers
12. III - II. 8 '
13. III - II. 4 '
14. III - II. 16 '
15. Vacant
25. I. - I 4 '
26. II. - I. 8 '
27. III. - I. 8 '
28. III. - I 4 '
29. III. - I. 16 '
42. III. - III. 4 '
43. III. - III. 16 '
52. P - I 8 '
53. P - II. 8 '
54. P - II. 4 '
55. P - III. 8 '
56. P - III. 4 '

Auxiliary equipment
1. Power hand records
11. Tremolo II.
41. III Tremolo.
Switch language
Free combination of 1
Free combination of 2
Loose 3 combinations
Free combination of 4
Power
Pleno
Tutti
Power crescendo
Switch connectors from cerescenda
Aut. ped. (a combination of pedal)
Crescendový cylinder
Blinds III. man.
Indicator War
Indicator blinds

And so, hooray! I found the Wicks of Communist Czechoslovakia! What to do? I just played a Dupré piece with lots of woofy 16, 8, and 4 and called it a day.

The best part of the organ were the many decorative lightbulbs which ornamented the sleek case below the facade pipes. It reminded me of St. Francis Church in Humphrey, Nebraska!

The architecture, however, will blow your socks off...

Praha Part I- Metal Babies in "Royal Vineyards"

2009-07-20T21:51:00.000-07:00

On my most recent European adventure (accompanying a student choir) we dipped into the Czech Republic for a couple days. Being of 50% Czech extraction I looked forward to this opportunity with typical Bohemian reverence. Even though we had only time to visit touristy parts of Prague (I wouldn’t mind spending a couple days in Plzeň!) it offered something new for this traveler.

The Charles Bridge was crowded, St. Vitus Cathedral filled with “a million babbling yahoos,” and the town square full of sketchy people dressed like leprechauns advertising free booze at a party (a.k.a. be ready to part with a kidney!) It was pleasant but I found the most curious aspect of Prague to be off the beaten path.

From the Prague Castle one can look far across the old city and up the hill rising beyond the Vltava River. At the pinnacle of the hill is a giant telecom tower- the Žižkov Television Tower, a massive, 709 foot communist structure built between 1985 and 1992.

Though Žižkov Tower has a restaurant (and food is particularly tasty in Prague) and an observation deck affording an impressive view its Communist nativity and strikingly modernistic, skyline rupturing design has caused many locals to despise it.

Look closely!

Naturally, someone thought to beautify this functional steel eyesore. Thus, in 2000 David Černý, an artist who has tempted even Europeans to censorship, created giant, crawling, metal babies and affixed them to the tower. They came down but because of popular admiration crawled back up in 2001.

A little context to appreciate the humor here: I live in a city where people bitch about the expense and impracticality of any civic art or beautification (i.e. sculptures of stylized bikes along bike trails- difficult concept, eh?) Imagine how the high school kids reacted when they saw 1800 pound, 10 foot infantile masses of metal swarming a TV tower!

Moving on.

The district around Žižkov is called Vinohrady, until 1968 Královské Vinohrady- “Royal Vineyards.” The name comes from the 14^th century when Charles IV planted vineyards in this hilly area outside of Prague. To this day a city park nearby contains an active vineyard! In the 18^th century large gardens filled the area.

Vinohrady experienced rapid growth through the 19^th century. In 1849 it became an independent community, in 1879, a city. The population was estimated at 15,000 in 1880 and more than doubled (34,500) by the next decade.

To permanently serve the needs of community members St. Ludmila parish was established in 1893- two mission chapels were not enough! (This is a striking neo-gothic edifice.) Though this was a step in the right direction the population rose to 50,000 by 1900. This 90% Catholic community needed a new church!

On 2 December 1908 the City of Královské Vinohrady donated land in Jiřího z Poděbrad- “George of Poděbrady Square” for a new church. Though the city council made the real estate selection quite carefully a number of radicals protested and the commitment was litigated for a number of years. Not until 1928 was it set in stone- literally!

Meanwhile, St. Alois Parish was established on 1 January 1914 and operated out of a new school building and its chapel on the north side of the Square. This small and inadequate chapel held Mass and services until 1932!

Construction and details of the church (subsequently rededicated to the Sacred Heart) are traced in a forthcoming post.

As for the neighborhood…Vinohrady was annexed to Prague in 1922. Because of its politically involved, upper-middle class residents the Post-War Communist government split it into three districts in 1949.

Today Vinohrady attracts renown for its wealth of 19^th and early 20^th century architecture. (St. Ludmila pictured).

Google images: crawling babies zizkov. It may disturb you.

More Fresh Air for Nebraska

2009-07-19T18:04:00.000-07:00

...Not that we're ravaged by much smog of any kind, George Lucas looks like a good deal by all accounts.

Nebraska has three dioceses: Omaha, Grand Island, and Lincoln. Omaha I love, Grand Island I feel badly for every now and then, and Lincoln (to put this carefully) is like nowhere else.

Lincolnites have a distinctive pride in their diocese and its self-branded orthodoxy. Being a college student in Nebraska I've heard more than my fair share of propaganda from enthusiastic folks regarding their home diocese.

Quite often, whether it's from Omaha natives, out-of-state students, etc. I get a positive vibe (i.e. "Yay, Springfield-Cape Girardeau!") Lincolnites, likewise, have no shortage of praise for their local ordinary and his policies. This is fine...but it never stops here. Unfortunately, it seems like there's always a jab for the stinger (i.e. "I once went to a Mass in Omaha where the priest denied the Real Presence/necessity of Baptism/Papal authority, etc.)

Great! I guess I'm glad that all's well "south of the Platte..." because, really, we all know that's what really matters in the Church. We can only pray for those besieged heathens in liberal Omaha. But I digress...

My serious question is: why do Lincolnites feel it is necessary to degrade other bishops to praise their own? I can understand the temptation- the rhetoric of orthodoxy, the danger of rogue bishops making scandalous decisions, standing up for the Truth- truth as one perceives it. This is all quite valid but it is a hand too frequently played and a problem increasingly rare. It's like 8 year olds and sand castles: 'mine' isn't quite good until I've pointed out that yours is 'bad.' Seriously?

Perhaps its time to consider the flip side of the coin: We are One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church. In a time when the Church is beset by many external and institutional foes it seems most imperative to cut the infighting, to grow our sense of solidarity, to underscore the Universal. For every Mother Angelica who righteously castigates a Cardinal Mahoney on National TV there's also the sticky corresponding reality of the Pope who appointed him. That is to say, the reality of his Apostolic authority.

To me these criticisms are costly- read the footnotes, literal or proverbial, before calling a bishop a heretic and what else. Concede that there is room in our Church for many types of leaders- hard headed ones, bold ones, analytical ones, pensive ones, unconventional ones, dreaming ones, and gentle shepherds too. Because one's presentation of the issues is different than another is not cause for alarm but wonder- In what other Church is there room for so much diversity?

This week I celebrate Archbishop George Lucas. Maybe some Omaha priests have spoken out of line in the past- maybe my peers weren't merely telling tales. Even if these stories were true I can only trust the new Archbishop will do his job- and do it well. In fact, I must trust and do so with full hope. This preposterous and unconditional hope (even in the face of so many questions and challenges) has the paradoxical effect of keeping the Church "ever ancient, ever new." This is nothing less than the Catholic ethos. The Holy Spirit has spoken. Let us come together and rejoice!

It is marvelous to behold and we will sing accordingly: Sacerdos et Pontifex...pastor bone in populo!

http://www.omaha.com/article/20090719/NEWS01/707199956/1009

Stairway to Heaven

2009-07-18T15:37:00.001-07:00

Last May I had a busy organistic Saturday in Paris. In the afternoon Suzanne Chaisemartin gave a recital at St. Paul-St. Louis. It was remarkable to hear one of Marcel Dupré's last students and an octogenarian, no less, play so well. Pierre Cogen sat across the aisle- this made it no less exciting!

From Le Marais I hopped on Line 1 and made my way to La Madeleine. I met François-Henri Houbart, the titular organist. We mounted the tribune and he played Dupré for the Mass of anticipation- that is, his teacher's teacher (Mme. Chaisemartin, being his teacher.)

After Sortie, the angsty and powerful "Amen" toccata from "Vêpres de la Vierge- 15 Pieces," (complete with the chamades!) M. Houbart, the sacristan, and I all simultaneously declared our hunger and set off across the plaza for dinner.

We were joined by a colleague of M. Houbart, M. Frédéric Blanc, titular organist of Notre-Dame d'Auteuil in the 16eme. I immediately recognized his name because he was giving the afternoon recital at Notre Dame de Paris the very next afternoon. M. Blanc invited me to visit Auteuil on Monday when the the recital would be behind him (understandably so- it was phenomenal, especially the improvisation).

To make a long story somewhat shorter, M. Blanc was the last student and disciple of Mme. Marie Madeleine Duruflé-Chevalier. For a number of reasons M. Blanc inherited the Duruflé couple's personal effects and apartment. Today he heads the Duruflé Association http://www.france-orgue.fr/durufle/ and is a dedicated ambassador of their legacy.

Unknown to me at that time, he asked, "would you like to see where M. Duruflé lived?" I said "Yes! You know where this is?" He grinned, "I live there."

6, place du Panthéon is about 8 stories and a typically Parisian building. There are many luxurious apartments and a beautiful lobby- but this is not our entrance. Through a small and unassuming passageway one approaches the stairs traversed thousands of times by one of the 20th century's musical masters.

Maurice Duruflé became titular organist of St. Etienne du Mont in 1929. Looking for a place to live he found this apartment across the square. A wealthy butcher's wife from Les Halles owned the building and her aspiring artist son occupied the small studio residence on top. When things went south he left and Mme., the landlady, offered it fairly cheaply on account of its size. M. Duruflé moved in and stayed nearly his entire life.

For respect of his privacy I do not have photos of the interior. This is alright because the best part belongs to everyone. The view, at the level of the towers of Notre Dame, allows one to panoramically survey the enormous and breathtaking entirety of the city. At night it is most stunning. In this place, one can understand how Requiem came to life, how the Messe cum Jubilo was born, the Quatre Motets- not to mention the organ works. The surreal surroundings drove Duruflé's already demanding standards of himself to such exclusive heights that his few extant works near perfection.

The first time I heard Duruflé I was bewitched with it- with its undulating rhythmic propulsion, its seemingly timeless metrical ambiguity, its refined post-impressionistic color, its nostalgic modal harmony, its religious passion. M. Blanc grabbed an old score of Andante et Scherzo, Op. 8 and we listened to a recording. My eyes followed the dancing notes, intermingled with pencil markings. In the upper right corner of the cover the owner's name was penciled like many scores. Needless to say, this one was different!

Absolutely everything danced. In a word, it was heavenly.

The Ignominous Tyburn Tree- Still the Shame?

2009-07-18T12:59:00.000-07:00

I have been busy- so busy, in fact, I forget to post! Months later I tell myself "better late than never." So here I continue...

In May I embarked upon another European expedition. While in London my travel companion and I met a friend who was also in town. We were on our way home via Heathrow and she was on her way to the continent. So, for a couple days we wandered around London and did nerdy musical things like hop from one Choral Evensong to another, buy hymnals, and see the Handel House.

Among the more interesting and obscure things we did was explore the history of Tyburn. Located roughly at the corner of Hyde Park near Marble Arch tube stop, Tyburn was, at one time, a village in Middlesex. London long ago engulfed it. Tyburn is most famous/infamous for being an execution site for Londoners from 1196 to 1783.

In 1571 authorities erected the "Tyburn Tree"- a strange gallows with a horizontal triangle on three legs. (It resembled a three-legged stool). In addition to the many thieves, murderers, and conventional political criminals executed at the "Triple Tree" were 105 Roman Catholic priests or people who assisted them, notably Sts. Edmund Campion SJ, and Oliver Plunkett.

Many of these religious offenders weren't merely hung- they were "hung, drawn, and quartered," that is, hung until nearly dead, cut down, sliced open, and entrails torn out. Absolutely gruesome.

Nearby, today, stands Tyburn Convent. http://www.tyburnconvent.org.uk/home/index.html
Benedictine nuns from Montmartre fleeing the French secularization of 1901 established this house and to this day it dedicates itself to spreading the memory of the English Martyrs who died at Tyburn just meters away.

In the basement of the convent (rebuilt after destruction in the Blitz) we explored a fascinating museum about this period of English history. Displays included many relics and a smaller scale replica of the "Tyburn Tree."

We had a wonderful guide, Sister N-, who provided us with a number of interesting facts. Particularly, the Marble Arch tube stop was supposed to be a bit further west than it is today. Crews had to stop digging in the first location because the area was thick with human bones- no doubt the countless bodies of those cut down from the "deadly never green Tyburn Tree." (One never thinks what's all around whilst riding about the Tube!)

Sister also told us where we might find a small plaque in the middle of a pedestrian traffic island which marks the location of the gallows. Understandably, she thought it was a scandal that so little and obscure a memorial commemorates this place. She chalked it up to shame, even today.

Which got me thinking...
Why would the government make a point of marking this? Many English people today (and hardly practicing, nominally Anglican ones!) can tell as a point of cultural pride about the Dissolution of the Monasteries, the temporal meddling and corruption in the Reformation era, foreign, Roman Church. Sadly, much of this is absolutely true- but it hardly justifies the deaths of those many priests. These were not miserly corrupt abbots but missionaries who wanted nothing but to be both good Englishmen and good Catholics, living the Gospel. Many were charged with incredulous plots of treason and convicted by kangaroo courts on false evidence.

To this end, I would be embarrassed. Indeed, the laws have long ago changed, the Roman dioceses reestablished, and Roman Catholics are now the practicing majority in England. And yet, the C of E is still the state religion, however meaningless this may be. Thus, I don't think this tiny plaque comes from "shame" but, at worst, some wildly stretched and stubborn desire to stick to ones' guns- which I don't suggest is any more noble in this case. (If anything this is a battle lost. Remember, this is the Church which now venerates St. Thomas More!)

On the other hand, perhaps the 21st century post-industrial, post-modern, post-everything UK, with as much historical myopia as any other Western country, simply forgot this place. To me, this seems far more likely an explanation than "shame," though depressingly benign.

T.S. Eliot wrote regarding the martyrdom of Thomas Becket: "Wherever a saint has dwelt, wherever a martyr has given his blood for Christ, there is holy ground, and the sanctity shall not depart from it." With Becket this is easy to see- there was a church, then and now. Tyburn is different. Standing in the grey drizzle on a traffic island at the confluence of Edgeware Rd, and Oxford Street, surrounded by a swarm of traffic, it's undeniably a strange kind of shrine.

Yet, I thought the plaque worked well- It seems so appropriate and like in kind to the humility of those who died there. As with so most places, this crosswalk seems an odd place for sanctity!

Würzburg, Part IV— The Cathedral 1945 - 2008

2008-12-23T17:21:00.001-08:00

…And then 1945.

On the night of 16 March 1945 226 Lancaster Bombers of the RAF reduced this magnificent house of God to rubble in 17 minutes. The medieval city center was engulfed in a firestorm which killed 5000 people in as much time. 90% of the city smoldered in ruins. Fortunately, some artwork was preserved— the bell of 1257 which was moved into the crypt, St. Kilian’s Book of Gospels which he brought from Ireland nearly 1300 years before (housed in the University Library) etc. Proportionately, Würzburg was more completely destroyed than Dresden to the east.

In another sickening twist of fate a month later…much of the state and ecclesiastical archives were moved for safekeeping to the castle at Wässerndorf (next to Seinsheim) in the country. Among other things, prosperous segments of the Diocese of Würzburg had kept exquisite and thorough sacramental records dating back to the beginning of the 16^th century— exceptionally rare considering the Council of Trent did not mandate this practice until decades later that century. Following the death of an American officer USAF P-47 Thunderbolts firebombed the area and ground troops torched the castle on 5 April 1945. The building burned for days and most records were lost.

In the winter of 1946 most of the remaining sections of the Kiliansdom collapsed. Over the next two decades countless Trümmerfrauen (‘Rubble-women’) carefully rebuilt and replicated much of the historical city.

There were three reconstruction proposals for the cathedral. The winning bid was taken in 1960 and the building was completed in 1967 incorporating what it could of the previous structure. A splendid historically-informed organ by Klais arrived in the gallery in 1969.

The choir was set up as the presbytery, and the cathedra relocated in the apse. The remaining stucco was preserved and renovated, while the flat nave ceiling received modern painting by Fritz Nagel. A bulk of the responsibility and decision making for this courageous and pioneering design came from Bishop Julius Döpfner and builder Hans Schädel. And, finally…the main altar was relocated to the crossing!

As mentioned above, one bell survived WWII— the Lobdeburg bell of 1257. The others melted. In 1965 eleven new bells were cast by Schilling of Heidelberg. The largest bell at nine tons is aptly inscribed: “JESV CHRISTE - SALVATOR MVNDI VENI CVM PACE - ANNO DOMINI MCMLXV” (Jesus Christ - Savior of the world, come in peace - In the year of our Lord 1965). Since 2000 the bells have been controlled by a computerized system.

The last couple decades have seen some additional work: in 1987 Hubert Elsässer added paintings depicting the history of the Faith in Franconia and in 2006 a new bright exterior painting brought the exterior closer to its original color. The cathedral is today a unique mix of Romanesque, Baroque, and Modern elements.

2008 saw the 160^th anniversary of the German Bishop’s Conference which first met in Würzburg in 1848 and quite appropriately reconvened there this year. On Monday 12 February more than 70 cardinals, archbishops, and bishops came together for Mass with Karl Cardinal Lehmann in the Kiliansdom. The outgoing Cardinal Chairman offered high praise for the diocese: "Wurzburg is a good place and a home for the Church in our country."

Also this spring eight new bells from the Rudolf Perner foundry of Passau were added, brining the total to 20. The Kiliansdom presently has the largest peal in Germany. It was dedicated on 22 May, this year. Check out this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eveLP_-_KIA

Würzburg, Part III— The Cathedral 743 - 1945

2008-12-22T14:08:00.000-08:00

Würzburg’s Kiliansdom stands as a lesson in stone— just leave buildings alone, even if you don’t like them. Architectural styles come and go and one often becomes the whipping-boy of the next. In the end, however, a building is a representation of its era. There is no timeless style. Architecture is temporal; it exists in time because it is physical. Having an intact structure as a humanistic record (if not a theological one as well) is far better than well-intended ‘wreck-o-vations’ or just plain out smoldering wrecks. This seems hard for some people to grasp in the US— we have had the luxury of stability and the good fortune of a relatively small span of Western heritage to preserve (a few hundred years on the coasts/southwest and much less for the rest of us). Our complicit lethargy engenders foolish quibbling. A brief turn about Dresden, London, Coventry, etc. anytime in the last 60 years will get one’s priorities in order! http://www.dom-wuerzburg.de/

Bishop Burkhard established the first provisional Cathedral of Würzburg at the preexisting Marienburg Church in 743. The first purpose-built cathedral followed four decades later. Bishop Berowelf (episcop. 769 - 800) dedicated the new Cathedral of Christus Salvator in the presence of Charlemagne in 788. The bones of the three city patrons, martyred 100 years before and venerated since papal approval in 752 (when they were found buried in a stable), were moved to the new church.

This Frankish structure was renowned for its size, much like Köln later. Sadly, on 5 June 855 a lightning strike burned down most of the building and a storm three days later caused the remaining walls to collapse. Bishop Arn (855 - 892) built a third cathedral which burned again in 918. This time the fire destroyed numerous liturgical artifacts and documents. Between 855 and 1045 this Carolingian church was redesigned several times.

Under Bishop Bruno (1034 - 1045) the cathedral was redone in 1040 using older parts. Inspired by the work at the Speyer Cathedral the expansion plans included a pair of towers flanking the choir, a reconstruction of the transept, and the building of a larger nave with square twin-towers in the west front as well as a triangular pediment between. Bruno died as a result of an accident at a dinner party during the time of the construction on the choir. He was later canonized.

The crypt was consecrated simultaneous with Bruno’s burial by Bardo, Archbishop of Mainz on 16 June 1045. Bruno's successor Adalbero continued construction until completion 1075. Due to its external dimensions and superb architectural quality the new Cathedral of St. Kilian was one of the most impressive monuments of the time. This Bruno-Adalbero cathedral retained mere fragments of the older church— two of the capitals from the portals were removed to the crypt.

Bishop Embricho (1127 - 1146) charged master builder Enzelin in 1133 to "restore and beautify" the cathedral— especially the roof which was "almost in ruins" (always a problem in big buildings)! Besides the restoration work he extended the west towers and transformed the choir adding vaulted spans which were still preserved under the 18th Century stucco.

Bishop Gottfried von Spitzenberg (1186 - 1190) had three altars built in 1188. Each served a different purpose and effected liturgical segregation. During the high Mass with choir they used main altar; during parish level celebrations they used their own altar. This practice persisted for centuries!

In 1225 Bishop Hermann von Lobdeburg (1225 - 1254) remodeled the eastern section— notably completing a central dome. By 1250 Würzburg’s Cathedral took its final shape.

At 105 meters this building was the fourth largest Romanesque structure in Germany; a masterpiece of Salian architecture.

If the Kiliansdom represented the Romanesque well then it was high time for Gothic! In 1500 the aisles were transformed with rib vaulting with elaborate caps. The middle pediment between the towers of the western front was heightened and crowned in 1507 with a dainty clock.

During the Counter-Reformation in 1610 the city council commissioned Michael Kern to build an elaborate pulpit on southern side of the nave. Under Prince-Bishop Johann Gottfried von Aschhausen (1617 – 1623) the rood screen was removed in 1619.

Then came the Baroque craze in 1701! Previous renovations were nothing compared to this. Prince-Bishop Johann Philipp von Greiffenclau (1699 – 1718) approved several proposals from the Milan-born plasterer and architect Pietro Magno. Michael Rieß and Johann Balthasar engaged numerous renowned artists and craftsmen to the task. They moved the choir from the crossing to the east end and crowned the altar with a wide and rich golden baldachin. The picture is a 1731 proposal by J.L. von Hildebrand. Good Lord!

Between 1879 and 1883 Friedrich Friedreich oversaw a Neo-Romanesque overhaul of the façade, focusing on the gable, pediment, and portals. The photo here comes from a postcard of 1904.

Würzburg, Part II— Some Notable Figures

2008-12-22T12:46:00.000-08:00

Shortly after St. Burchard/Burkard arrived in 741, Karlmann, the Frankish mayor of the palace, bequeathed a large amount of land to the diocese. The bishops dutifully continued to push for Christianizing Saxony. The nobles, in turn, showered them with real estate and free residence at the Marienburg fortress over the city.

By the early 750’s Würzburg’s bishops were well on their way to wielding great secular power in their own right! Indeed they would be Fürst-bischof or “Prince-bishop” over a growing swatch of land until the secularization of 1803. Through the Middle Ages and Renaissance numerous bishops saw great players in the arts and humanities in their town— Albertus Magnus, O.P., the philosopher; Mathias Grünenwald, the painter; etc. For centuries the Würzburg bishopric was a state of the Franconian Circle, an Imperial Circle of the Holy Roman Empire. The University was founded in 1402— one of the oldest in German speaking lands. Unfortunately it initially floundered because of financial and cultural instability. (Those humanists!) Johannes Trithemius, abbot of a local monastery, wrote in 1506 that the failure was due to "bathing, love, brawling, gambling, inebriation, squabbling and general pandemonium [which was] ...'greatly impeding the academic achievement in Würzburg.'" And who said collegiate rowdiness came with the sexual revolution of the 1960's? Apparently good hygiene is the real culprit. Oh, and in 1423 a student's assistant fatally stabbed the first Chancellor Johann Zantfurt.

Perhaps Würzburg’s most famous residents/prelates were the Schönborn family (as in Christoph Cardinal Schönborn, present Archbishop of Vienna). In the 17^th and 18^th centuries Würzburg had three Schönborn bishops. Most notably two brothers/bishops, Johann Philipp Franz and Friedrich Karl von Schönborn, oversaw the construction of the indulgent Würzburg Residenz between 1720 and 1744. Architects Johann Lukas von Hildebrandt and Maximilian von Welsch designed this new palace for the bishops. Balthasar Neumann created the famous Baroque staircase. Its Hofkirche and stairwell frescoes (the largest in the world) by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo shine as some of the most opulent (nearly grotesque!) examples of rococo one can find! Quite appropriately this structure sits on the UNESCO World Heritage Site roster. http://www.residenz-wuerzburg.de/englisch/residenz/index.htm

18^th Century bishop Adam Friedrich von Seinsheim (episcop. 1755-1779) oversaw major redesign of the Residenz palace gardens— as well as work on landscaping at his suffragan see and subsidiary residence at Bamberg to the east. Von Seinsheim was from an old noble family that, as the name suggests, traced its roots to nearby market town of Seinsheim (my family’s home) with one Erkinger who died in 917. Of course, as these things go, Adam Friedrich’s mother was a Schönborn. This made the Schönborn bishops his uncles.

The Von Seinsheim family itself has died out in 1917 but it persists in one branch— the House of Schwarzenberg. The Schwarzenberg’s had significant fiefdoms in Bohemia and owned a number of palaces, notably the Palais Schwarzenberg in Vienna. Construction on this marvelous baroque structure began in 1697 and it is now a hotel— owned by the family, of course!

More recently, and more secularly, Wilhelm Röntgen, discovered X-rays at the University of Würzburg in 1895.

Würzburg, Part I— The Church in Unterfranken

2008-12-18T17:17:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows Berlin. Everyone knows Frankfurt. Everyone knows Köln. What about Würzburg? I certainly had a vested interested in acquainting myself with this locale as my family was only a few kilometers away laying bricks for God-knows-how-many centuries! Despite my personal interest (or anyone’s) it always seems that in the small world of European political and cultural cross-pollination everything is connected, every place has played a part.

This spot in the world came under the Roman influence when Winfrid of Crediton (St. Boniface) was still a wee lad over in Wessex. Details are scarce, but apparently St. Kilian, the patron of the diocese to this day, was born around 640 in Ireland or Scotland. Like many monks of the British Isles during the early middle ages he (and 11 companions) soon left to convert, ‘civilize,’ teach etc. on the continent. Thus in the 680’s he crossed over to Gaul, passed over the Rhine, and made his way up the Main valley ending up at the castle of Thuringian (Frankish) Duke Gozbert— pagan, of course.

After hanging around Gozbert for a while he decided to head to Rome in the summer of 686 to get some paperwork from the Pope to make his missionary status ‘official.’ When he returned after obtaining his faculties (he was a “regional bishop,” something like a vicar apostolic on the American frontier) his posse had thinned out and he was left with two companions: a priest Coloman, and a deacon Totnan.

Kilian converted Gozbert and soon spread Christianity with missionary zeal over Franconia (modern Northern Bavaria) and Thuringia just to the north. There was one problem, however— Gozbert’s wife Geilana was his brother’s widow. Kilian convinced the Duke that he ought to separate but the Duchess was not a fan. Again, the facts are nebulous, but on or around 8 July 689, when Gozbert was away, Geilana had the three missionaries murdered. (The earliest full scholarly exploration of St. Kilian is Der heilige Kilian, Regionarbischof u. Martyrer. Franz Emmerich. Würzburg, 1896).

But alas, they had already become a Christian family! Gozbert’s son Hetan built a church dedicated to Mary at the castle and thus the fortress was thereafter called Marienburg. In 704 we see for the first time the Latin designation Castellum Virtebuch for the city on the River Main below the fortress— the earliest presence of the name which has become Würzburg.

Now enters Winfrid, our more famous apostle to the Germans. Needless to say, he was caught in the midst of a political dynamic quite unlike his predecessor! Winfrid went to Rome in 718 where Pope Gregory II gave him the new name Bonifacius and sent him back north the following year, 719. Boniface noticed the residual influence of Kilian in Thuringia as he worked there as well as in Frisia and Hesse in the years following 719. In November 722 he moved up the ranks again as Pope Gregory II appointed him Bishop of the German lands.

Beginning in 723, Boniface came under the protection of Charles Martel and the Carolingians. This Frankish dynasty wanted to defeat their rival, pagan Saxons. When Boniface was made Archbishop of all German lands in 732 his clout and immense experience throughout the area over nearly 20 years became an asset for the Frankish nobles— though he personally had little to gain from this alliance. Nevertheless, his contemporary Daniel of Winchester pointed out that Boniface could “neither administer his church, defend his clergy, nor prevent idolatry” without his political protectors.

Not surprisingly, Charles Martel set to work establishing dioceses throughout Bavaria in the late 730s— Regensburg, Freising, Passau. They would surround and subdue the Saxons with political structure and Roman ecclesiastical order (perhaps inseparable then)!

Boniface himself received the Metropolitan see of Mainz in 745. As the Franks divided the land further into bishoprics moving north they allowed Boniface relative freedom in recommending/selecting his own bishops— so long as they would continue to push Christianity and be Frank-friendly vis à vis anti-Pagan Saxon. And so it was, no later than the summer of 741, that Boniface consecrated his friend and fellow-Englishman, Burchard as first Bishop of Würzburg. The red-tape was cleared and Pope Zachary confirmed the appointment and foundation of the diocese in a letter of 1 April 743.

87 bishops have followed down to the present day.

21 November- A Story for Today

2008-11-21T00:59:00.000-08:00

Driving home from Lawrence I passed through the rolling hills of northeastern Kansas. Contrary to images conjured up by “Wizard of Oz” beautiful broken hills constitute much of the state. Moving towards the Missouri River, patches of timber and outcroppings of limestone peak through the soil. Ages of water racing to the sea carved out craggy bluffs which hover over the wide river. On a fine fall day it makes for a picturesque drive.

The human geography in that neck if the woods is no less interesting. The entire Missouri valley was long frequented by French Fur Trappers, and their ‘Half-Breed’ families. Many of the oldest towns in the area came out of this business— St. Joseph, MO was founded by Joseph Robidoux in 1843. The WASP settlers came in the 1850s. Bordering a slave state, plenty of conflict inevitably erupted. Atchison briefly had a pro-slavery newspaper. Bordering Missouri counties were hotbeds for Confederate sympathy before and after the war (including Jesse James’ family). German Benedictine Monks established an abbey in Atchison in 1857 and ministered to Irish immigrants. Then Germans came too.

By the time my family showed up Atchison County was long settled. I thought about these folks today as this is the 126^th anniversary of their marriage. Both came from relatively unusual circumstances…at least considering our contemporary stereotypes of period values. We pine for the ‘good old days’. We do it a lot— especially concerning religion, family values, welfare, patriotism, immigration, etc. Today seems an appropriate time to reflect.

Joseph Emmerich was born in a small but historically significant Bavarian village in August 1855. Though Seinsheim sits in a fertile wine growing region he and his forebears were traditionally stonemasons and bricklayers. According to tradition they participated in the renovation of the large medieval cathedral of Würzburg nearby. (Seinsheim had excellent records extending back to the early 1500’s but, sadly, everything was destroyed when the USAF firebombed the area at the end of WWII).

When Joseph was 17 his family got wind of a forthcoming military appointment. So, naturally, he booked it for America in 1872. Tradition has it that our draft-dodger was a stowaway. Sure enough he shows up on no ships’ lists. Interestingly, one “Josef Emerich” does appear but that one appears to be Jewish— hardly helping the ‘mainstream’ argument. (I do, nevertheless, suspect Semitic roots in this branch, however, from other sources… but I digress).

Joseph drops off the map until 1880 when he surfaces in rural Atchison County, KS near Effingham. His father and siblings came over and joined him. They worked as stonemasons around small commercial quarry operations. One source hints that Joseph lived in Missouri prior to settling in Kansas. It was there that I suspect he met his wife…which brings me to Louise.

Louise Breitenwischer was born in March 1862 in Carondelet, MO, a bustling river town immediately to the south of St Louis. When she was born there were slaveholders in the neighborhood. By the time she died 90 years later we had atomic weapons and neon lights. She reportedly didn’t talk much about her family during her long life. I can understand why. Louise was illegitimate— her father a German Lutheran and a severe alcoholic, her mother French Catholic.

To be fair her grandmother was also born to a single mom. The village moral authority of 1815 could not have looked kindly upon “inconnu” or “unknown” scribbled in under “father’s name”! The great-grandmother in turn was born in exile— their family dislodged from their Rhenish border-town by Austrian troops coming to the aid of Monarchists during the Reign of Terror in the 1790s. It was not easy for them.

Within a five year range of 1882 things looked pretty bad for Louise. Both her parents, her remaining grandparents, and most of her aunts and uncles all died from alcoholism, alcohol related accidents or tuberculosis. The City of St Louis had annexed Carondelet and the family home was now wedged between the Mississippi, a shipyard, RR, and a sewage ditch which drained most of the city.

But there’s no hand up like a “hand-out.” Louise’s brother Frederick had saved $500— a handsome sum for 1882. He gave her the money so she would have a chance to get out, get married, and have a good life. (As an aside, Fred and his family came out alright— this particular anecdote was passed to me by a descendant, a daughter of one Busch Stadium organist and her husband a certain Cardinals player/Hall of Fame broadcaster).

And so it was that Louise got on a boat in the fall of 1882. It wound its way over 300 miles up the Missouri to Atchison, KS. Shortly thereafter Joseph Emmerich and Louise Breitenwischer were married 21 November 1882 at St. Ann’s in Effingham.

They had two kids, one of whom was my great-grandfather. Joseph held numerous jobs from mason, to restaurant proprietor, to shoe repairman, to farmer. He did well enough to sit on the building committee for the new Catholic Church in Effingham in 1896. Sadly, that building was destroyed fire (suspected arson) in April 2008.

I didn’t go through Effingham on my way home from Lawrence. However, as I passed though the Missouri Valley I thought a great deal about all the life and stories those hills have witnessed. God Bless them all.

Chant and Doing Things the 'Right Way'

2008-11-18T19:34:00.000-08:00

Last week I attended “Windows on Chant” at Kansas University. The Division of Organ and Church Music at KU http://www2.ku.edu/~organ/ hosts an annual thematic conference in the fall. This year’s gathering centered around the theory, history, and practice of Chant.

Drs. Michael Bauer and James Higdon put together a splendid program (as solid as the department over which they preside!) Two ‘heavy-hitter’ presenters took us through our time together. Fr. Anthony Ruff OSB lectured on the history of Chant, its revival and semiology and Susan Ferré addressed the practical component from a keyboard (organ) perspective.

It would have been difficult to find a more qualified American scholar of Chant than Fr. Ruff. He brings a bounty of experience and scholarship to the table— ranging from his life as a Benedictine to his Doctoral studies in the heart of the German semiological school at Graz. By all accounts his book Sacred Music and Liturgical Reform is a sober, formidable, and long-awaited balanced breath of fresh air (for the Catholic world).

The conference was well attended and Fr. Ruff pointed out that these days most Chant seminars are. Chalk it up to orthodoxy/conservativism/whatever you want to call it— it is unmistakably a trend. Among tradition-oriented crowds the motivation is particularly clear— this is getting back to our roots. And make no mistake that’s important. Vatican II was indeed quite clear about preserving the corpus of Sacred Music. However, nothing happens without a little irony.

As Fr. Ruff gave his talk on the history of Chant revival at Solesmes the funny business became clear. Call it a tale of two monks: after years of sparring with the Germans and bucking unfounded Papal endorsements of the Cecilians the French school of Chant interpretation took the lead (ca. 1903). But all was not well. The Solesmes monks all wanted to do the right/authentic thing…but they disagreed about what precisely that was. Infighting ensued.

Joseph Pothier suggested that rhythm should be driven by the text (oratorical). André Mocquereau supported a smooth equal rhythm. Mocquereau won that battle (as any person who sings Solesmes Chant knows). As it turns out, according to the current scholarly consensus (built upon a convergence of the best available sources), the wrong guy won. There were other disputes to be sure but this ironic incident represents a microcosm of historical performance practice debates and even historical research at large.

The principle? The first fruits of retrospective scholarship tend to miss the mark— and moreover, they often stick.

The axiomatic goal of historical research is to bring forth knowledge which can elevate and refine our present practices (most certainly for those which claim a historical flavor!) But what happens when misunderstandings, hasty conclusions or even flagrant disregard for sources leave us more Greek than the Greeks or “more Medieval than the Medievals?” (to borrow a line from Fr. Ruff). In other words, is there value to our imitation of historical styles if they are not, in fact, historical? The short answer (which I suspected and Fr. Ruff confirmed) is yes…but only through what I daresay is a modern concept of art criticism: judge it on its own terms— the “ars gratis artia.” This is nothing new in most circles but it may be tough medicine in some Catholic subgroups which see this pluralism as nothing more than applied moral relativism.

Fr. Ruff put it this way, “I grew up with the Solesmes Chant. The smooth, equalist flow has its own beauty and appeal [albeit a-historical]. I can appreciate that.” In fact, he went on to add that some of the most rigorous historically informed German renditions of chant are indeed a bit laborious! So where does this leave us? I don’t think there is a clear answer. We will always experience tension between historic authenticity and art for its own sake. Is St. Patrick’s in New York good Gothic architecture? No, it’s a wonderful neo-Gothic church. Do nineteenth-century tales of chivalry give us useful insights into medieval culture? No, they’re good Romantic literature.

We can’t ever recreate the past and even if we could it would never affect us the same way. Mozart will not sound the same to ears which have heard Bruckner and the Beatles. The power of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony escapes us thanks to a million TV commercials and an overused hymn. Nikolaus Harnoncourt put this well, “a deceptive cadence that one already knows no longer deceives, [it] no longer is a deceptive cadence.”

Therefore, Chanters beware! If you think that sixth of the hexachord in Ave Maria is a veritable transport to a 10^th century monastery, think again. Hartker, Notker, and John of St. Gall just might hear you with perplexed and furrowed brows.

The end of an era

2008-11-04T20:44:00.000-08:00

Last night a friend asked me to place a bet on when the Presidential Election would be called. I don't particularly relish gambling (although I did win my money back at the boats this weekend) but I said what I thought.

I figured that everything would come together without much ado by 11 CST. A little last-minute statistical tip from a Gallup employee always helps!

It seems I made a reasonable guess.

I rather enjoy politics. I love the constant dialog, discussion and debate. I believe that a nation manifests its health in robust dispute. At the end of the day mutual respect prevails and we learn and grow.

I must admit, however, that these last few weeks have worn on me. It is time for 5 November. I am glad for tomorrow but nevertheless thankful for today.

Regardless of how I or anyone feels about the outcome this evening I believe that it points to at least one undeniable trend: our national identity is shifting.

I have traveled on something of a wild terrestrial and ideological journey over the last few months. Last Saturday morning I found myself planted at the kitchen table squarely across from my aunt.

Aunt D- came to town to review some paperwork for my grandmother's estate plan. She grimaced and griped, "Aren't you glad that you don't have to deal with this mess?" Lacking any context whatsoever I was perplexed. "What do you mean?" I queried. "You know, owning oil rights and real estate...all this paperwork, those taxes...I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

A real mess, indeed! I don't get too upset with Aunt D., however. Our minute conversation speaks volumes about her and all the people like her- and there are plenty. A born Texan, a bit ahead being a baby-boomer, and a life-long Midwesterner she has lived in a charmed world. Nothing has compelled her to engage the world all around her. She goes to the grocery store and then drives 20 miles to JC Penny's to pick up a pair of slacks. She watches the 'soaps' and Wheel of Fortune. She dusts all the furniture everyday and mows the lawn weekly. And, once a month, like clockwork, gets a pension check and a little oil royalty. That's the world. That was largely her parents' world. I understand.

But it's not mine.

America used to "Speak softly and carry a big stick." Then it yelled and smacked people with said weapon. Then, it was back to big sticks- giant nuclear ones and smooth, hard talk. Now everyone has big atomic sticks. What Dr. Strangelove predicted (with necessary sexy consequences) is disturbingly possible and hardly sexy in the least.

We have nukes, lots of other people with nukes, Russia, Iran, North Korea, a war, a faltering economy, dwindling oil, evaporating national resources and a world of countries who think as much of our policy as they do our current Commander in Chief. London gentlemen utter his name like a different kind of 4-letter word. I didn't believe it until I heard it myself.

I could roll my eyes. I could think of how we didn't used to need anyone and probably still don't. (We saved the French and Europe on D-day afterall!) I can rest rest on my laurels. I could just throw the newspaper in the trash and go to Penny's and pick up a pair of slacks... But the world has become to small and our capacity for evil has become too great.

I would hate to overstate the point, however. I'm not sure if it's ever possible to have a "global community." I believe 'community' has limits. It is concentrated. I merely believe we are more connected than ever. This is hardly a 'either...or' scenario. I see it as 'both...and.' Community can and indeed must remain intact in a global or post-national age. We need the sanity of balance. People seem to recognize this more and more.

The photo I added above has a grove of trees in the background. When my grandmother grew up in the years following World War I everyone came to that grove on hot summer days for picnics with watermelon in the shade. They were all Germans and mostly related. In the 20's exploration companies found oil all around. Many people got a little piece of the piece. They farmed, raised stock, and got a royalty check. It was a good life. For generations most of them lived in died within a few miles of where they started. And it worked.

I'm not jealous of that world. It worked and worked well for many. I'm grateful for mine and glad that we are beginning to see the difference.

The Correct Translation

2008-07-17T12:49:00.000-07:00

I have a confession: rather than practicing those indespensible scales I have been perusing the Catholic blogosphere- both time consuming and occasionally frustrating! After two hours of digging I feel like every synapse in my brain is firing. There are just too many worthy issues to discuss and not nearly enough time... and given that this is an big election year everything is spinning in overdrive.

A series of posts on the Commonweal blog caught my eye. The USCCB's rejection of the newly proposed Roman Missal translations (reported 8 July) has generated a firestorm of response.

And here is where I descend into the generalizations: On one hand many US Bishops disliked the archaic language of the 2008 ICEL proposal. There is a great need for sensitive and resonant texts. Afterall, if people can't comprehend language what use has it?

On the other side champions of the newly proposed texts see this as a refreshing return to the authentic spirit of of the Latin texts- or at least a bona fide step in that direction. The 1997 ICEL translation was a 'watered-down' politically correct sham.

Looking at side-by-side excepts from the Missale Romanum, the Cramner/Duffy Reformation-era English, and the 1997 and 2008 ICEL renditions we can make some interesting observations. The differences are clear but the the motivations, ideology, and Ecclesiology behind them is at best debatable and at worst open to pure and shameless speculation.

For example: the 11th Sunday in Ordinary Time: from 1997 we get "O God, the strength of all who hope in you..." From 2008 we have "O God, the strength of those who hope in you..." What's the difference? "All." Oh, we can read so much into this!! It's just like that worn over "pro multis" debate: 'God didn't come with that hippy inclusive language. He came with law and hard teachings. The Church is a special club and only certain people can make it.' Well, maybe. To echo the Academy Award-winning film There Will be Blood, "The doctrine of universal salvation is a lie, a lie!..."

Indulge me with another highlight, this time from the 12th Sun in OT. The 1997 version says "Lord God, teach us to hold your holy name both in awe and in lasting affection..." 2008 goes like this: "Grant us, O Lord, fear and love of your holy name always and in equal measure..." Key words that pop out , for me, are "teach" vs. "grant," "fear" vs. "awe," and "affection" vs. "equal measure."

My guesses on each... "Teach" is an everyday word that any English speaker comprehends quite quickly. "Grant" sounds legalistic or even archaic, to put it negatively...maybe 'formal' is a less derogatory description. I am trying to imagine, "Mom, prithee grant unto me thy blessings such that I may take the car for the evening." Who talks like that? Should the language of the Liturgy be the language of everyday (vis-a-vis meaningful and comprehensible)? Perhaps the broader question is, what kind of God do we have and how ought we approach him? "Does God wait to smite us with his divinely jeweled orb and sceptre?" or is he our "friend"? Maybe both, perhaps? If so, how do we strike a balance?

"Fear vs. awe:" Like "Fear of the Lord" disappearing from some Cathechetical texts, this is another one that draws the battle lines. Screams the Trad: "People these days need to be reminded that everything we have comes from God! We would cease to breathe if he forgot us for an instant! We can die at any second! Did I mention how terrible Hell is and that real people you and I know will probably go there?" Anyone ready for 1950's style sexual repression, depression, closet alcoholism, and abuse? An authoritarian culture of fear? Well, purely correlated, purely correlated. Then Sr. Starbeam butts in: "You stupid people and your fixation on fear. God loves all and forgives all- I'm okay, you're okay, God too. We care way too much about these old fashioned legalistic concepts of God and the Church. God is a woman and a beautiful one. We should be in awe of her feminine mystique. Fear? The only thing you should fear is me and my improvised liturgy!"

As for "affection" vs. "equal measure"...Huh? How do they even come up with this stuff?! Don't tempt me to start stereotypes about clergy, loony Latinists, and intimacy hangups. Ever read Song of Songs? God loves the Church in a visceral way, to put it mildly. These were earthy Mediterraneans writing- they knew how to be blunt and have fun. I guess I gave away my preference on this one.

Okay, I digress, massively! One of my Latin professors, a weathered classicist with more books in dead languages than the Library of Congress, once relayed this relevant story to our class: "As we were translating passages one day I had three students with three rather distinct renditions of one line. We heard them all and then one girl, sitting in the very back row, right in there" (he pointed to the very same seat), "asked, 'But, Dr. W-, what is the correct translation?' And then I just laughed." Why? **Disclaimer: This answer may cause some folks' skin to crawl**: there isn't one! Yes, I know, this seems to reek of "moral" relativism. But think, if you've ever studied a language you know this is absolutely true. And what about Babel? Don't we believe as a matter of Faith that language and communication hurdles are just one of many consequences of sin?

So, the point to all my ramblings: chasing the perfect/correct translation is chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We'll never get it. To me this seems almost common sense but I am always surprised by what I find out there! To be clear, I acknowledge that a translation may be correct insofar as it is 'officially' endorsed or prescribed by the Vatican. I cannot, however, believe or even take seriously someone who thinks any given translation is unquestionable. There are too many factors to consider and none can accommodate them all: formality, accessibility, intelligibility, rhythm, ...even length, to name a few (how dryly pragmatic)!

Rather than the 'correct' translation we ought to seek the 'best' translation- and even that presupposes expectations built on a consensus. I hope and pray that the USCCB can agree on some concrete parameters which will guides its suggested revisions. Otherwise we're back with the same problem... And whatever they eventually agree upon I'm okay- even if I can't reconcile it with my ideology and preference. That's hard to swallow. When we say something is "correct" I suspect we often mean that it is merely congruent with our strongly held convictions or preferences- which is nice if it happens, incidentally. Either way, I trust the Bishops of this Country to make a choice that anyone can respect. If I don't like it I'm not going to go off and switch Rites or found the SSPX.

And then, some day, getting the ICEL and Vatican to validate it all? That mountain is safely in the distance, for now.

POEA- Emphasis on the 'A'

2008-07-15T23:10:00.000-07:00

Pipe Organ Encounter Advanced. This was only the most recent inspiring event of my musical summer.

Some years ago the American Guild of Organists began camps for kids interested in the organ. Aptly named "Pipe Organ Encounters," (POE) they were wildly successful. However, problems developed. Many of the same students attended multiple times and, to put it mildly, were not exactly beginners anymore!

Thus, the AGO created the accelerated version. The Lincoln, Nebraska Chapter won the bid to host this first ever POEA and it was off to the races on 6 July.

Disarmingly talented high school students sent in audition recordings and ultimately 18 were selected to attend the week-long intensive. An all-star faculty was on hand to give private lessons and master classes... James David Christie, George Ritchie, Pamela Ruiter-Feensta, and Todd Wilson to name a few. The faculty recitals were quite a treat!

Volunteering bits of time in my scattered schedule to supervise, drive, etc., I tagged along on visits to some exciting instruments and events. Known for his outstanding craftsmanship and fidelity to significant historical trends in organ building, Gene Bedient gave tours of his shop and a lecture on tuning systems/temperaments. http://www.bedientorgan.com/

We spent one afternoon in Omaha, Nebraska visiting the Pasi organ of St. Cecilia's Cathedral. This instrument and space deserves an entire post of its own! After basking in its luxurious sounds and the outstanding scholarship and wisdom of Dr. George Ritchie in his masterclass, we spent the evening with a residential Kimball Theatre Organ that will blow your socks off.

Joel Martinson, a Dallas-based composer of organ and choral literature, gave a useful talk about trends in the musical profession regarding employment, composition, etc. The lesson here: self-publish if you can make it! The big houses are struggling to keep up and will drag you into their vortex if you sign your soul (or your rights) over in the end. It's bad news all around: Production costs are increasing; The internet makes things instantly available; They're taxed on their inventories (which are massive!); etc. And Mr. Martinson knows...he's in with Oxford University Press, Concordia, Morningstar, and Selah to name a few. http://www.joelmartinson.com/

Only two things went wrong, as far as I can tell: Paul Jacobs of Julliard had to drop out at the last second and the water didn't work in the dorms the first morning. The local paper, the Lincoln Journal Star, had a nice, if not rather hidden (back of the Saturday Religion section), article on the camp: http://journalstar.com/articles/2008/07/12/living/religion/doc4877d93cba41f294169917.txt

The absolute apexes of the week, however, were the student recitals at its conclusion. On Friday the 18 participants showcased pieces they had polished throughout the week in two recitals- the first on a new Reuter at First Presbyterian in Lincoln (see picture above) and the second on a fine Bedient at St. Paul United Methodist. As I was listening I often thought, "I can handle some of this stuff..." But then I kept remembering that these performers are 5 or 6 years younger than I! And regardless of age or training much of the music is just downright tricky...for anyone- Duruflé, Calvin Hampton, Reger, Langlais, major Bach preludes and fugues, one memorized JSB Trio Sonata movement, and much more!

As the students departed for home and other organ camps around the US, it dawned on me that they will be at the absolute forefront of our profession in forthcoming years. Their zeal, talent, and dedication stands to rocket them into the spotlight!

So...they gear up for more high school, and then, soon enough Julliard, Curtis, Oberlin, or Indiana. Me? Practice, practice, practice!

Shameless Propaganda

2008-07-11T23:29:00.001-07:00

Well...after this gaping silence my two month hiatus must end. Now comes the time to resume writing! School is hiding somewhere in August and this summer has positively been an "Organ Spectacular."

A couple important facts:

1. The American Guild of Organists (AGO) has designated this next year as the "International Year of the Organ." The commemoration officially began at the National Convention which took place 22-26 June in Minneapolis-St Paul, Minnesota. The celebration will last until next summer. Countless people have arranged and engaged great scads of publicity, energy, and money to ensure that this instrument has high visibility in forthcoming months.

2. The organ is the greatest instrument- (besides the human voice)! Regardless of personal taste, it is simply impossible to disavow the magnitude of its greatness. Even those who don't like the thing can acknowledge its remarkable and unique status... as Stravinsky griped: "the monster never breathes!" Indeed, it is a breathless wind instrument.

As a keyboard instrument it covers more dynamic range than any other. With regard to timbre it is only matched by the orchestra- which is in itself many instruments. As far as power is concerned it can even swallow the orchestra if it wants. How about the greatest marriage of science and art ever? One can only marvel at the centuries of painstaking developments- a trio of fine artisan craftsmanship, the exquisite laws of physics, and the ceaseless driving quest for beauty. Given its complexity and considering when it arrived on the scene (as we know it) a few centuries ago we might even say that this is one of the greatest technological achievements ever. (If no one believes this then he/she ought to spend a little time inside an organ case)!

And repertoire? It has more music written for it than any other single instrument... spanning nearly 700 years of Western culture, reflecting its history accordingly in a rich diversity of styles. And, in the last century this icon of the West began to incorporate influences from around the world. If economic globalization was a recent phenomenon stemming from our instant communication mechanisms then musical "globalization," we might say, began in the progressive musical minds of people like Debussy, Charles Ives, Messiaen, and Duruflé- years ago. Bewitched by wonderful sounds from new places and ancient times composers such as these concocted compelling and delectable musical sounds that changed our world- and much for of it for the organ.

I must confess that only a few short months ago I was feeling rather phlegmatic about all this. However, a few things have ignited the fire. Namely: a fantastic European organ tour, the AGO National Convention last month, and the first ever Pipe Organ Encounter Advanced this last week. It was at this POEA that, as a part time volunteer, I had the unique privilege of meeting and interacting with some of the most prodigious young organists in the US. If I worried before I certainly now have no doubt that the organ has splendid future in store.

I am transfixed by the exceptional talent and zeal of all these other young organists. Hope abounds when I know that the organ captivates people with its depth and breadth- its timelessness. Whether inspired to play saccharine devotional music that would make the most pious person weep- or flashy Demessieux Etudes- or Calvin Hampton dances- or the golden Bach standards, there is room for almost everything and everyone at the organ bench. Considering all this I feel quite comfortable suggesting that many people would heartily echo Mozart's famous words spoken in October, 1777: "In my eyes and ears the organ is the king of instruments."

(Highlights and reflections on my travels and encounters are forthcoming).

Ecclesiastical Phishing

2008-04-24T14:04:00.000-07:00

School controls most of my life at the moment. However, they can't keep me down forever- it's time to write.

Last week an official from the University Credit Union came to give a talk to my Fraternity about financial scamming. We learned we shouldn't write our pin-number on the back of the credit card. He also informed us that it is dangerous to approve large withdrawals from our accounts when initiated by people in Singapore whom we have never heard of. Overall, I enjoyed that good old-fashioned thread of common sense which ran through most of the talk. It lent a nice sense of continuity.

More than anything, however, I loved the talk about phishing. When I was 10 some paternal relatives and I hiked for an afternoon up into the Absaroka Range. At some little glacial lake near the convergence of Wyoming, Montana, and the sky we caught foot-long brook trout on every cast. It was marvelous...as is robbing people through cleverness. Indeed, the unethical and immoral homonym of my summer vacation activities captured my curiosity as we discussed last Monday evening.

We know that natural selection is hard at work when we encounter something like this- oh, the brilliance of it! I like Wikipedia's key phrase: "masquerading as a trustworthy entity." I can imagine the email now: "Hello John Doe, My name is Dave. I am with your bank. We want to send you a quarterly statement but for some reason we lost your name, Social Security Number, and account number. Please give us that crap so we can get our work done. Love, Dave." And people will supply!

But then a thought entered my head: "What if this trick was taken to a whole new level? What is people outside of cyberspace started exploiting the ignorance of the sincerely curious? What if it happened...in the Church?" And then I realized it does- all the time!

Intelligent people, no matter where they lie on the ideological spectrum, know that the one who controls the education and flow of information has immense power- perhaps more than anyone. There will always be a noble, even enthusiastic, few who are willing to step up to bat and be that underpaid teacher. But outside the classroom, where no degree is required (and likewise no accountability) and the wages altogether non-existent (but immense social renumeration waiting in the grab bag) it is very much the opposite of that Gospel parable- the harvest is small and laborers many. Yes, idiots and ideologues abound and everyone swears they've got the "real" story.

The little angel pictured above is named "Kitschy." He puts all human concepts of reproduction to shame for he has approximately 18,687 identical twins in parishes across the USA. No insane amount of fertility drugs could ever reproduce this reproduction. No, this takes the good old fashioned zeal of ethnic piety. (My gr-gr grandmother Anna Petrzelkova Egrova funded one of the twins). Anyway, Kitschy has a message for you: "I am the model for Catholic Art." Of course, there are many people sincerely asking that question. "What art is appropriate for Church?" "What music can go in the liturgy?" etc. And Kitschy and his confrères seem altogether too happy to play the prof and supply the definitive answers.

Take this to the next level. Take a bunch of truth, mix in a little crap, and...voila- heresy! It is terribly effective because people who ask questions are generally open to answers (to varying degrees depending on the place and time). When most Catholics can't name the 10 Commandments, much less the 7 Sacraments we know it can only be disastrous when folks pose questions like: "What language should the Mass be?" "How powerful is Mary?" "You mean my sister's ordination wasn't valid?" etc. Pick your extreme and there is, at worst, a heretic eager to answer- with devastatingly misleading poppycock. In most cases you'll probably just get some really confident, yet hopelessly unbalanced, apostle of (fill in the blank with fringe devotion of choice). I always have loved the Roman Church because there is something for everyone. It is a vast space in which to swim around (though it is still finite) and occasionally hang out in a little corner (for we all have gifts and talents, unique ways to be stewards). That's alright until I think everyone else should be clustered right where I am (read: checking Mary's message at Medjugorje like clockwork).

It seems that we should pick our battles. There are a few core teachings and if we 'cry wolf' every day we will run out of steam and be dead in the water when the real battle comes. Yeah, Kitschy will do, but he is hardly a well thought artistic contribution to Church decoration. He's still not the model and if anyone claims this I will dig my heels in. That kind of talk takes things to a whole new level. Likewise, when the SSPX priest tells you Vatican II was a farce and John XXIII was an anti-pope, they've hopped out of the pool. When someone says you should pray your daily Rosary because such-and-such Saint said it is 'the gold coin by which we buy our way into heaven' certainly don't let any Protestants hear. When another says, "Hi, I'm with the Catholic Church and Mary is co-Redemptrix," just be wary. (When even JPII didn't approve that I get suspicious. And he was as devoted to Mary as anyone. Heck, he had his Marian crest branded on his coffin!)

And don't give them your credit card number either.

More Loyola pics!

2008-02-20T21:23:00.001-08:00

Chrysler Building anyone? Actually, it's Mundelein Hall!

It was very cold. Here is the chapel from the rear. In front sits Lake Michigan.

Decorative railing

Altar too

The Tabernacle

A Station

Processional Cross

Lots of lines

It's a lake

Madonna della Strada- on the way to Art Deco

2008-02-19T20:26:00.000-08:00

"Madonna of the Way." I think this reminds us well that Christian living is a ceaseless journey. Maybe this also suggests to us the nature of healthy Marian Theology- it's going toward Christ. The focus belongs on Him (read: overt Marian theology creeps me out). I happened upon an article in the online Loyola Magazine that exemplifies what I believe is this true spirit of Catholic journey, inquiry, and progress (see link below). It speaks of the Cassaretto family. To summarize: A bright, young Frank Cassaretto attends Northwestern in the late-1920's. He believes that science and religion are not only compatible but inseparable (remarkably progressive considering this is decades before "Fides et Ratio!") When his chemistry professor suggested that by class's end there would be no room for God Frank left and headed straight down to Loyola. His family hasn't left since- and they've made quite the name for themselves it seems. This was all very interesting to me for several reasons: I've been having quite a few discussions about the apparent contradictions between faith and science lately; I think it's refreshing that there are people who will stand up and proudly say they found faith at a Jesuit school; and...I think the Cassaretto's helped build a damned good chapel! http://www.luc.edu/loyolamagazine/summer07/FamilyTies.html

Despite the raging Depression Professor Cassaretto helped raised money and his wife even pitched in the bridge club winnings. These contributions and many others from generous and dedicated women and men of faith culminated in the 1938 completion and 1939 dedication Loyola-Chicago's "Madonna della Strada" chapel- campus chapel to this day.

Madonna della Strada, designed by Chicago architect Andrew Rebori, stands as one of the finest examples of Art Deco in Catholic Chicagoland- at least among churches. (Next door, Mundelein Hall features some sculpted angels flanking the doorway that look like they came straight off the Chrysler Building!) However, it has been a long time in the making. Though the structure was remarkably completed in the midst of the Great Depression it wasn't until 1948 that the interior walls could even be plastered. In truth, the interior was never quite completed- until now. An interior renovation/completion project which began in 2004 has nearly ended. In January I had the privilege of experiencing this new space. My friends were initially struck by the relative simplicity of the room- which I expected. Many people display a predilection for the 'busy' decorative scheme, a kind of 'gothic' prejudice in Church design. This is no such animal. But neither is it the barren, so-called 'neo-iconoclasm' that so many people fear in churches today. (It's Art Deco!) Where there are images, and there are plenty, they are in rich and vivid color, stylized figures with clean lines, clearly respecting the Art Deco theme. It is a bright sanctuary- the walls are white and ample natural light flows in through a number of windows. This clarity only heightens the impact of the rich iconic material. The fresco behind the altar as well as the Stations of the Cross, both with gold-leaf, are the work of Turkish-born iconographer Meltem Aktas.

The liturgical furnishings are absolutely stunning. The altar, ambo, and decorative railing, fashioned out of iron and marble, form an elegant and cohesive visual statement. I especially like the floor in Madonna della Strada. The picture above shows what's going on here. Gray tile from a 1982 renovation was removed and replaced with Italian marble of several varieties. The marble is arranged such that it forms inlaid sleek-lined designs which add remarkable richness to the room. The floor patterns in the main aisle point processionally from the baptismal font to the altar- symbolic of our Christian journey, and the name of the chapel itself.
One other thing that many people notice straightaway are the chairs. This church has no pews...which seems to be an increasing trend in Churches today. Personally, I think pews are a bit overrated- "medieval torture devices" someone cynically called them once. But this is a bit anachronistic! Pews are a relatively new and Protestant innovation appearing initially around Reformation times. (This doesn't make them bad, just the discomfort)! My saintly LCMS neighbors once told me, rather shocked, that the European cathedral they visited had not a single pew- all wicker chairs! I chuckled discretely in accord with my ethnocentrism. The fact didn't surprise me. Church chairs in the old world are as much a Catholic tradition as booze. So, I suppose, the seating arrangement in Madonna della Strada comes with good precedent.

Also a big part of the Catholic tradition, at least nominally...in some places...is music. Madonna della Strada, with its plaster walls, barrel-vaulted ceiling, and polished marble floor has the wettest acoustic I've ever encountered in a church of its size (which is relatively small, surprisingly). It seems the S.J. powers-that-be spared no expense in this renovation. I was, however, a little skeptical when it came to the music part, only because the Jesuits haven't been known for their love of the organ in the last few decades. I was, accordingly, delighted to find that they've commissioned an instrument for Madonna della Strada which will make a sonic statement rivaling the room's visual eloquence in excellence. This coming summer Goulding & Wood of Indianapolis will install its Opus 47- a 3-manual, 70-rank instrument which takes its tonal inspiration straight out of 19th-century France. They have specifications on their website: http://www.gouldingandwood.com/main.htm. This will sound positively brilliant- and be worth every dime of the mint it surely cost. I think this is cause for a return visit! The installation of the organ will mark the last phase of the renovation. If Mr. Cassaretto were alive, I think he'd be happy to see the Chapel in its full splendor. And the sound of that instrument...I think it could bring anyone to God, chemists at Northwestern included.

This chapel has always been the preeminent visual reminder of God's presence at Loyola. Now, after a just renovation long deserved, Madonna della Strada can again fulfill its full purpose- It is grand house of God and a fitting sanctuary for his people. See their website for more: http://www.luc.edu/loyolamagazine/fall07/Feat_MadonnaDellaStr.html

Cathedral of the Holy Name- Chicago

2008-02-12T20:17:00.001-08:00

A couple of months ago I was introduced to Dr. Ricardo Ramirez, music director and organist of Holy Name Cathedral, by a mutual friend at a concert. Dr. Ramirez is a wonderful man and a talented musician with quite the resume. In addition to his D.M.A. he holds a grad degree in electrical engineering. Not many organists can boast that kind of versatility! (Well, Naji Hakim). If I recall correctly he did some collaborative work with a dance troupe as well! In any case, I took him up on an offer to visit the organ. His secretary called, responding to my message, while we were at SS. Faith, Hope and Charity to say Dr. Ramirez could show me to the organ at 1pm. It was 12:40 and I was in Winnetka. "That's great," I said, and without a moment's delay we hopped in the car and headed down the Kennedy. People were returning from lunch so traffic was a bit hectic. I hopped out a few blocks up State Street and ran down to the Cathedral- only five minutes late. But alas, he was not there. I was a little upset with myself but the docent sent me around the block to the rectory. And there he was.

Dr. Ramirez took me up to the gallery which is, understandably, under lock and key. I'm always amazed how often small Catholic churches in tiny towns with small "toasters" for organs have both the loft and the console locked. In this case it seems pretty defensible- considering how many people (of all types) wander in and out of the Cathedral and considering what's on the other side of the door.

In the gallery, of course, is the largest Flentrop in the US. It also happens to be the largest mechanical-action organ in Chicago-land. A projected conceived by then-music director Richard Proulx, it was built in 1989 at the Flentrop workshop in Zaandam, Holland and generously funded by Alice O'Malley Robinson as a memorial for her husband. Pictures, as usual, don't quite do it justice. Visually I think it looks quite striking in the room, which itself has been tastefully and sensitively renovated. (A great example of how styles can be blended!) The organ is absolutely huge- physically and sonically, coming in at 117-ranks. And recordings don't do it justice either, mostly because there aren't any. Dr. Ramirez explained that there are no recordings of this superb instrument because for the longest time the acoustics didn't do it justice. I had to agree. I went to Mass at Holy Name over four years ago and recall the sound of the room was awfully stifled. However, much has changed. The entire floor has been redone- no more carpet, all terrazzo- hooray! I'm guessing this will usher in a new era wherein the world may soon be able to encounter something of this instrument's amazing sound. They have quite the choir too!

But, there is no better way to know an instrument than to play it. And play it I did! (Not so much as I would have liked). There were ongoing First Friday devotions in the Eucharistic Chapel so I was limited to smaller combinations or more delicate sounds. Nevertheless it was quite amazing. Ricardo gave me a brief demonstration. Some interesting highlights: certain chorus reed stops can be turned so that they are controlled by a pedal lever. Though they aren't on separate chests they act "effectively as ventil levers." This certainly comes in handy with French Romantic literature. Also, on the swell sits one of the finest voiced 1' flutes anyone will encounter. It's not at all shrill, not like olden-times Reuter upper-work- this positively glistens. Ricardo played a little Messiaen excerpt to show off the stop. Though there is no mechanical assistance he said it is never terribly heavy. A four manual tracker looks quite formidable! And speaking of which, glancing at the console you think you're looking at a giant 17th Century North-German instrument. Not so- this has all kinds of reeds, foundations, and mutations. And some of the voicing seems downright warm. In noodling around for a bit I found that the flutes have a fairly rich sound- and the celeste is hardly anemic. I expressed my surprise and Ricardo concurred, "there's nothing you can't play on it."

...Which brings me to the one downside- there are absolutely no combinations. So, the stops are all there (and they are quite large and pull out about 2 feet) but without a diligent assistant or eight arms it would be a bit difficult to play...oh...let's say Howells. But all reservations aside it's something positively amazing to behold. I understand every instrument has its limitations. As my old organ professor once said, "every time you choose one thing you necessarily loose another, in getting something new you loose something that was before." In this case it seems that the choice for the unmatched connection and control that mechanical action provides (especially for this size of instrument!) precluded the option of combinations.

The Holy Name Flentrop, like all good church organs, supports both the liturgy and the great solo literature. For more immediate sound at the front of the sanctuary Holy Name has an additional instrument. This choir organ, a 1981 Casavant (revoiced by Martin Ott in the later '80s), sits up on the south side of the sanctuary behind the ambo. Unfortunately I didn't get to hear that one. But this is just one more reason to return! The AGO has an excellent website from a 2006 convention which contains information, specs, and multiple pictures of the Cathedral organs. Check it out at
http://www.agohq.org/2006/html/venues/venues3/HolyNameCathedral.pdf

SS. Faith, Hope & Charity Photos

2008-01-31T21:04:00.001-08:00

Saints Faith, Hope, & Charity in Winnetka. Pictures as promised...

Edward J. Schulte

2008-01-29T21:09:00.000-08:00

In December I prepared the first two movements of Mendelssohn's Sonata #4 in B-flat for my organ jury. During my weeks of preparation I picked up a copy of Steven Tharp's recording of the Six Sonatas for Organ on the 1983 Casavant at St. Clement's RC Church in Chicago. I enjoyed the energy and precision of his playing and the luxurious acoustic but wasn't so fond of his tempos- too fast for me. After reading a bit about that building I decided it was high time I pay the Windy City a visit for the sake of its ecclesiastical architecture- and a friend nearby.
So, the first week in January I hopped on a plane and luckily ended up at O'Hare. After enjoying a couple days in beautiful Rockford IL, "The Forest City," (also a burned-out industrial center full of decrepit buildings), we headed down the tollway for a Chicago Church Crawl. I put together my itinerary with the assistance of an excellent book published by the Liturgical Institute at the University of St. Mary of the Lake/Mundelein Seminary called "Heavenly City- The Architectural Tradition of Catholic Chicago" by Denis R. McNamara. There are two things I especially like-impressive buildings and impressive organs. When the two mix I feel very happy.
I found such an excellent combination of these at Ss. Faith, Hope, and Charity on the suburban North Side in Winnetka IL. I particularly looked forward to seeing this Church because it was designed by Edward J. Schulte. I have a special affinity for his work. You see, one of the first churches I ever visited was a Schulte church. In March 1987 I traveled to the Cathedral of the Sacred Heart in Salina KS for my 98 year old great-grandmother's funeral- in-utero. Mom didn't like the church. She said it was dark and had "weird designs on the ceiling." Fortunately I've had an opportunity to visit that Cathedral since then and make the call for myself. I like it. Unfortunately I didn't take pictures and there doesn't seem to be a single interior photo on the whole internet. (Summer project?)
Anyway, Schulte had an interesting career and published information concerning him is sparse to non-existent as McNamara notes in his book. He began his career in Cincinnati designing theater lobbies and bank foyers in that region for a number of years. His life changed when he attended a dramatic candle-lit lecture in Pittsburgh by the renowned medievalist Ralph Adams Cram. Cram, who designed St. John the Divine and St. Thomas Church in NYC, came from a Unitarian family in New England but had a dramatic conversion in Rome in 1887. His faith-inspired passion for church architecture was famously limited to the Gothic style- indeed he was undoubtedly at the helm of the Neo-Gothic movement in America. Inspired by Cram, Schulte devoted his work thereafter to the design of churches. (His unpublished autobiography is titled "The Lord was my Client.") Over time, however, his conservative Gothic tastes were influenced by modern elements.
By the 1950's Schulte had developed a style all of his own. During this time he designed the La Crosse WI and Salina KS cathedrals. His 1962 achievement in the parish in Winnetka displays all his strengths in full color (literally). He effectively combined the Neo-Colonial style of the preexisting parish plant with a markedly modern ornamental scheme in a way which has remained unmatched in my opinion.
Passing through the doors I found myself in a low and dark narthex. Entering the nave I encountered a "soaring, rich interior gleaming with polychrome paint, brass, marble, gold, and mahogony arranged into a complex ornamental pattern" (to quote McNamara). The space is full of brilliant contrast- simple wooden pews with an intricately designed ceiling motif above; plain earth-toned walls with shimmering stained glass reminiscent of the walls of heaven as described in Revelation 21:18-21. Behind the altar stands a sculpture-laden grill concealing the choir space which stands before a wall composed entirely of glass in blazing color.
Typical of Schulte, SS. FH&C contains many progressive elements amidst the traditional hallmarks of church design (e.g. cruciform church): There are no columns, offering an unencumbered view of the altar; the altar itself, built before Vatican II, stands freely as well. And his light fixtures are always a treat! To the left of the altar sits a beautiful Holy Family Shrine by Leo Cartwright.
But what was that through the grill??? I spy an organ! Because I know how these things are often arranged I soon found the choir door via the sacristy. (It was unlocked which was convenient for me and probably unsafe for them). And then I discovered a treasure- a large, split case Casavant (the console says Goulding & Wood) with quite the Romantic palette. But things kept getting better- in a very un-Catholic way the console was unlocked and I helped myself to a sonic taste-test. What I encountered I didn't believe was possible in American Catholic churches: a large, relatively recent original commission from a respectable firm with an incredible sound. I played about the last 40 bars of the Vierne Symphony I Finale to get a good sense of the sound. It was hair-raising but not hair-parting. In other words, it wasn't that dull, loud, horizontal sound that one encounters when hearing a Wicks Diapason. This was FULL, ground-shaking sonic warmth- a fortissimo that filled the space. You could feel the pedal reeds thunder- and the acoustic was pretty darn good!
Thumbing through a parish bulletin which I snatched I found that SS. FH&C has Ed Nowak for a music director. Mr. Nowak has a number of solid and useful pieces published through G.I.A. So it seems the instrument is in excellent hands (which is never a given in Catholic Churches). Overall SS. Faith, Hope, and Charity seems to be a vibrant and active faith community. What a Church they have! And what an organ! Pictures to come...

The Sixth of January

2008-01-06T22:35:00.000-08:00

This last week focused on Illinois in so many ways. But one thing at a time... Driving home this evening I realized two things- the internet is flooded with scads of useless crap (mostly porn) and January the Sixth is a special day. Conveniently, these realities coexist beautifully. That is, I feel little guilt for what I am about to do- flood this minute corner of the cyber-world with vignettes about a dead immigrant.
I was sleeping at 3 am yesterday morning but at that exact time 196 years ago (6 January 1812) in a wooded valley along the River Kyll in a cottage in a tiny village called Densborn in Rheinisch-Preussische Anna Maria Faber gave birth to a boy. Anna's husband Simon Stomps was a carbonarii, a charcoal-burner. He went into the woods and made charcoal. Evidently this was a delicate and messy operation. They cut down trees, chopped them into pieces, arranged the sticks into a conical pile with a certain space for air, covered this in sod or clay, and burned it from the inside out. This produced charcoal which was helpful for stoves, deforestation, and literally fueling the Industrial Revolution.
Anyway, Simon and Anna Maria took their son to the parish church of Sankt Maria Magdalena and Fr. Haas inducted the baby into the Roman Church as "Johann Stumps" later that morning. Johann was a farmer but eventually flew the coop for industrial labor. His quest took him to the dirty industrial town of Schönecken where he married a young lady at the elegantly named St. Leodegar Church in 1841. They had three kids and then she died. It was probably stressful or even sad so he returned to home to Densborn. He married again. This time he wedded his cousin's daughter (fairly common at the time). And so Christina Stumps became Christina Stumps. This couple would eventually have 7 children and even some mental illness amongst the progeny. (I have suspicions that this resulted from the consanguinity).
Presumably because Prussia was embroiled in increasing political turmoil Johann, the wife, and kids picked up and left in the spring of 1857. They didn't bother registering for passports or obtaining permission of any kind ('illegals' in a way). They just floated down the Rhine and took passage on a British Bark, the Alberti at Antwerp. The Stumps family arrived at NYC on 3 June 1857 and promptly made their way to Lemont, Illinois, the very edge of Cook County, a visual appendix.
After toiling in the area for a few years Mr. John Stumps (anglicized) relocated to 20 Evans Court in Chicago. The Civil War just ended and the West End of Chicago was a booming German neighborhood. John worked as some kind of shoemaker and laborer. Supposedly, he was an enterprising man who loved real estate. One story says he went to Washington to deliver some land documents from Kansas to President Lincoln. They stood eye to eye (6 feet, 4 inches). I don't really understand this and unfortunately the only photographs of John and his family were a bunch of tintypes that his crazy grandson threw down a well 110 years later in a paranoid frenzy. Without a doubt, John later bought land in a promising subdivision, Washington Heights, far on the South Side (about 107th & Beverly).
John had fathered 10 kids by 1872. Four died in infancy. Ferdinand liked trains as a kid and lost a leg chasing one in a railroad yard in the neighborhood. He was known as "Peg Leg Stumps" and he eventually went to Oklahoma in the Land Rush. Catherine raised a respectable family around Downers Grove but was maimed rescuing her daughter from an oncoming train (her shoestrings were snagged). Simon drowned in one of the worst mine disasters in Illinois history. Gertrude married a beer salesman from Bavaria. Michael learned the boot and shoemaking trade from his dad John. Mike also operated a streetcar.
One windy day, a few blocks away from their place, Kate O'Leary's cow kicked over a lantern in her barn and burned the whole damned city down. (I want to believe this despite what the Chicago City Council resolved in 1997). Mike was working and saw the fire so he joined the futility that was fighting it.
In the Spring of 1878 John again got a progressive itch and decided to move forward. So, he and the misses/cousin, Mike, Peg-Leg, and little Christina (Tennie) packed up and headed for the middle of nowhere, more exactly about 16 miles from the middle of Kansas. John bought a quarter section of UP Railroad Land in Ellsworth County. The area was flat and treeless. For the most part, it still is.
Coming from a city and a wooded Prussian valley, John despised the desolation but loved the cheap prices. He had lumber shipped out from Chicago by rail and hauled out to the farmstead by team. He built a fine and commodious frame house, planted groves of trees and took to farming. Tennie was a fine student and Peg-Leg made cigars in the neighboring town which no longer exists. The local paper, the Cain City News, jostled John for building a stone hen house: "He believes in keeping his stock as well as himself, well housed, and is bound to have all comfortable" (20 Nov. 1884). Indeed, the Stumps' was a 'hoppin' place, to use an anachronism. Before the construction of the local Catholic Church Fr. Emmerich said Mass at their farm on his circuit. They also hosted a lavish dance party as a fundraiser for the construction of the Church (doomed as the town when the RR went elsewhere). The fete was an extraordinary affair wherein "the largest cake seen in years sold for $12.50 to Mrs. Mary Lauterbach" (16 April 1885).
Soon enough Peg-Leg married and was off to subjugate the Native Americans (by moving to Oklahoma). Tennie met a Chicagoan who came out on the railroad with the summer threshing crews. John sent her off with a feather mattress and fine bedstead for a dowry and they married in Chicago. John's wife/cousin, 17 years his junior, got the cancer and died in 1892. They buried her in the churchyard cemetery in the declining Cain City. John wrote his will and lived with his son Mike and his family in their new house.
In the winter of 1895 he fell ill. When the Holyrood Sun from down the road complained of not hearing from old Mr. Stumps on 15 March he'd already been dead for a day. They buried him next to his wife. He has a host of descendants all over Kansas, Oklahoma, Illinois, and Wisconsin, mostly (me included). His thrifty lifestyle and Mike's subsequent investments in oil and real estate managed to cushion the family, financially but not mentally.
When my grand-uncle was a young man he was sitting on the porch of that old farmhouse. His old aunt came out with a trowel and a bucket of iris tubers and he inquired about her activity. "I'm going out to the Old Cain City Cemetery to put flowers on grandpa's grave, Old Man Stumps under the cedar trees." Uncle Walt was spot-on with those kind of details and years later that information piqued the appetite of my hungry 12 year old mind.
We hopped in his rusted out Chevy and went down the road to that same abandoned cemetery his Aunt Regina visited 50 years before. Knee high grass and not a tree. A few headstones but no Stumps marker. "All that money and not a simple marker?" I asked. "Well, Regina always wanted to get one...just never got around to it" said Walt. (She was worth well over $1000000 in 2007 dollars when she died). The neighbors across the road advised that the trees were removed by some volunteers a month before. Walt took the truck into the overgrown mess and we began to scour the grounds. Supposedly the cemetery is owned by the Diocese of Salina and administered by the Holyrood Parish. It didn't look like it. It still doesn't. Fortunately, however, the tree removal was a hack job and iris tubers are remarkably resilient. There in the NW corner of the cemetery sat two fresh hewn stumps, still smelling of cedar, and a smattering of renegade irises before them. Stumps below the stumps. I snapped a picture of the spot. Paydirt.
Eight more years passed. When I left the Seminary this May I had a list of summer projects. Number one: Stumps marker. The first week in July dad called a high school classmate who runs a monument company in town. He cut us a deal (literally): $70 for a simple, used but overturned, granite headstone- engraving included. I wanted it to be a surprise for Walt. Dad tried to get that Friday off of work for the 6 hour round trip but his boss decided to take an unexpected sojourn to his lake cabin in Arkansas. No dice. The next week I went to the grocery store to buy tortellini. When I got home the phone rang. Walt was dead. I was mad at dad's boss.
We went down for the funeral and also did a little recon work concerning our memorial for the less-recently departed. How fortunate I took that picture before! This last spring was a killer tornado season and two twisters moved right over the spot, damaging and disfiguring my other visual markers. By early August 2007 I had had this grave marker which says (1812-1895) sitting in my garage over a month and would be damned if it wasn't in the ground by school time. (The technicians said they haven't seen 8's like that in a while). Come hell or high water I would get that sucker planted!
Finally we went down in August. On a balmy, mosquito-ridden evening, just at dusk Dad, Mont (his cousin) and I went out with that hunk of granite, some shovels, and a couple bags of ready-mix cement. We dug a bed, nailed us a frame, poured us a footing, and set the stone. The grass was waist-high all around. If someone is upset that we trespassed on Diocesan property then the bishop can remove the stone himself. (Good luck with the deep footing. It's anchored by a large cinder-block- and try mowing the place once in a while). The next morning I broke away the frame and nestled the dirt around the crevices. When I walked away the scene receded again within the prairie grass, cut from view. At least something is there, finally.
We missed John by 112 years and Walt by one week last summer. I slept through John's birthday yesterday and now I shall again 'hit the sack.'

Ethyl Alcohol- The Lighter Side of Christmas

2007-12-25T23:57:00.000-08:00

Gloria in excelsis Deo...et gratias ago tibi Deo! Indeed, thank you God for seeing me through the service playing gauntlet that is the birth of Thy Son. Three separate Masses, 2 different sermons-I am now prepared to contemplate the Christmas question...which has much to do with another kind of post. One thing bears mentioning now: sentimentality. As I sat behind the console plunking away at the swooning chromatic strains of "O Little Town of Bethlehem" I was swept up in raptures. The little baby wrapped in swaddling clothes is an appealing image. And the picture only grows in glory when coupled with the finest ethnic piety. Fr. Benedict Groeschel once told us a scenario where he felt the Spirit in such a way: Discerning God's call, young Mr. Peter Groeschel wondered around NYC and North Jersey visiting various religious houses, hoping he might find one that seemed to work. Sure enough, after finding all the orderly Germans and hot-tempered Irish he could handle, he came across some earthy Italian Capuchins. He described them as loud, blunt, and a bit crazy- it appealed to his self-described "sense of humor of an old Jewish lady from Jersey City." He loved it. He also attended Christmas Mass at their chapel where they erected the traditional ornate creche- sans Jesus, of course. At midnight Jesus made his appearance like He, Himself, could not have imagined. (No, this one takes ingenuity straight from the heart of post-Romantic Sicily). As the choir piously chortled the toothache-sweet Gesu Bambino (courtesy of master Pietro Yon from those glory days at St. Patrick's Cathedral) the tiny, chubby, rosy-cheeked plaster Christ Child descended from the rafters, dangling precariously from a thread of a wire. Upon the arrival of the airborne bambino, John the Divine surely stammered in astonishment as he watched from the heavens- never had the "Word become Flesh" like that. Conveniently, the parish in which I play has excellent rafters, like a ski-lodge, but we didn't have any Sicilian Capuchins to throw up there! Nope, my Christmas entertainment had more to do with hippies- like my uncle. (Uncle Tony is awesome but sometimes drug-use hurts the brain, for decades.) So, after all the music duties were done I proceeded to the family Christmas Lunch. On the maternal side the 7 kids take turns hosting the annual feast. Because it was Uncle Tony's turn and his house is essentially an environmentally-friendly lean-to, he hosted lunch in a small, 3 room, vacant apartment which he owns... in a nearby town...always full of meth labs. Uncle Tony doesn't mess around with that kind of stuff but he makes his own booze, which is also an adventure of epic proportions. (Wine, I should say...to my knowledge). Things got off to a great start. Grandma found some prayer in a small devotional book which she decided 30-plus people should pray. Accordingly, she copied it, by hand, over 30 times onto separate sheets of legal-pad paper. She's 84 but she knows of zerox machines. It defies explanation. I'm almost positive this incident now joins the ranks of other significant mysteries, such as the Incarnation- I think the timing on this one was a sign! Once the meal began the Bud-Light appeared (because this is Nebraska). Soon after the Coronas followed, Uncle Tony swearing by these with limes in hand- and of course his homemade "wines." Some interesting observations on these "wines:" the bottles are labeled with various innocuous titles like "chokecherry," "pear," and "apple" but the immediate acerbic tinge seems to say this your generic unleaded gasoline with food coloring; initially, the ephemeral sweetness tingles the tongue but soon this gives way to a vicious bite which sends rottweilers running. It needs a chaser- I'll take some of that pomegranate 7-up. Yum! But more scientific analysis was needed. Ah yes, the 'cup test!' Notice how that 80-proof brandy is slowly warping that paper cup; Also note how that homemade "wine" burns through that cup like chemical warfare is going out of style. Yet, I live- a testament to resilient genes. My cousin, who is a chemist at an ethanol plant, toyed with the idea of taking a vile and running a scan to determine alcohol content. And then he said he went to the "Upstream Brewery" in Omaha. Describing it, he said: "It was alright, but they didn't have normal beers there- just that microbrewery stuff." The cousin in cowboy duds tacked on a bit, "Yeah, I can't hardly stand Sam Adams, way too rich." Oh, that's right, Bud-Light country. Someday an old German farmer who brews a killer stout will win the Powerball. He will give it to the Husker Athletic Department and suddenly all of "Husker Nation" will drink that ale like it was the Fountain of Youth. Too bad Ponce de Leon didn't find it first! At least I'm sure he saw his share of kitschy Iberian Jesuses.

Jesuits and other heretics, part 2

2007-12-23T18:05:00.000-08:00

...So here comes the part actually related to title. At least two people I ran into this week made some comments to the effect of "Jesuits aren't really Catholic" and "Jesuit tradition? What the hell is that?" Well, my gut reaction to both statements, respectively, goes as follows: "Yes they are. If they are baptized then they are real Catholics. If they are validly ordained then they are real Catholic Priests as well." And, "Religious orders have intellectual and spiritual traditions associated with them. The Jesuit Tradition is one associated with the Society of Jesus as much as the Benedictine Tradition is associated with Benedictines etc." Perhaps my answers are a bit trite, a tad too smug. Perhaps I'm not reading the serious subtext here: the Jesuits are off their rockers. Honestly, I hate it when people make the Jesuits the ecclesiastical whipping-boy. Realizing the underlying message of these and other recent comments I was determined to find the catalyst. Jesuit bashing is endemic to these parts- but such a concentrated rash? Something is ticking people off. It's like some kind of virulent disease broke out. In the 1969 techno-thriller "The Andromeda Strain" an entire fictitious New Mexico town is nearly wiped out by a mysterious and apparently extra-terrestrial pathogen. There are but two survivors- a baby and a crazy old man. Uncle Sam assembles a team of elite scientists to decipher the problem. One doctor comments, "We'll have the answer to this disease when we know why a sixty-nine-year-old Sterno drinker with a bleeding ulcer is like a perfectly healthy two-month-old baby." Likewise I found myself wondering, "What makes both an athletic female high school senior and a middle-aged pastor of a large urban parish tick?" Evidently it was something that happened in St Louis, Missouri, last fall no less. The version I heard goes like this: 'The Jesuits finally came clean; they renounced their affiliation with Rome. Didn't you hear? St Louis University is no longer a Catholic school; they are a school in the "Jesuit tradition."' Hoorah! We always knew they were screwed up. Now all our slander was justified! After all, "if you're not going to be 'Catholic,' you might as well stop pretending," as one gentlemen incisively mused... Which is funny because the facts indicate that this situation is precisely the opposite. If SLU is pretending to be anything (and nothing suggests they are) they are pretending to be non-Catholic! Indeed, SLU is ever the 'Catholic' institution (for all practical intents and purposes) that it has been in its distinguished 180 year history. If we take a peek at their website at http://www.slu.edu/sluhistory/index.html we immediately find references to this "Jesuit Tradition"- which ultimately leads to information that is unmistakably Catholic. So who are they tricking? The government evidently. This is actually about something as simple as money. The City of St Louis approved a multi-million dollar TIF (tax increment financing) plan which would fund certain urban renewal projects for a blighted area- including facilities for SLU. At some point the whistle-blower appeared and pointed out that tax dollars for religious schools violate the Federal 'Establishment' Clause, not to mention the Missouri State Constitution which has stronger wording yet. According to the Missouri Court of Appeals the State Constitution is in this regard "both more explicit and more restrictive than the First Amendment to the United States Constitution." Apparently The Masons sued. Nevertheless the Jesuits, brilliant as always (in all seriousness) found a way. According to both the wording of the law and scrutiny of relevant judicial precedent mere loose affiliation with a religion does not disqualify an institution from receiving aid. It must be, in fact, "controlled by a religious creed"(emphasis mine). Jesuits are Catholic. But Catholicism is a choice. ('creed' is credo, I believe, and belief absolutely must be free). And all Catholics, and non-Catholics for that matter, are not Jesuits. Students aren't turned away from SLU based on creed, and while it is a Catholic institution (whatever 'institution' happens to mean) the power lies in the hands of a lay-board. Thus, from an operational standpoint SLU is non-sectarian. Yet, it remains identifiably Catholic. Enigmatic? So is any city or public organization filled with a demographic group in majority or plurality which happens to be Catholic: Los Angeles in 2000 was 46.5% Hispanic, incidentally L.A. was also 39% Catholic in 2005, but the "City of Angels," or more precisely Nuestra Señora Reina de los Angeles is still not part of the RC Church. According to this reasoning which was, of course, supported with ample precedent, The Eastern District of the Missouri Court of Appeals found that SLU, a school in the "Jesuit tradition," does NOT violate the Establishment Clause and is therefore eligible to receive public funds from the City. Sure, Jesuits are still Catholic but here the word Catholic was merely a nominal distinction that stopped the school from getting millions of dollars. Heck, for that matter let's not pretend; critics of the Jesuits and their 'crazy' liberation theology won't pretend that people go to Jesuit schools for religious reasons anyway! But what about that that business where Jesus said "Whoever is ashamed of me...the Son of Man will be ashamed of when he comes in his Father's glory," Mark 8:38? Aren't they forsaking God? Nope, they dropped a politically charged word. In seminary we once were assigned to debate various moral issues without referencing the Bible or the Catechism, not to speak of the word "Catholic." Our professor's soundly reasoned that "if you dispute someone hostile to your Church, you can bet they will reject your internal sources. If you use these words, you're dead in most forums." When in Rome...no pun intended- in a secular society use the jargon. It's all about the words. I bet things haven't changed functionally around SLU since Fall 2006. Everyone knows where the Jesuits stand (like it or not), God not the least, and that ultimately dismisses the criticisms here, whether on a legal or theological level. Heck, around here the Catholic Schools would love to get public funds of any kind. The closest we ever got was some kind of text-book lending program. I was looking at Yugoslavia in textbooks. The legislature ran from vouchers like the plague. If only we were schools in the "Catholic tradition"... But that would forfeit too much control, not to mention be impossible because the Catholic elementary and secondary schools in the diocese are parochial not private organizations per se, that is, they are associated with parishes. This deeper level of "sectarian" entanglement makes the mere thought quite a stretch. Perhaps my analysis of the SLU situation is overly simplistic. To be safe I'll let the accused party speak for itself. Let those friendly to the cause explain their reasoning in their terms. This amicus curiae brief from the aforementioned case should suffice: http://www.urbanreviewstl.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/01/clrf_brief.pdf . And for that matter you can read the Appelate Court's decision for yourself: http://www.courts.mo.gov/courts/pubopinions.nsf/ccd96539c3fb13ce8625661f004bc7da/b1deebaf441860fa862571fb004db9cc?OpenDocument&Highlight=0,ED86804
And so, sadly, I regret to inform my friends that this ordeal at SLU had absolutely nothing to do with a cowardly renunciation of Catholic doctrine. It's all law and politics. Which is okay...and money. I think the Church likes those things. Check it out yourself, but don't let the facts get in the way. Oh, the St Louis Urban Review always has wonderful information regarding "urban planning and related politics in the City of St. Louis and region." There's always a lively discussion. Check it out at http://www.urbanreviewstl.com/

Jesuits and other heretics, part 1

2007-12-23T13:26:00.000-08:00

I know, loaded headline- all to be read with a spark of subtly facetious cynicism. I mentioned the Jesuits before, and what perfect timing! These last few days I turned on my ears and deduced that it was "Degrade Things I Don't Understand" week with some folks around town. I shall elaborate. First, "The Golden Compass." Critics have been giving mixed reviews. After all what do we expect? Another fantasy film is bound to be a bit predictable. But I've not been hearing cinematic criticisms. I've been hearing content criticisms. The word on the street is that the movie is anti-Catholic. PAUSE. Now, it's terrible to profile but I do it anyway, so here it goes: the people living in the USA of 2007 who complain about the moral content of movies probably also subscribe to a broader reactionary ideology. So, let's go on a joyride with this premise. American Society always was and is an anti-Catholic social structure. Should it shock us that a purportedly anti-Catholic movie surfaces? Then again, this movie has British influences which makes perfect sense- we all know that those crazy, progressive Europeans are lost! But before we get lost there, let's back up. Philip Pullman, the author of His Dark Materials (the book on which the film was based), did not direct this film. Regardless of Pullman's beliefs or comments regarding the RC Church, Chris Weitz directed this film. Mr. Weitz found something he liked in the book but nevertheless intentionally departed from the book's more overt anti-Catholicism and was met with stiff criticism from censorship groups and Atheists. To think! People angry that the movie wasn't anti-Catholic enough! Anyway, Weitz and Pullman surely share some of the same convictions- that stuff about questioning unquestioned authority. Oh, but here comes the heresy: is this so bad? I don't think that even the most intellectually bankrupt Christian will argue that God gave us brains for no reason (then again, I suppose somebody will step up to bat on this one). Yeah, the Trinity and Mary's Perpetual Virginity are mysteries but many things aren't. Exercising mental discretion is a good thing, perhaps necessary. I don't suppose members of the Church hierarchy have ever abused power or betrayed trust. (Please don't read US newspapers from the last decade or any accurate history book). Ah yes, clergy can't screw up. No concupiscence there! This is probably true in any institution. Uh oh, here comes anecdotal evidence: I recently made a move in my Catholic Fraternity to establish some type of mechanism for systemic oversight. Inevitably the question came: "But do we really need this. I mean, we're a Catholic organization. Can't we trust each other?" Yep, it's true: human nature is subsumed by systems. Back to the movie... Nothing sounds more noble than Latin and in "The Golden Compass" villain is called the "Magisterium." As one fine young man recently put it, "The bad guys are called the Magisterium, I mean, literally, the Magisterium. Can they make it any more obvious?" The answer is "no," "no they can't- to me" (whoever "they" are, but that's neither here nor there). The connection is crystal clear to me- 14 years of Catholic school and some seminary; of course, I know that the Magisterium is the official "teaching authority of the Church." To the rest of the world, does this ring a bell? You know, magister means teacher, etymology..huh? I guess I'm not much for conspiracy theories. Let people speak for themselves if possible. Said Weitz regarding anti-Catholicism in his film: "If that's what you want in the film, you'll be disappointed." Heck, even Nicole Kidman pitched in her two cents, "the Catholic Church is part of my essence. I wouldn't be able to do this film if I thought it were at all anti-Catholic." Of course, we may still think what we like; we just can't maintain that these folks meant it that way- which is entirely the argument I've been hearing. Nope, "The Golden Compass" merely addresses thought control- and not even the most orthodox, right-thinking Catholics want the Church to be described that way. Indeed "In the books the Magisterium is a version of the Catholic Church gone wildly astray from its roots" (emphases mine). This comment from Weitz reminds me of what the beloved Bishop Fulton J. Sheen once said: "There are not more than 100 people in the world who truly hate the Catholic Church, but there are millions who hate what they perceive to be the Catholic Church." Even if I'm wrong, even if Weitz was lying through his teeth, even if there was an organized plot with Pullman to undermine the Catholic Church in this movie, cui bono, to whose benefit? The Atheists? People aren't leaving Church in droves since the movie appeared. The Devil? We never know who's going down with that hell-raiser. Money? Money is supposedly the false-god that drives the film industry and yet this flick has been grossing a good deal less than expected. Bill Donohue and the Catholic Action League call for a boycott, a bunch of people stay away, fewer dollars come in, and guess what, Pullman wins the moral victory! Instead of engaging or at least ignoring "dangerous ideas" zealots took the bait, made a stink about it and validated the all the delicious irony that Pullman savored. Ultimately, I can't see how this movie is morally consequential. It tried out for the team, barely made the cut, and now sits on the bench with Harry Potter, bored as hell, watching child abuse, marital infidelity, and sexual exploitation play hardball. Frankly, I thought "The Golden Compass" was mostly about a little girl riding around on a Coca-Cola mascot in a Winter Wonderland- perfect for Christmas! If you don't believe the Weitz and Kidman quotes see them for yourself at the link below- but ultimately, don't let the facts get in the way. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2007/10/14/npullman114.xml

class concludes, festivity

2007-12-14T23:15:00.000-08:00

Hooray! 17 credit hours are more or less complete. Class is done for the semester and all that remains is the formidable foe of finals. Light and fluffy snow presently falls upon us in clumps. It covered my car which makes driving difficult. I looked in my trunk and found a large red broom with plastic bristles. Off came the snow! However, the handy broom was not the best of the evening. My professor held a party for members of the University chamber choir this evening. There were a bunch of college students, some other professor-ly types (and spouses), pizza, delightful munchies, and a bag of freshly roasted coffee beans straight off a plane from Portland (courtesy of the sister-in-law of our gracious host!) Everything was magnificent! I will shamelessly admit that I love majoring in something where I can hang-out with my teachers and joke about class/music, Church, and/or politics off the clock. Musicians don't clock-out- this is not so much a job as it is a way of life. So, I was talking with my professor's husband (and his sister) and the conversation wove its way through a number of topics: a Jesuit mission trip to Columbia, my former seminarian life, Church Hierarchy, the Latin Mass and finally the Latin Mass in England where they formerly lived. And then he showed me a picture of his wife and the late Basil Cardinal Hume (O.S.B.), Archbishop of Westminster. What an outstanding prelate! He could administrate while balancing British identity with Roman Curial demands. And speaking of balance: his cathedral's choir. The Westminster Cathedral choir must be the best Roman Catholic Cathedral Choir in the world. They are proof that the Roman Church has no reason to be ashamed of taking musical cues from our Anglican brethren. I have several recordings of the choir under James O'Donnell- and they are exquisite! I can only hope to visit soon. Even though the choir was initially patterned after the Anglican model they manage to maintain a distinctive, bright treble sound. Somewhat atypical in the Anglican tradition, this tone has nonetheless garnered the admiration of the likes of Elgar, Holst, Vaughan Williams, Britten, Howells and others - and resulted in commissioned works! Though not as well known (but she can hold her own from how it sounds), composer Roxanna Panufnik was commissioned to write a Mass for the celebration of Cardinal Hume's 75th birthday. The aptly titled "Westminster Mass" contains all the typical ordinary of the Mass plus a special piece. This piece, "Deus, Deus meus" (O God, my God) comes from the text of Psalm 62(63). Cardinal Hume specifically selected this text, a favorite of his (and incidentally, mine as well) which shows up in Sunday vespers. The music is hard to forget once you've heard it. Panufnik juxtaposes minor and major chords of the same root simultaneously! The resulting clash creates a distinct sense of urgent longing which paints the text beautifully: "for you I long; for you my soul is thirsting. My body pines for you like a weary land without water." If you are curious, this piece can also be found on the Hyperion label: "The Music of Westminster Cathedral Choir." Now I must sleep. In eight hours I must play cute organ music with flutes 8' and 2' while the Bishop blesses creches. (Oh, that rhymed!)

my apologies to philosophy

2007-12-12T23:37:00.000-08:00

In an apparent tribute to unilateralism the University Chancellor held out and opted to hold classes despite a formidable glaze of ice. Oh, well, 'water under the bridge' as they say. I was thinking again and realized that I think often. And that seems ironic. Okay, I'll come clean: I don't hate philosophy. In fact, it can be interesting and aid our understanding of the world. It's just that often the people who love it most seem so pretentious and out of touch. Philosophy is like a tropical poison tree frog. It may look cool, intriguing, and occasionally pretty- but. if you lick it (or get too intimate) it WILL murder you! Indeed, the cancerous effects of elitism can be found throughout the higher reaches of any field. (Philosophy merely has a long and noble tradition with this). You know the people: "I'm too busy with my terribly important x, y, and z to waste my time dealing with people. It distracts me from important things, like (fill in blank with respective discipline)." They are everywhere and certainly musicians have been guilty too! Sure, concentration and dedication are necessary for any success but if people take a back seat our priorities are screwed up. Maybe I have too much youthful naivety but I like to pretend that people like jobs/career fields because they want to make the world a better place by changing individual people's lives- one at a time. And heaven knows we need some changing! Look at the news: A troubled teen from suburban Omaha, NE guns down 8 random people at Westroads Mall. Of course, no one is truly random. Everyone has a life and a story that is utterly unique. Brutal toying with that defies explanation. All the sociological and psychological analyses in the world won't undo grief. They never will calm the human soul stunned in the face of raw evil. The smallest and simplest response is love. And it is the best. I read a marvelous op-ed piece by Leonard Pitts the other day entitled "Deliver Us from Our Capacity for Evil." He goes to the Holocaust Museum every holiday season. It reminds him why we need deliverance- often from ourselves. But the response is simple. When we realize that everyone is ultimately trying to get by, trying to find some sense of happiness, fulfillment, or love in their life, then the world is much smaller. There are suddenly no random people- for we share all the most important things! That solidarity is wonderful and yet it is so terrible that it often takes evil to refocus the perspective. I was reading a Christmas letter today from my great-aunt whose husband passed away on their Kansas farm this summer. In talking about great uncle Walt's passing this lady used language so similar to everything I've been reading in the paper about the Westroads Tragedy. It struck me. Grief is one of those precious few things that binds people from all time and space together. I once encountered a 4th century poem by Aurelius Clemens Prudentius that offers a vivid and powerful imagine of death and eternal life. This translated text, "Take him, earth, for cherishing," was set to music in 1963 by English composer Herbert Howells- to be sung in a memorial service for JFK at Washington National Cathedral. Howells' writing is distinctive to say the least- full of exquisite dissonance and elegiac nobility. The spirit of this text and Howells' composition style were a match made in heaven- the result is one of the finest motets of the 20th century. A grand piece of nearly 8 minutes, Britain's musical expression of solidarity and sympathy with a grieving nation captures all the fear, pain, and uncertainty of death as well as the steadfast joy of salvation. I have never heard confidence more powerfully portrayed in music than at the words "take, o take him" in the final stanza. (It's not gender neutral, but perhaps we can forgive our ancient Latin poet). The choir of St. Paul's in London has an excellent recording of this in a Howells compilation on the Hyperion label. Borrow it. Buy it. Listen to it. You can hear heaven.

Yoda was wrong

2007-12-10T21:07:00.000-08:00

Today in Music Theory my professor made a Yoda reference. While I think Star Wars was alright Yoda was definitely wrong. "Do or do not; there is no try" ??? This quote assaults that whole Cohen Brothers effort-based ethos which I love so dearly. 'Trying' by definition would be some form of doing but I suppose he meant "do" in the way that effects certain results. It seems he meant "stand up and deliver or get out!" Maybe this abrasive imperative doesn't quite fit the mold for his whole ambiguous, quasi-New Age aura? Perhaps there is a reason I cling to this whole validation-by-effort thing...ah, yes! I've got it!- anxiety on account of impending trials. With final exams and an organ jury looming before me I feel a wee bit uncomfortable defining myself in terms of academic success/failure (surely to be extended into my future professional life). The solution? I shall insulate myself with the consoling padding of my inherent dignity as a child of God, or to put it like a priest I heard recently, "We're all very special." (Indeed, it's true, but I can't help but poke fun at such an overwrought expression). Of course, I don't think that everyone should get an 'A' for effort and amble recklessly though life with nothing to show for it; I'm merely suggesting a sane balance. Yoda was too harsh. Sometimes we work hard and receive a just reward. Other times we bust our ass and leave empty handed. Strangely enough, it's humbling- and again I know "We are not in control." In other words, stressful times can restore proper perspective. Of course, flip-flopping bastard that I am, I'll likely come full circle when an 'A' comes back on one of those tests; my fears- unfounded. There's nothing like that feeling of being the existentialist Juggernaut. I'll lounge on the beach of my proverbial island high on the speed of self-determination while sipping cocktails with Gilligan cursing John Donne. So, Yoda, 'try' time is every time- to be rewarded for trying, for the effort to bear fruit? That time's much rarer. And therein lies the only distinction between 'doing' and 'trying.' As a hippie once said (and the Bible) "to everything there is a season." (more cliche courtesy of Pete Seeger). But, all things in good time. Speaking of seasons, it is winter and sleeting like hell. I hope class is canceled in the morning.

the wondrous Cohen Brothers

2007-12-09T20:56:00.000-08:00

"No Country for Old Men" was a paean for reality. I loved it and accordingly I went and saw it three times in the theater. So, what is the antithesis of this cinematographic gem? Ah, yes, I know exactly! Once, when I was a seminarian there was this guy who lived down the hall. He didn't speak to other human beings- except in the language of philosophy. His typical social interactions consisted of one way conversations that went like this, "If only our confused modern culture would embrace the brilliant Scholasticism of Aquinas the world would be much better off." Apart from my general skepticism concerning people who make the distinction between the evil modern world and good medieval world, I just found such comments exceedingly entertaining. But I digress- what truly creeped me out about my sophist neighbor was his love for curling up in the library with a hefty volume of Nietzsche on Friday night. I can think of a few things I'd rather do- for example, drinking drain cleaner. And to think, he hates Nietzsche! But that's not the point. Sitting around and reading gobs of literature by insane people while entertaining the delusion that I can change the world by doing so, is foolish. Descartes, Montesquieu and Diderot wrote and then Robespierre and a whole pile of people acted, perhaps too much. John Locke and Thomas Paine wrote and then George Washington and a bunch of colonial traitors staged a revolution. Nietzsche wrote and then Hitler and then a bunch of fascists...well, you know what happened. Marx and Stalin... Misinterpreted? Misapplied? I can put my all my faith in political and philosophical systems or I can put it in God and do my humble part. I know I at least won't be wasting my time. "No Country for Old Men" doesn't paint the world in rosy colors. This is not a stock Western either! I think it is even a bit dark to be "dark comedy." Chalk-full of cold dispassionate brutality it doesn't pretend this is anything new nor ending anytime soon. This movie has its own category- REALITY CHECK. Near the end it really gets to the heart of this matter. Things will never work out quite the way we want and they never will. So much for Manifest Destiny and the American Dream! So do we give up? No! We keep working. "Work out your salvation with fear and trembling," curing cancer, police, parking tickets, etc. This is good. Trying with the expectation of being the savior, well, "That's vanity." Helping even one single person have a better life? That's a goal satisfying enough for me. And, God knows, with a musician's salary, I won't be moving mountains with my money!
(See www.nocountryforoldmen.com )

premier ramblings

2007-12-05T22:10:00.000-08:00

I was born about 120 miles from the geographic center of the continental United States. Among many things this infers (not the least of which is a stereotypical lack of "culture") is that I inhabit an agrarian land. The soil and climate around this particular place lend themselves to corn. Characteristics of the environs include small towns, multiple bars, healthy elderly people, long vowels, hard -r's, Republicans, Roosevelt Democrats, football, diseased elm trees and a whole host of other important things. You wouldn't expect to find a fixture of North Italian/Lombard Romanesque architecture in the middle of a cornfield. Yet, that is what one may find in Seward NE- courtesy of Sinclair Hille Architects and the Knights of Columbus. Sadly, "Campanile in the Cornfield" is not likely to arouse the interest of individuals interested in either of the two. People interested in campaniles (free standing bell-towers adjacent to churches) tend to not care about corn and people interested in corn tend to have not the foggiest idea what in the dickens a campanile happens to be (much less care). After considering this I find myself disturbed by the sudden realization that we live in a frustrating world. I can't ever quite make things as I wish. I might venture to say that on the whole things will never be perfect- frustratingly close, perhaps, but nevertheless falling short. Goodness, how novel!- a fallen world (or somehow 'cosmically disoriented' if it pleases you). Don't worry though, everyone has a solution! Reagonomics, organic food, Communism, and lead-free toys. (anecdotal evidence- when I was very small I chewed on a windowsill covered in lead paint. Nothing happened). No, I can't waste my time mentally drilling too deep into the semantic quibbles of others- that takes masochistic fortitude that could only end up launching me into the far reaches of pretentious elitism. If I read every piece of philosophical literature ever written and discovered, perchance, a feasible solution to the world's problems I would be, by that point, so hopelessly irrelevant, that I may as well have never wasted my time. This is, incidentally, why I don't plan to resume being a philosophy major anytime soon and very much a part of why I loved the recent blockbuster "No Country for Old Men." But more on this later! I am content to bask in the minute irregularities and subtle joys of life (I'm thinking "Dappled Things" by Gerard Manley Hopkins...) And then I turn on the TV- Presidential Election campaign ads. My head splits. So, off it goes and me as well. I listen to Rachmaninoff's "Bogoroditse Devo" as it snows at 2 am. I recalibrate. He was always a Romantic, even long after the "Emancipation of the Dissonance"- old fashioned music, like Widor 1920, but beautiful nonetheless. I'm glad I came home to music. It can give peace, like God's, if for a moment.