Poetry, Music, and Truth Intertwined...

Poetry, as the bridge between language and music, is uniquely capable of expressing the deeper truths of human existence. The following poem is not only a touching call from woman to woman, but also a call across the ages to all of humanity. Written by the American nun Sister Columba Guare, it also received a lovely musical setting by California-based composer, Frank La Rocca (himself a convert to Catholicism.) I share the poem and piece with you now, with the hopes of enriching your day.

O Eve!


My mother, my daughter, life-giving Eve,


Do not be ashamed, do not grieve.


The former things have passed away,


Our God has brought us to a New Day.


See, I am with Child,


Through whom all will be reconciled.


O Eve! My sister, my friend,


We will rejoice together


Forever


Life without end.


— Sr. Columba Guare copyright© 2005 Sisters of the Mississippi Abbey

New book on Art, Music, and Faith!

The Holy Father is set to release his next book, in which he will meditate on art, music, and the path of faith.  It promises to be a goldmine of contemplation.  Here is the most recent press release through CNA:

http://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/holy_father_reflects_on_love_for_music_art_in_new_book/

Listening to the Infinite

I have become increasingly conscious of the deeper relationship between an artist as creator and the experience possible when one listens to the final product in a deep and uninterrupted sense.  Perhaps this is an experience only quantifiable as a composer, but I think it brings great hope to the dedicated listener.

I've been aware, at numerous times in my life, of establishing a near connection with the composer of a particular piece.  When I met Henryk Gorecki a few years back in his home, somehow very little about the composer's personality was surprising to me.  I felt a kinship with the man, and felt spiritually linked to him by several of his most contemplative works (which, incidentally, had become a permanent and intimate soundtrack in my life.)

Lest this sound all too strange and (unfortunately) hippy-ish to you, I think that there is a way to quantify the experience.  As a composer, our pieces grow out of specific places.  There is a seed of thought which births the initial feelings and intents behind a piece of music.  When the piece is particularly inspired, we feel particularly moved to be able to even begin to participate in the act of bringing it to life.  As a Catholic, I cannot help but feel that the Holy Spirit has a direct input on these matters, and that many such pieces spring from a place where the temporal and eternal worlds meet.

A thoughtful listener, therefore, can access this place.  Yet this is not an understanding that can be accessed through a technical or theoretical understanding of the music.  Neither a piercing harmonic analysis or an advanced biographical knowledge of the composer will lead you to the place of a work's genesis.  Quite contrary to what music education may imply, the deeper experience must come from a more humble experience of the music.  While technical knowledge is always helpful, it must eventually be left far behind when a person truly submits to a piece.  The journey to the genesis-point of a work is as unpretentious a spiritual experience we can have, because no intellectual discourse can describe or quantify the experience.  Yet when we arrive there, we meet the composer once again, hovering near the place of inspiration, gently awaiting a whisper of the infinite to issue forth...

What We Have Lost

Already the lessons of this journey begin to emerge, and I feel as one who has been allowed to step outside of the mad rush of modern life in order to learn to live more fully. Surely, I am very busy. Surely, there are many challenges before me. Yet something is different.

I have always understood, even if intuitively, what we have lost as a Western culture. It was only later that what I learned confirmed my intuition. Now, I am beginning to feel what I have understood, and therefore understanding on an entirely different level.

In my previous blog, I wrote about the choral Mysterium I witnessed, and how it managed to fulfill a deep human need found scarcely anywhere outside of the realms of religion and art.

Over-skeptics, atheists, and doubters of all sort will be quick to counter that my religious sentiment is no more than a product of evolution, an evolved condition for my own personal comfort as well as for social cohesion.

I will be quick to counter that the deification of natural selection is far more bizarre than the belief in a higher power. If natural selection is truly so precise, then it makes no sense that mankind would have evolved a contentious "sense of things" for which he would also have to evolve a religious need as an opiate. No, my friends, this is far too complex, and hardly the most elegant solution to the matter.

Nor do I think that the being who willed us into existence is above dabbling in the very genetic code he created. If religious need be genetic, if emotions be entirely chemical, then it was meant to be so. It is exceptionally odd and short-sighted that learned men would assign to us a religious need borne out of randomness. Such men, for all their learning and degrees, are no more profound than bleating sheep and stubborn children.

Last night I attended Mass in yet another ancient Cathedral. This time the crowd numbered well over two thousand young people, all eagerly crowded around four Dominican Priests. In a country viciously under attack by secularism and liberalism, this was a stunning witness of faith from the generation on the cusp of taking power. The feeling in the Church bordered on ecstasy (aided along by a wonderful musical presentation and vivid homily.) And I was reminded of what we have lost.

In the west, we have lost the sense of origin. We are, for better or worse, the wayward creations of a higher power. While we constantly emphasize the grand potential of these "imperfect creatures," we are quick to forget how quickly this potential can go astray. The 20th century was, if nothing else, a material confirmation of the doctrine of original sin. Perhaps our current economic crisis is no more than a gentle reminder?

We need help. We need guidance. We need to take a day a week to slow down, take a deep breath, and bring our frail selves before the creator. We need grace to learn, grace to persevere, grace to live in the moment, grace to be kind, grace to know when to fight, grace to know when to back away, grace to know when we are wrong, grace to confess our wrongs, and grace to even begin to approach the image of a decent life.

This is not religious fanaticism, nor is it the sort of sentiment which breeds oppression. It is a simple and comprehensive knowledge, available to any person with the courage to truly examine the human condition.

Why Art Must be Sacred

The twentieth-century gleam of lights dimmed suddenly, leaving only the ancient reverberation of candlelight on the walls of the 15th century cathedral. Choristers were gathered in the very highest portions of the grand old building, slowly floating the opening strains of "Silent Night" down onto the people below.

In mid-phrase, the immense organ boomed suddenly, shaking the very stones of the cathedral as lights revealed another choir which had snuck-up to the main stage. And so it went for over three hours on the evening of February 2nd, in Sczecin, Poland (Christmas is celebrated from Dec 25th-to Feb 2nd here, unlike our early American start.)

All sacred music and carols, performed with the expressed intent of inspiring the highest emotions in the audience before them. Even more shocking to me as an American was the fact that the main choir came from a secular state university. It was one of the many refreshing differences I have found in this country which is still unafraid to believe and to proclaim that belief in the public square.

I was also struck by the profound aesthetic experience of it all, and this brings me to the main point in this blog. Such high art, performed so well, would have lost the majority of its power if it were simply relegated to the realm of "aesthetic experience." Aesthetic experience, divorced from religious sentiment, becomes nothing more than the enjoyment of our biological reaction to beautiful sound. The reason art must be sacred is quite simple: because it is precisely the sacredness possible in art -- what Ives and others termed the "transcendent" element of their craft" -- that gives it meaning. The divorce of art, science, and public policy from the realm of faith has neutered these endeavors, making them self-serving and ultimately aimless beyond the immediate satisfaction of carnal needs.

Simply put, people of faith are able to hear "something much, much more" in Ives' Concord Sonata, in Beethoven's 7th Symphony, or in Gorecki's third symphony.

I left the Mysterium concert joyful, yet feeling a profound sense of loss for my own country. How can it be that a nation founded by believers could lack such public expressions of the cornerstone of our great society?

In a world that teaches me that I am no more than an animal, I was reminded that I am certainly much more than the flesh which contains me. I was reminded of desires that move beyond the carnal, of thoughts that move beyond the psychological oversimplifications of neo-Darwinists, and of an origin and destiny which my soul yearns to acknowledge even if the world seeks to forget.

This is how art once inspired the best in people.

Such inspiration cannot rise from the personal or the carnal, but rather must come from above. It is in this arena that much modern creativity has failed, and it is little wonder that so many remain indifferent to the self-centered ramblings of eccentrics choosing to remain on the fringe of society. Simply put, it doesn't have to be this way.

We already have the right answer, but are too stubborn to embrace it.