21 October 2008
Des Moines 2008
Finishing the Des Moines Marathon, 19 October 2008. I'm the yellow shirt crossing at 4:17:14. Official time, 4:15:09.
13 October 2008
Hail Mary?
One of my students has posted on his blog a thoughtful concern about a decision I've made to alter the text of the Biebl Ave Maria, replacing the "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death" with the Latin text of the Gloria Patri (I stole the idea from Charles Smith, former director of the Calvin College Alumni Choir, who probably struggled with this then as I do now). The Biebl is one of the most gorgeous pieces of music ever written, and I understand the student's point. In fact, I recall feeling the same pangs of righteous indignation when we had to remove all the "gosh's" and "golly's" and especially the "darn's" from our high school theatre productions. Art is art, after all, and should be allowed to stand on its own, right?
Well, yes, but ... a few thoughts:
First, doing art in community, at least (perhaps especially) in a Christian community, changes things. I do believe that I have an obligation to be "my brother's keeper" in how I do my art. In this case, some will already have a problem with us doing an "Ave Maria" at all, since I've done them before and gotten flak for it before. I need to balance the aesthetic "needs" of the community in which I work with what they're able to digest. That isn't to say that art can't be challenging (or "prophetic"), but when it comes to a doctrine that would be significantly different from that held by the community in which I work, the potential for damage here outweighs the benefits. In Music Through the Eyes of Faith, Harold Best says it better than I could: "When a Christian musician goes about making music, the concept of community/body should drive every note and every moment in which every note is heard. And the only object for every Christian musician is to build the body up into the stature and fullness of its head, Jesus Christ."
Second, these are my students and I'm responsible for them, at least so long as they sit in my rehearsal room or sing what I've asked them to in concerts. I'm putting words into their mouths, and, unlike in a public school setting, I'm actually asking (hoping, praying) that they do believe what I'm asking them to sing. We are a Reformed college, not a Catholic college, and our belief is that we don't need Mary or anyone else to pray for us; the priesthood of all believers is such that, though Christ's atoning work, we now need no intermediary -- the curtain in the Temple has been torn and we have direct access, in Christ's name, to the Father. That's scripturally sound; in fact, the only reference that I can think of in which someone else prays on our behalf is when we don't know how/what to pray, and "the Spirit intercedes for us, in sighs (groans) too deep for words."
Having said this, I must acknowledge that I think that we Protestants have given Mary short shrift. In our desire to steer clear of Marianism, we've relegated Mary to a second-class character in the biblical narrative, when she should be right up there with Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and all the others through whom God's redemptive work has been accomplished.
An interesting side note is that the rise in Marianism is concurrent with the notion of "Courtly Love." In the Middle Ages, when a Lord would leave his manor (probably to fight the battles of some Duke, Earl, or Prince) he left the place in his Lady's keeping, but guarded by a knight who often pined for her in pure unrequited, unattainable love. Thus were a pile of poems composed, all extolling the beauty and purity of the Lady, whose unattainability lent even more to her appeal. And who could be more unattainable, more pure than Mary, chosen of God to bear His Son? Thank you, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux.
Finally, if my choice comes down to doing the piece with the text slightly altered or not doing it at all, I'm OK with the alteration. The music is too good, too rich, too powerful to leave only for Catholics or those who don't care if they do or don't believe what they sing to experience.
But one more thing: the student points out that we Reformed folk have done a lousy job writing prayers of beauty and I agree. Usually our corporate prayers are something along the lines of a Christmas wish list, delivered up to the lap of our Santa-like God; otherwise, public prayers too often take the form of the "just wanna" prayer ("We just wanna" this, "I just wanna" that, etc.). We can and should do better.
Well, yes, but ... a few thoughts:
First, doing art in community, at least (perhaps especially) in a Christian community, changes things. I do believe that I have an obligation to be "my brother's keeper" in how I do my art. In this case, some will already have a problem with us doing an "Ave Maria" at all, since I've done them before and gotten flak for it before. I need to balance the aesthetic "needs" of the community in which I work with what they're able to digest. That isn't to say that art can't be challenging (or "prophetic"), but when it comes to a doctrine that would be significantly different from that held by the community in which I work, the potential for damage here outweighs the benefits. In Music Through the Eyes of Faith, Harold Best says it better than I could: "When a Christian musician goes about making music, the concept of community/body should drive every note and every moment in which every note is heard. And the only object for every Christian musician is to build the body up into the stature and fullness of its head, Jesus Christ."
Second, these are my students and I'm responsible for them, at least so long as they sit in my rehearsal room or sing what I've asked them to in concerts. I'm putting words into their mouths, and, unlike in a public school setting, I'm actually asking (hoping, praying) that they do believe what I'm asking them to sing. We are a Reformed college, not a Catholic college, and our belief is that we don't need Mary or anyone else to pray for us; the priesthood of all believers is such that, though Christ's atoning work, we now need no intermediary -- the curtain in the Temple has been torn and we have direct access, in Christ's name, to the Father. That's scripturally sound; in fact, the only reference that I can think of in which someone else prays on our behalf is when we don't know how/what to pray, and "the Spirit intercedes for us, in sighs (groans) too deep for words."
Having said this, I must acknowledge that I think that we Protestants have given Mary short shrift. In our desire to steer clear of Marianism, we've relegated Mary to a second-class character in the biblical narrative, when she should be right up there with Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and all the others through whom God's redemptive work has been accomplished.
An interesting side note is that the rise in Marianism is concurrent with the notion of "Courtly Love." In the Middle Ages, when a Lord would leave his manor (probably to fight the battles of some Duke, Earl, or Prince) he left the place in his Lady's keeping, but guarded by a knight who often pined for her in pure unrequited, unattainable love. Thus were a pile of poems composed, all extolling the beauty and purity of the Lady, whose unattainability lent even more to her appeal. And who could be more unattainable, more pure than Mary, chosen of God to bear His Son? Thank you, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux.
Finally, if my choice comes down to doing the piece with the text slightly altered or not doing it at all, I'm OK with the alteration. The music is too good, too rich, too powerful to leave only for Catholics or those who don't care if they do or don't believe what they sing to experience.
But one more thing: the student points out that we Reformed folk have done a lousy job writing prayers of beauty and I agree. Usually our corporate prayers are something along the lines of a Christmas wish list, delivered up to the lap of our Santa-like God; otherwise, public prayers too often take the form of the "just wanna" prayer ("We just wanna" this, "I just wanna" that, etc.). We can and should do better.
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