Coda

So often in life, there's some extra bit that needs to be done after you thought the project was completed.

Hence, the coda.

Christmas Concert - Worship on a Grand Scale

I am sharing the following at the opening of this season's SEU Christmas concerts.

As you might have seen on our schedule of arts events or gathered from our Facebook posts, this concert is about “worship on a grand scale.” In the next two hours you will hear the voices and the instruments of our department united in musical prayers and in the proclamation of the coming of Christ. In addition to those sacred expressions, you will also hear themes from famous movies and ballets, as well as romantic songs of the season. While it is occasionally our impulse to criticize these more secular expressions for missing the reason for the season, I invite you to hear them differently tonight. I invite you to engage with them not so much as entertainment but as signs of the coming of Christ out beyond the walls of the church. I invite you to receive them as the vibrations in human culture of the reality of Jesus becoming one of us 2000 years ago. For when we sing of sleigh rides in winter wonderlands I think we reveal humanity’s longing for a path of joy and peace; and when sugarplum fairies dance in our heads and across our stages we begin to open our hearts just a little bit to the possibility of the truly extraordinary. When we celebrate the giving of gifts and the warmth of home, we echo the miraculous provision of that first family of Christmas in Bethlehem. And when Santa flashes across the big screen - the grandest forum in American life - we remember that, as songwriter Kyle Matthews puts it, “Everything Santa knows, he learned from Jesus like how the finest gifts we give, we give in secret  - like sneaking in on Christmas Eve in ways we’d never dream, putting little children first. Everything Santa knows, he learned from Jesus long ago.”

Click here for Kyle's full song and a very nice fan video.

Community

As a friend pointed out, if you talk about authentic community a lot, you might not be having much of it. (This is probably true of a lot of things like integrity, transparency, etc.)

Or, to paraphrase Picasso, once a culture starts to have a concept of "art," the dis-integration process is well underway.

In other words, when all these good things are functioning well, they are likely to go unnoticed.


I'm in the midst of a very busy week or two. I share the following partly just to keep a little record for myself.

Tuesday night, I accompanied some musical theater and played a Chopin nocturne for a Polk County Museum of Art event at the Lakeland Yacht Club. That was an elegant affair on the shores of Lake Hollingsworth. It was special for me to play such a wavy night piece for that occasion and at that location.

On Thursday, my new art colleague, Jon Seals, and I presented a collaborative effort for Southeastern's weekly "Reflection" chapel service. This involved a meditative piece I wrote when my father was dying, some slow-motion footage of the ocean that Jon provided, and a reading of this poem by R.S. Thomas.

Tomorrow, I'm providing a masterclass for our local Music Teachers Association students. The next morning I'm accompanying the All Saints youth choir for the First Holy Communion service followed by accompanying a number of SEU vocal students at our Afternoon Melody concert at the museum. And Monday, I'm the guest pianist for a gospel anthem on the SEU Choral concert.

None of the works I'm performing are super challenging to play, so I'm enjoying all these opportunities to be musical with others without having to put in a great deal of a time in the practice room. And that brings me to the topic of this post - sharing a number of points relevant to making music in community.

1. I approached preparing the nocturne performance as a test. I've known the piece for a long time and I wanted to explore the effectiveness of a series of procedures for bringing the work back up to a performing level over the course of the few days available. I won't outline the process here, but I am glad to be able to indicate that it was pretty effective.

What wasn't effective was this: I spend most of my piano time teaching others which means I develop a vision for their playing, but not so much of a vision for my own. When I do practice, I experiment a lot, and I frequently experiment while I'm performing. That might have worked for me for a while, but I am starting to recognize another path.

Experiment, absolutely, and do so in practicing a lot, but keep the performances focused on fundamentals. Those who know me might not think that sounds like me, but I have recognized for some time that those of us who have a more expressive and imaginative bent need to put energy into fundamental musicianship while those who are more basic in their approach need to actively pursue a more creative tact. The first sort of pianist needs to aim at a simple and stable approach while the second needs to seek inspiration and to develop s sense of spontaneity. The goal for both is better communication with the audience which is why this has something to do with community.

2. Working in the context of an artistic community is really key to getting something of quality done. In my immediate community, there are three poets, two composers, and a painter. I usually find conversation with colleagues from other disciplines to be the most fruitful but talking about the composing process with other composers is also always a wholesome and helpful way to spend time. What I particularly value about interaction with non-music artists is their aesthetic sensibility, technical knowledge, and thoughtful vocabulary with which they respond to my work without the burden of extensive musical concerns. This provides fresh views, context, and ideas that help me to see both my work's worth and my way forward.

3. Speaking of extensive concerns, here are some classic issues that we piano teachers encounter as we try to provide support to our students on their journeys: anger, competitiveness, perfectionism, performance anxiety, self-esteem struggles, and self-differentiation processes. At one time or another, they can all masquerade as artistic virtues, but those on the outside of the dynamic can see that each issue is musically crippling.

A friend who has recently overcome some self-esteem/self-differentiation/perfectionism-induced malaise said the most lovely things before and after a performance. This friend looked at the venue and said "Playing here is just like playing in my living room." Afterwards, there was this follow-up: "I was just sharing the music with the audience."

These words belie an epiphany, and while they might sound basic, their joy and healthfulness is apparent when you realize they replaced words like
"I'll never be good enough."
"I played better than so-and-so."
"I didn't play as well as my teacher thinks I should."
etc.

Simply sharing the music we know and love seems to me to be the best goal if we want to fulfill our talent. Competing with others or ourselves, or trying to fulfill our mentors' (usually imagined) expectations move us away from the music and our talent. They might also move us away from love and community, and none of that is in the best interest of us or our audience. 



  

Sweeping

A breeze is stirring in our courtyard 

as the temperature drops

and the seasons change.

Out beyond the courtyard is the cottage -
a simple room with a table and a chair.

As the weather cools,
it becomes a good place for focus.

So I'm spending more time there

slowing down,

being calm,

and changing little by little.





For good use,
this space needs a bit of attention.

It needs something
like the wind in the courtyard.

As seasons change,
it needs a stirring, too.





Enter the broom.

Invariably, while I've been out and about my daily business,
some bit of dust has collected in this peaceful place.

So I sweep.

And as I do,

I think of a certain grandmother who kept a neat house and swept her porch religiously.

And I remember a poor friend who kept the tradition of the swept yard -
an outdoor room, the best for living -
driving the snakes away and burning mounds of detritus like little offerings.

Their sweepings were daily and quiet, just like my own.

As I recall that wind and fire are emblems of the Spirit moving mysteriously to cleanse and to consume, I realize that such sweepings are just what we need in the cottages of our souls.

It is thought that St. Columba oversaw the work of his monastery community from a hut on this windy hill on Iona. He must have swept there a time or two-hundred-thousand, and in sweeping, daily cleared out the attitudes, habits, and patterns of thought that would have doomed his metamorphosis from exiled warrior to sweet abbot.

A rich interpretive sign at the foot of Columba's hill

Signs

And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years . . . Genesis 1:14


The musical score is full of signs. 

The note on the page requires a pretty complex bit of reading: 
its shape and coloration convey the duration of the sound while its location on the staff indicate the pitch to be performed.


And then we have an array of signs that indicate how to play a note or groups of notes.

These include:

articulations (how one note is connected or not connected to the next note)

phrases (which notes go together as a units)

dynamics (how loud or soft a note or group of notes should sound)

processes (changes in dynamics or pace over time).
  

What we lack is a sign for the specific purpose of delineating trajectory. 

All the other signs require interpretation so that we can understand the flow and direction of the music.

As Charles Rosen wrote in his book on the music of the Romantic generation, it is not enough to obey the signs. Interpretation - that is, our artistic duty - requires asking why those signs are there. Asking that question yields insight into the composer's strategy, insight into the composer's personal way of writing a sonata, a rondo, or whatever the form at hand is. 


In this way, we learn how the music is moving, and when we communicate that knowledge through our performances, the composer's personality and genius are heard and our listeners are moved, too.  


 

"Your Important Self Esteem"

My father would have turned 86 yesterday. 

In his memory, I share the following bit of "self help" he wrote in the 1980s. 

I think we still need it.

Your Important Self Esteem
by Rev. Charles J. Hulin III

A very unfortunate trait of our day is that of persons being forced into situations in which they are made to contest, compete, and clash with others.  Always, someone loses and has the ego bruised. We need cooperation more than competition to build up and bind together the human race. Since we make others feel like "losers" or "lesser persons" or "less than persons" by this onslaught on their esteem, such persons are nullified, in a sense, so they have to try to assert the self again. This is often done through various "attention getters."


Some "attention getters" used to massage the ego in hopes of regaining a sense of personhood:

being rebellious                 "I reject you."

being bossy                        "I am leader."

being dishonest                  "I am sly."

being sensational               "I am unusual."

being boastful                    "I have accomplished."

being self-centered            "I am important."

being "martyred"               "I suffer."

being self-righteous           "I am good."

being perfectionistic          "I am flawless."

being boisterous                "I am here!"

being sullen                       "I am not impressed."



Your Self Esteem

Always keep in mind that your self esteem is not dependent on others! Never think less of your self based on the thoughts of others.

1. Acceptance of you as a person

You were neither created nor endowed by any man. You were created and endowed by your Maker; you came from Him and will return to Him! You are a person and most unique since no one has ever been just like you, and no one can change that!

2. Approval of your intentions

You need no one's approval for your hopes and dreams. Your hopes and dreams are just that - YOURS! We all are taught when babies to win approval, and to avoid disapproval, from our parents. Thus, we live for years doing just that! Now, however, you are a grown-up person - your own person - and the approval of others is not necessary; Others may not know enough to qualify for approving or disapproving in regards to your life.

3. Appreciation of your accomplishments

Your importance as a person does not depend on whether your efforts are appreciated. You do what you do because it is your desire and capability as a person to do so. Tell yourself that because it is true! Tell yourself that many times a day if necessary.


Results:

If you believe and practice these three above, you will find that, being independent of others regarding your worth and esteem, you will:

view others objectively

view no one as threatening

discover the great potential in your life to be a very real, strong, noble, loving person.

 






   

Big Week, Part 3: Dream

Last Tuesday, between the faculty gala and the choral hall opening, I addressed our departmental recital gathering (the weekly meeting of all our music majors) along the following lines.

Dr. Ingle, our university's president, set the tone for this academic year with the word "dream," so I would like to consider this topic of dreams together as musicians.

During the summer, I visited with a couple of old friends - friends who trained to be professional musicians. As we are all reaching middle age, we reflected that, while we are working in music, the primary duties of our jobs are not the things we trained for. Yes, we spent hours and hours learning how to perform a musical phrase with elegance and healthy technique, but since then, we have also learned to tutor students, to write good e-mails, to manage budgets, etc..

This being paid for things you didn't exactly train for is actually the norm. (And, by the way, it is a good reason for pursuing a liberal arts education.) But more than being the norm, this emphasizes that music is ultimately a gift to humanity. Yes, we do have gifts for performing music, but we are also to give that music to others. My friends and I agreed that, whether we were working professionally in music or not, we would still be making music and giving that gift. We do not have to be paid money for it, although it's nice to be. Our real pay is in the giving of the gift, in being part of a design that brings blessing to the world.

We music faculty want gainful employment for our students after they have finished their degrees, and hopefully that work will be in music. But achieving employment, even in music, is not really our central desire for our students. If our students' dreams are simply to be employed as musicians, and they achieve that goal, what then? What do the remaining years of their lives look like? What propels them to keep achieving and what gives meaning to that work?

And so I turn to questions that I first heard proposed by my friend, Brother Stefan Waligur. (Stefan is a great composer and an equally great friend whose gifts for empathy and getting to the heart of a matter are profound.)

Br. Stefan asks:

What are you doing with your music?

Whom are you loving with your music?

When we consider what we hope to accomplish with our music-making, we Christians tend to turn first to worship. Some of us are called to explicit church ministry, but not all of us. Those who serve by supporting the worship of congregations would do well to dream of three types of prayer found in the Psalms. I will list and briefly discuss them below but they are explored nicely here.

1. What should be obvious to most of us, worship involves praise and thanksgiving.

2. A second facet of what the psalmist offers - and something we don't frequently provide our congregations in any significant measure - is the opportunity to lament. Much of the world lives in lamentable situations, situations in which Christ joined them on Good Friday, but more often than not, we are not willing to linger with them even though many of these brothers and sisters have no choice but to lead their entire lives essentially on the cross or in the tomb. For a very challenging word on this topic, see this writing by Dr. Miguel De La Torre.

3. A third spiritual orientation is played out in the Psalms and that is the calming and quieting of the soul as referenced in Psalm 131 and other places. These words suggest a mode of relating with God that moves beyond praise or requests, nourishing trust and inviting intimacy, instead.

There is music that expresses and catalyzes thanks, lament, and silence. This is music of the church that could make a difference for the world. And a great many of us are called to make music "out there" in secular space where the needs of the human heart are just as great. A number of powerful passages speak to the possibilities of music in that arena and help us know how to build our dreams.

Exodus 15 - Miriam's celebration
What do we celebrate as individuals and as a culture?
We should be on the lookout for what to celebrate so as to help others recognize its specialness and importance. Musicians have a strong voice in defining what and how to celebrate.

Exodus 31 - Moses' remembrance
Poised to enter the Promised Land, Moses reviewed and interpreted Israel's history for his nation.
What history do we need not to forget?
World War I, the Holocaust . . .
but good things, too -
the lives of saints, the legacies of those who shaped us and of those who answered God's call. 

Joshua 6 - Jericho's walls
What sorts of walls do we see that need to come down?
Joshua's story teaches something about the real labor of bringing down walls. And this is it: While the quick clip of the wall falling flashes across the broadcast news and captivates our imaginations, the real work of advocacy consists of untold days and years, even generations, of preparation. The advocate comes to recognize the need for change then works and works and works to raise consciousness, and then just keeps keeping at it until critical mass finally weighs heavily enough on the wall. Somewhere in all of this, music can be a megaphone for the powerless. 

I Samuel 16 - Saul's therapy
Who is troubled and can be relieved by our music-making?
When we reach out to bring relief through music, we enter into relationships, and, just as in David's case, those relationships might well determine the very course of our lives.

Acts 16 - The pastime of Paul and Silas
I picture it like this: at midnight, having been flogged, jailed, and put in stocks, Paul looks to Silas and says, "So what do we do now?" and Silas says, "Let's sing some of those hymns you like." And so they persisted in faith and in the holy pastime of private worship. And God responded. We who strive to make music professionally for others sometimes forget to make it in our homes and to express our heart to God with it, whatever the situation.

Ephesians 5 and Colossians 3
What needs to be taught or learned? Who needs to be encouraged and to what end?
Music plays a role in these things, too, and perhaps a greater role than the factors we normally think contribute to these dynamics.

In conclusion, I think of Brother Stefan again and of another of the probing questions God has given him.

As we go out from Southeastern to the places of our lives' service, do we truly believe God loves us?

So often, we focus so much on ideas of our sinfulness and God's justice that we never allow ourselves truly to accept that God loves us. The initial posture of the prayer Jesus taught us was that of a child speaking to a parent, not of a lawbreaker begging a judge. I believe we need to pray that way until we can give the gift of music with the purity and freedom the world needs.    

An open space and a little window through which one might dream

Big Week, Part 2: Choral Hall!

Toward the end of the week, we celebrated a major achievement for our department and the university: the building and opening of our first facility designed specifically for music. The space is a beautiful room for choral rehearsals and will also house jazz ensemble and string orchestra rehearsals for the next year or so. Another larger rehearsal room for wind ensemble and orchestra is scheduled to open in the fall of 2016.

Just before the public ribbon cutting, we held a brief event for donors in the space during which our dean, two students, and I spoke. Dr. Gordon also led Chamber Singers in Bruckner's "Locus iste" which was a perfect choice for the occasion.

My remarks ended up being about the legacy we have received and what should be the impact of that on the future. I shared those remarks a few days ago here. In the process of preparing those remarks, I found myself contemplating the contributions of the two men in the middle of organization who led us to this special day. Of course none of this could have been done without the vision of the university's administration or the gifts of donors, but as chair, I have special knowledge of the contributions of our former chair and our dean, Drs. Tindall and Collins, contributions which might be overlooked in the excitement of the event.

Dr. Tindall was brought to Southeastern as chair nearly thirty years ago. He built the department just about from scratch and committed his entire career to "building people" in our programs. He did so with humility through the constant change of these decades in American universities and in Christian higher education in particular. It has been his dream for years and years and years to move that solemn, people-building work into facilities worthy of the endeavor, and he has hung in there until this has finally started coming to pass. Without his service, dreams, and sacrifice - a great deal of which took place before the rest of us came to SEU - we would never have reached this milestone.

And from the dean's office, Dr. Collins has cogitated, advocated, and collaborated pretty much non-stop from his first day on the job to make this milestone a very fine one. He has considered every detail of the building and has masterfully consulted with everyone involved from the architect to the builders to the donors so that the facility would be of the highest quality. His passion and effort has been thorough-going and I simply cannot imagine anyone achieving this better than he has.We are blessed to have him spearheading such works in our midst.

Over, around, and through the work of these colleagues, there is a sense that the entire project is something much bigger than any of us, and this great synergy, spanning from our alumni to the impact of our programs on the distant future, seemed evident at the ribbon cutting. Even bigger than our collective imaginings and our best efforts at plans at the University, I dare say I believe we are finding ourselves within a movement of the Spirit. I hope this strengthens the faith of others as it has mine.  

Big Week, Part I: Faculty Gala

First Presbyterian, Lakeland

This week was a big week for all of us here in the Department of Music at Southeastern. It started with the first concert of our season, the faculty gala.

This time around, the gala was built around the concept music of the Americas and my colleagues provided works ranging from Canada to the Caribbean. I was particularly pleased by the variety of works spanning opera arias, chamber music (including a work for snare drum and computer), and jazz. A favorite aspect of this concert for me was being introduced to the music of Srul Irving Glick. I am copying the program and a few remarks shared during the gala at the end of this post.

I also enjoyed getting back into thinking about a canon of American keyboard works that could serve as an alternative to the traditional European canon that most of us continue to promulgate. I am not looking to displace that canon, but I am interested in providing a somewhat parallel set of experiences developed on our shores that raises awareness of how things have evolved here.

There are several points that are on my mind today regarding that alternative canon.  

1. It’s lacking in significant Baroque-era works. That should not come as a surprise as we didn’t get the country started quite early enough. Even after Bach and others were done writing in a heavily contrapuntal style in Europe, we were mostly just starting to get a bit of musical infrastructure in place. By the time that was a little bit up and running, early Classical music was on the scene. Some composers had come across the ocean with those new ideas while others already here were operating with older models suggesting a compositional mindset that almost had more in common with Medieval procedures than those of the Baroque or Classical periods.

At that time, Alexander Reinagle was writing in an early classical style informed by what was idiomatic on harpsichord and fortepiano. His dances and variations can provide a sense of airiness similar to what a Handel suite or Mozart variations might contribute to a European-based recital.

2. It seems that the early American repertoire is much more engaged with British material than the mainstream European music that has survived in the standard repertoire. While Scottish songs of Haydn or Beethoven are occasionally performed, the keyboardist playing early American music will be frequently confronted with sets of reels, variations on fiddle tunes, and references to British military triumphs.

3. As one moves toward the repertoire of the 20^th century, Afro-Cuban influences become more and more important. Beginning with Gottschalk’s musical souvenirs of Havana and continuing with the crossover of those ideas into ragtime, Latin rhythms become a part of the fundamental vocabulary of music in the United States. In some ways, our music might be a whole lot better integrated than our nation.

  

Jefferson’s March - Alexander Reinagle (1756-1809)

The Willow Song - Douglas Moore (1893-1969)

Ricordanza - George Rochberg (1918-2005)

Stop Speaking - Andy Akiho (b. 1979) 
    
Intermission
                                                                                   

Caprice: Sui Moi! - Louis Moreau Gottschalk (1829-1869)

                                                                               

Monica’s Waltz - Gian Carlo Menotti (1911-2007)                                                                           

Suite Hebraique no. 6 - Srul Irving Glick (1934-2002)

        

St. Thomas - Sonny Rollins (b. 1930)

                                                                                       

Who is an American? Where is an American? When is an American?

These three increasingly strange sounding questions remind us that the American experience differs significantly depending upon one’s culture, location, and moment in time. The music of this year’s faculty gala has been chosen to move us across such boundaries of geography, history, and ethnicity so as to hear, as it were, America singing.

We begin in the early days of the United States with a march composed for our third president. Then, Dr. Braamse will join me for an aria from the 1950s that is strongly suggestive of folk music, particularly British folk music which shaped the sound of American popular music in the 1800s. Our third work is described by its composer as a “commentary” on the opening passage of a Beethoven cello sonata and leads us to recollect the Germanic roots of American classical music.

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More and more, we find ourselves collaborating with machines. And these machines seem to be taking on a life of their own. But it is a life that we gave them. We are about to hear a work that explores that very relationship. A snare drum over there and a “digital storyteller” over here are going to have a conversation. That has always been the ideal of chamber music: a conversation. So the concept of this piece is tried and true, but some of the sounds are new and reflect the age of machines in which we are living.

At yesterday’s rehearsal, I checked the volume level with a decibel meter and I can assure you that what you are about hear will never be louder than 90 decibels and will generally not be much over 80 decibels. That means that the sounds bouncing around the room will not be much louder than a rather noisy car driving down the street. This performance will also rarely be significantly louder than it is at its beginning. I tell you that so can relax and not be worried that it will suddenly get much louder. However, the sounds will continue at a fairly intense level for a while. So those with hearing aids or those with sensitive ears who are sitting directly in front of the amplifier might want to make some little adjustments.

Mr. Blume is doing a great service by performing a work like this right here on our concert series. While this work might seem a bit abstract or odd to some of us, it is representative of the huge repertoire of electro-acoustic music that has been created since the advent of the tape recorder. And, like any work of art, “Stop Speaking” is open to a range of interpretations. So you should feel free to find it off-putting, or witty, or maybe even poignant.

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A New Orleans native, Louis Moreau Gottschalk, was the first American pianist to achieve acclaim in Europe. In addition to his time there, he went on numerous tours performing in the United States and in Latin America. His many experiences abroad are expressed in works like the one you just heard which combines a Chopin-like flare for the keyboard with the rhythms Gottschalk heard in the music of Cuba.

Now we turn to another aria from the mid-20^th, century this time from Menotti’s The Medium. The character Monica is singing to, and on behalf of, a mute boy named Toby who works as a servant in her home. Monica is expressing their affection for each other. After this aria, Mrs. Gardiner and I will share a beautiful work by the prolific Canadian composer, Srul Glick who is well known for his contributions to concert music and to the Jewish liturgical repertoire.

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Our final selection this evening is a great example of sounds of music that journey through time and space to create a sense of identity in our hemisphere. The tune, St. Thomas, is thought to have its origins in an English tune that first appeared in print in the 1770s. Transplanted to the Caribbean, in was transformed into a nursery song. Finally, through the “interpretation” of Sonny Rollins it has become a jazz classic.

"Excellence with Anointing"

I'm sharing my remarks from this morning's SEU Choral Hall ribbon cutting below for those who might be interested.

It is my honor and privilege to speak to you today on behalf of the music faculty.

We could not be more grateful or more deeply touched by the fact that our university’s administration and all of you generous donors have made this moment possible.  You should know that scores and scores of alumni, as well as faculty members who came before us, are rejoicing because they dreamed of this day, and they committed to our programs even though they had no hope of benefitting from the exquisite experience of learning and working in a wonderful space like this. 

They left us a legacy of “excellence with anointing.”[1] It is our joy to carry on that tradition much more fully equipped because of your giving. In this room, we will continue to train students for artistic distinction and we will provide them with paths to professional fulfillment.

But we will also challenge them with holy questions -

questions like: “What are you doing with your for music?” . . .

questions like: “Whom are you loving with your music?[2]”

So I feel confident in telling you that by building this facility you have invested in students who will make a difference in this world and the next.

 

Like Miriam in the desert, they will teach their peers what and how to celebrate.[3]

Like Moses on the banks of the Jordan, they will sing out the history that should not be forgotten.[4]

Like Joshua at Jericho, they will play down walls that need to fall. [5]

Like David with Saul, they will calm the souls of the troubled. [6]

And like Paul and Silas in the dungeon, they will worship and God will move.[7]

We know these students, and that is what they’re going to do.

---

[1] Dr. Danny Tindall

[2] Br. Stefan Waligur

[3] Exodus 15

[4] Deuteronomy 31

[5] Joshua 6

[6] I Samuel 16

[7] Acts 16

Musical Gifts

All Saints' Episcopal Church, Lakeland

Recently, I had the privilege of playing my friend Stefan Waligur's song "Consider the Lilies" with a young friend at church. I was certain that the experience of this pure voice singing music that is so inviting to a sense of God's provision would be well worth the trip that morning and I thought of inviting friends on Facebook to join us for the service just to hear the song.

As the service unfolded, logistical details and various unknowns distracted us. The singing and the playing were okay, but they didn't rise to the level of specialness we had experienced in our rehearsals. And that's alright. I trust that what needed to be communicated was communicated.

That said, this occasion reminded me of two powerful truths.

1. The most meaningful moments of music making - the moments in which something breaks through to our souls and lets us know that some wonderfulness exists beyond our material lives - these moments often come in the practice room and the rehearsal space, not in the sanctuary or the concert hall with lots of listeners. This is an excellent reason to be involved in making music one's self!

2. If we supposedly mature musicians are feeling stressed or unfocused, we need intentionally to take time to provide what we are able to give the musicians around us: stability and a comfort zone, a platform for singing/playing into their potential. The same must be true of our teaching. By taking time and creating this space, we can grow the great "kin-dom" of peace which Jesus announced.

   

Slither Forth!

As some readers might know, I have spent several years developing a faith-integrating class piano curriculum based on the stories of St. Columba. Like many callings and creative projects, this "pilgrim of practice" found me, not the other way around.

How?

Blooms in a bog on Iona's Dun I

A number of friends associated with Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond and Grace Baptist Church (also located in Richmond, VA) shared their exposure to the renewal associated with the island of Iona where the Irish saint founded his monastery. Then, Kathy traveled to Iona, and as she traveled, I read about Scotland and was intrigued by the story of Columba and the monster of Ness. A few years passed during which I occasionally thought of writing a piano piece about the story. To commemorate the bicentennial of Liszt's birth, I finally wrote that solo piano "Columban Legend." Around that time, our adoptive son came to live with us. He had an interest in books and video games rooted in mythology and magic. I thought reading the stories of a saint like Columba might be a good faith-based connection point with him, so I ordered a copy of Adomnan's biography to share excerpts from time to time.  

One thing led to another and I started writing lots of little piano pieces. Last summer, Kathy and I traveled to a conference on Iona and that was a life-shaping experience. On that trip, I discovered the fun fact that the Robertson family has a historic association with Columba's community. This was a neat finding as my maternal grandmother was a Robertson.

With all this Columba-oriented engagement in my life, it stuck me that I have become involved in an informal Columban priesthood of sorts. I find myself interpreting my own Christian experience, and sometimes providing counsel, through my version of a Columban lens.

Image of Columba in the refectory at Iona Abbey

The Appeal of Columba
For those who aren't familiar with Columba, I offer the following brief explanation of my own interest.

There is a great deal in the life of Columba to intrigue a musician. He was a singer of penetrating sweetness and experienced something like glossolalic chanting on at least one occasion. He was also a composer and a compelling advocate for the class of bards when its very existence was at stake.

I am amazed by the number stories about Columba and I find that their details have potential for speaking to my own situations in a metaphorical fashion.

My Tradition
As a Baptist, my entrance into the Christian Faith was through an experience of being "born again." Jesus and Nicodemus had a discussion about that term in John 3. In the Baptist tradition, it has come to mean a moment of personal surrender through which Christ becomes both one's savior and lord. Something supernatural is believed to happen at this time, something that makes one's life new in the here and now.

From time to time, I long for a fresh deepening of this newness, and during a recent contemplative prayer gathering, that yearning returned. I found myself considering the little and big bits of obsessiveness and depressiveness and cynicism and sarcasm . . . in my life. I also thought on my experiences of wholesomeness and healing, beauty and peace. The result was that I wanted somehow to wallow before, but far below, God, and to slough off those essentially lifeless things, finally to rise up as a newer, better, truer me. I consider these desires, these impulses toward some spiritual movement, a blessing.


Slither Forth!

Snake-like forms on St. Martin's Cross

And then I found myself thinking of snakes.

Of course there's the serpent of Genesis who tempted us to estrangement from God, and there's the serpent lifted up in the wilderness for the healing of a wandering nation (also mentioned in John 3).

St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland,
or so it is said. For his part,
Columba blessed the snakes of Iona,
rendering them harmless.

It is my understanding that there is a Celtic tradition that views snakes in a positive light, as symbols of rebirth, in fact. What more vivid image could there be for the throwing off of the old self than that of a snake shedding its skin?

The snake must move forward to bring this about. And once the process is begun, there is really no way of going back.

While effort is required of the snake to complete this moulting, it does not happen at the whim of the snake. It happens when the time is right. It happens when that old self can be left behind.

The snake discovers and reveals its new self through many movements ranging from full-body convulsions to the tiny actions of individual scales.

The snake travels on, belly to the ground registering the gritty grains of sand. Its eyes straining to make out forms through the thick blades of grass, it knows best by listening, by feeling the vibrations of its world.

Occasionally it lifts itself or climbs for vision and sustenance.

And so
we too
slither forth.

In the Field

I have just returned from the last trip of the summer and now I'm looking forward to the 2015-2016 academic year. For the first time, I am blogging from my cottage in our music village.

For those who might not know, this “music village” is the temporary home of Southeastern’s department of music. We expect to be camping out here for the next twelve months while new facilities are being built. Our little neighborhood consists of 18 cottages that house practice rooms, offices, and storage plus three music-specific modular units – a music office and computer music lab, a percussion studio, and a keyboard lab.

Back to the summer’s trips - they were excellent and involved a Christian summer music festival exploring the significance of diversity in Christian theology, a trip to New York with Kathy’s girls choir, and a great church music conference in New Orleans followed by a wedding deep in Cajun country. These journeys reminded me of the great big world that’s out there. They also challenged, inspired, energized, and focused me in new ways. That said, I believe the transformation that needs to happen within me will occur over the course of many days and weeks of hard work here in Cottage 16.

At the end of the school year, we moved from our old buildings (which no longer exist) to temporary structures in the field on the north end of campus. The process required that we look at every single item that had come to find a comfy, if crowded, home in the old facilities, and determine which things should be carried into the field with us. A number of things were left behind as they no longer served a purpose or were proving to be unnecessary weights as we moved forward. Now that we are in the village, there is more sorting to do.

Just as the physical move provided an occasion for this great house cleaning, I think our move into the village also provides an opportunity for each of us to undertake a more important spiritual inventory.

There are many good things we need to take into the village with us, but it is also an ideal time to consider what things we would like to leave behind. We might even find some treasures in this field that will enrich our lives together when we move into our new home next year.

I encourage everyone who will be spending time in the village to invite the Spirit to shine light on the things that might be good to leave behind. A list of several that have occurred to me might help with other folks' self-evaluations.

Lack of discipline in worship or prayer

Unwillingness to be shaped by the Spirit

The tendency to feed anxieties

Expectations built on old relationships

Attitudes that contribute to cliquishness and sarcasm

 

To some extent, the daily life of our department has been drawn out into the light of day because our village is now in this field. Most of our nearest neighbors have never lived this close to our community before. The logistics of the move and the rearrangement of where we are on campus have resulted in lots of folks meeting and interacting who had only heard of each other before.

I am hoping that more good things can come from this dynamic in the year ahead.  

I am imagining the worshipful sounds of hard work emanating from our village and lifting up those around us. I am dreaming that the activity of our neighborhood will convey not so much a sense of talents or giftedness but qualities of sweetness and listening. I am praying that we will become aware of the presence of God as we move through our narrow streets.

Glencairn

I've blogged before about the role Glencairn Gardens played in the formation of my aesthetics.

In June, I revisited this lovely spot and now I'm blogging what was the stream of consciousness at that time.



Stereo fountains and green-screened trails

solitary benches for pondering and prayer

hidden lawns where youngsters cuddle

and bridges for meetings real and imagined

 


A coming-of-age place


a garden for grown-ups, too -


strong willows and sunlit cypresses
where thrushes stir at midday

rich growth on rugged ground

plus color wheels and sundials
for the children we now raise

Carolina senses springing up

and stately re-restatements of timeless themes

A place for resting

and the flags under which we live

An aging veteran watches a hawk make circles
while a little ballerina echoes her mother's movements
posing for a picture they'll always have

Here are feelings of ancient places by the water

massive stones

unseen snakes

turtles cruising in bubbly streams

and untamed flora framing a creek-bed

 
I return to shady camellia paths

and see old borders open onto new vistas