Rhein Wein All The Time

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)

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

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

"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

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

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

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

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"

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

...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

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?

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!