October 2012
October 27
This is no ordinary musical period
October 27, 2012
TORONTO - It’s hard to believe, watching John Edwards cradle his giant lute-like theorbo, that the music he is playing could be considered anything but sacred. As he moves his fingers over the instrument’s neck, the delicate strains of Monteverdi that blossom are both rapturous and heavenly. However, as Edwards notes, these divine melodies were often the product of secular compositions that hoped to draw in churchgoers during the Catholic Church’s Counter-Reformation. “While the Protestants are doing three-hour sermons, the mention of the Baroque is sort of for the Counter-Reformation to put ‘sparkly things’ to draw you in that way,” laughs Edwards, one part of The Musicians in Ordinary, who have been commissioned by the University of St. Michael’s College to conduct the Principal’s Music Series for the 2012-13 season. The series launched Oct. 23. St. Michael’s is acting as a patron of the event, which will serve not only as a one-of-a-kind concert opportunity for students, but also function as an educational exploration of a remarkable period in musical history. The Musicians in Ordinary are a two-person ensemble of John Edwards, on the towering, lute-like theorbo, and soprano Hallie Fishel. Joined by some of Toronto’s pre-eminent Baroque musicians, Edwards and Fishel will be presenting four concerts that explore the music of the Renaissance and Baroque periods that often times blurred the lines between sacred and secular. As an example, Edwards displays an image of The Ecstasy of St. Theresa, a famous marble sculpture by Bernini, that is at once a display of reverence and sensuality. The idea, explains Edwards, was for the Church to capitalize on the popularity of the Baroque esthetic that would appeal to the general population as they attended church as well. “That was what they were aiming for: to draw the people in. So, it seemed... that they were seeing it as giving the public at large an access to the arts, in a way,” said Edwards. “I think that one of the things, with the Counter-Reformation, they try and use Mary as a ‘selling point’ to draw you in.” Monteverdi, one of the most popular composers of the time, is featured in the series’ opening concert, along with works by Barbara Strozzi, a courtesan, and Isabella Leonardi, an Ursuline nun, among others. It seems a great study in contrast to hear the works of a courtesan, who writes in her “O Maria”: “She has conformed the hearts of all to her virtue, and she delights in the heritage of the Lord.” “Luckily they’re inventing opera at the same time, and Monteverdi was an opera composer,” said Edwards. “So he’s using the same tricks as he would use to make you fall in love with Orfeo that he uses those to make you fall in love with the Virgin Mary.” Monteverdi (who in addition to being a popular opera composer was also the maestro di cappella at St. Mark’s in Venice) was a composer whose work was a foremost example of the transition between the polyphony of the Renaissance to the sheer emotionalism and complexity of Baroque music. This fit perfectly into the Counter-Reformation’s integration of secular elements to reinforce the faith. “In some ways it’s similar to today; there’s a lot of changes in society... all of a sudden they have access to information. There are all these changes in the music, so how do you integrate things like this? We have some of the same problems in church music today,” said Edwards. Take Monteverdi’s “Nigra sum,” for example, with text like: “I am black but comely, daughters of Jerusalem. Therefore the king has delighted in me and brought me to his chamber and said to me, ‘Arise, my love, and come.’ ” This particular piece is from his Mass for six voices to the Most Holy Virgin, which Monteverdi notes is “suitable for the chapels or chambers of princes.” It seems unlikely we would hear such textual interpretation today. “I think the music in this concert is composed so successfully that I think it can show us something too,” said Edwards of its lasting effect. Along with Fishel and Edwards, audiences of the series will be able to see performances by Tafelmusik’s Christopher Verrette and Patricia Ahern (Baroque violin), and the noted organist Philip Fournier (organist and music director at St. Vincent de Paul Church). Additionally, several of the concerts in the series will feature pre-performance talks by some of the leading scholars in the field. “That scholarship that we’ve been doing with these different people... it’s silly to do scholarship on the cultural context of performance, and then not do the music,” said Edwards. “Luckily, with our residency at St. Mike’s, that’s given us a place to present some of this stuff to a real audience.” For more see www.musiciansinordinary.ca or www.stmikes. utoronto.ca.
October 28
Kateri teaches us to have hope
October 28, 2012
St. Kateri teaches us our response in faith to Jesus Christ brings healing, said Edmonton Archbishop Richard Smith at a Thanksgiving Mass in Rome Oct. 22. “Among the most striking aspects of her witness is the miraculous transformation of her face soon after her death,” said the president of the Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops (CCCB) in his homily at St. John Lateran, Rome’s cathedral church. “From the age of four, terribly scarred by the smallpox, her face was restored to its original beauty only minutes after she had died.” Smith noted Kateri said “Jesus, I love you,” just before she died, showing how her response to Christ’s love preceded the healing. “How greatly do we need this lesson from Kateri today,” he said. “We may not bear physical scars, but so many today carry deep emotional and psychological ones. “These are inflicted not by smallpox but by poverty, addiction, loneliness and betrayal. They are caused by the abuse suffered by Kateri’s modern-day sisters and brothers in their time at residential schools,” he said. “So much pain, so many emotional scars. Yet Kateri teaches us that no wound, however deep, should leave us without hope.” The archbishop called the facial healing “an outward sign of the interior transformation that is given to all who hand over their lives to Christ, and who do so in love.” The Mass, televised live by Salt + Light Television, drew more than 2,500 people, many of them Canadian pilgrims. Almost 20 Canadian bishops were present, including concelebrants Bishop Lionel Gendron and Auxiliary Bishop Louis Dicaire of Saint Jean-Longueuil, who serve the diocese that includes the Mohawk territory where St. Kateri died. The all-party delegation led by Canada’s Speaker of the House of Commons, Andrew Scheer, attended as did Canada’s ambassador to the Holy See, Anne Leahy. “The meeting of God’s loving initiative with a grace-filled human response is on beautiful display in the life of St. Kateri,” said Smith, who said her name Tekakwitha was one of the earliest signs. Tekakwitha has a variety of interpretations: “she who feels her way ahead,” “moving forward slowly,” “one who bumps into things,” but also “one who places things in order” or “to put all into place,” the archbishop said. “It is, of course, true that Kateri’s physical sight was seriously compromised due to the smallpox from which she suffered,” he said. “What is equally true, however, and what is of far greater significance, is that her inner vision was clear. “Deep within her heart she had received the gift of seeing clearly the truth of Christ and His Church. It is as if God, through the very name Tekakwitha and the life of the one who bore it, has drawn attention to the limits of human vision in order to point us to the true sight that comes from faith.” Smith tied the canonization of North America’s first female indigenous saint with the Year of Faith and the Synod on New Evangelization taking place in Rome until Oct. 28. “Kateri reminds us that this new evangelization, to be effective, must not only be proposed anew but also find an open and ready welcome in the heart of the recipient,” he said. “When the Jesuit missionary, Fr. de Lamberville, spoke of our Lord and the Christian faith, the Gospel message of life and hope found a home within her.” He called Kateri’s response to the Gospel message a “work of grace.” “Only with the help of God’s grace are we able, like Kateri, to make of our entire lives a living and pleasing sacrifice to God, as St. Paul exhorts us to do,” he said. “Only with divine assistance do we become, like Kateri, the mothers, brothers and sisters of Christ by doing the will of His — and our — heavenly Father.” An estimated 1,500 Canadian pilgrims attended the canonization in St. Peter’s Square, most of them from First Nations and other aboriginal communities. Among the 17 Canadian bishops was Toronto Cardinal Thomas Collins. “Throughout her short life, St. Kateri never abandoned her faith,” said Prime Minister Stephen Harper in an Oct. 21 statement. “The canonization of St. Kateri is a great honour and joyous occasion for the many North Americans and aboriginal peoples who cherish her witness of faith and strength of character. The Government of Canada stands with those who are celebrating her life on this day in Canada, the United States and throughout the world.” The canonization Mass Pope Benedict XVI celebrated Oct. 21 is available via the cccb.ca web site or at www.saltandlighttv.org.
October 29
October 30
October 31
Death makes us present to Christ
October 31, 2012
A funeral draws us into eternal life that Jesus’ death made possible A friend described a memorial service he’d attended. He was directed to a room with a video screen to watch images of the service happening elsewhere. Increasingly, memorials occur with little or no physical connection to the dead. Last year, I searched the rooms of a funeral parlour for several minutes before realizing there was no body at the wake. This approach to death may be enlightened and compassionate. We “celebrate” the dead person’s life; we remember their aliveness, and all that made them dear to us. We look around or over death as though it weren’t there. We make a toast, and carry on. It’s a determinedly cheery approach. Is it a Christian approach? Varied, even competing, views of death abound. It’s seen as the final terminus of physical life, a passage to God, an illusion, a cure for suffering, the thing we all fear most, a glorious destiny, a means of punishment. Our attitudes to death speak about our attitudes to life. Oftentimes memorials tell us “do not mourn,” “do not weep.” St. Paul, on the contrary, doesn’t tell us not to grieve, but urges, “do not grieve as those who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). What is the Christian hope? That we’ll remember the good things of our beloved deceased? That we won’t have to mourn? That they didn’t really die? That we won’t die, or won’t suffer in dying? An atheist I know says of death: “they close the lid, and that’s it.” He at least has the courage to confront nothingness. Such courage may have a better chance of moving God than pretending death doesn’t exist, or ignoring the questions and discomforts it presents. Entering the unknown requires a true letting-go. Jesus’ friends didn’t learn to forget Him after His death; they didn’t find closure. Following His lead on the cross, they surrendered into it, and this opened everything, including their hearts. They learned, and told us, that love is stronger than death. The Gospels go to great lengths to show that Jesus really died. He bled. He suffered. His breath stopped. His body was broken. It was taken lifeless from the cross, and placed in a tomb. It was really there. He was dead. Like Lazarus before Him, so long dead that the smell of death hung around. Whatever the Gospels are about, they haven’t been passed down through 2,000 years to help us think death away. Nor to seek death as an antidote — or a tool in the tool kit of physicians, or of the state. Death isn’t an answer to suffering, to mental illness, to sin or crime or disability or imperfection. It’s an implacable, irrevocable reality that applies equally to us all. Because sin entered the world, through human hearts and actions, therefore we are broken and divided by death. Death, remorseless and anguish-producing, is a witness of the rupture between ourselves and God, by which we also become enemies of one another. Confronted by His friend’s death, Jesus was moved to tears, not to celebrating Lazarus’ life or telling the dead man’s sisters to look for their brother in the next room. He didn’t treat death as a balm or pretence. He acted against it, thereby foreshadowing the real Good News: that when He Himself lay dead in the tomb, it couldn’t hold Him. He was so alive that death itself broke. We don’t get around death, but through it. Though it may be painful, we need to contemplate death — together, not alone; with Christ, not without Him; with all the helps the Church can give. Especially in November, the Catholic Church invites us to spend time with the dead, and to stand at the edge of death. We don’t stand there alone: the veil between the living and the dead is thin. This truth is echoed in the back-to-back solemnity of All Saints and commemoration of All Souls which usher us into November. We pray to and for the dead, inviting them to be present to us. C.S. Lewis (The Great Divorce) suggests the reason we can’t perceive the dead isn’t because they’re insubstantial, like ghosts. It’s because they are super-substantial, so solid, so alive, that we seem insubstantial to them. They died; death is real. More real, more solid than death is love. There is a communion between people through death. Universally, a funeral or memorial service includes eating and drinking. Food is the way we live communion. It helps us receive Eucharist, and deepen our communion with the One who has died, risen and broken the lock of death. A Catholic funeral isn’t a celebration of a dead person’s life. It’s a eucharistic service which makes us present to Christ. It draws us into the eternal life-with-God that Christ makes possible. This is our hope, that in our surrender to death — the little deaths-to-self, the deaths of persons we know and letting-go into our own death — we meet Christ who conquered death. (Marrocco can be reached at [email protected].)