Century-old Music Leads to Reflection about Today

The thoughts below are what I was referring to in my last entry when I said I was thinking about something, but it would be a few days before I got it developed. Well, it took longer than I expected, but here's what was behind my "promise."
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The other day one of our community archivists found a fascinating piece of music in some old files. Called “St. Walburg’s Academy Grand Jubilee March,” it was by S. Mazurette, and was “composed expressly for and respectfully dedicated to the pupils of St. Walburg's Academy, Covington, KY." The occasion was the 25th anniversary of the academy in 1888. This tickled my research bone. Who was Mazurette and how did he happen to compose a piece for our small academy in Covington?

When I discovered that Salomon Mazurette was a Canadian, born in Montreal in 1847, it raised even more questions. Did someone local know him and commission the piece? Turns out the composer lived and worked in Paris. Did he  know his contemporary Frank Duveneck, a Covington-born artist who at one time lived around the corner from St. Walburg Monastery? He became a renowned painter who taught in Germany and lived in Paris for a while. Could Duveneck have crossed paths with the internationally recognized Mazurette in Europe? Or could it have happened in Cincinnati where the artist  taught and the musician may have come on  tour or to see his music publisher?

This jubilee march written almost 125 years ago has raised questions that reveal how small a world it was, even a century ago.  It shows that the connections we make today thru Facebook, LinkedIn, and other social media are not new, just accelerated. You may have heard that there are just 6 degrees of separation between any one individual and any other one individual on the planet. Though not proven to scientific satisfaction, this theory still points to the reality that each individual touches other individuals who in turn touch others, and this creates the fabric of humanity. One thread can’t be pulled without affecting others; together we form the connective tissue of the human race.

Many philosophers, poets, and theologians have expressed this reality. Poet John Donne wrote that “No man is an island…every man is part of the continent”.  St. Paul says the body consists of many members, and “if the whole body were just an eye, how would there be any hearing?”   

Who would have anticipated that finding a century-old piece of sheet music would lead to reflecting on the connections between individuals across time and space? Today’s social media have exponentially increased both the number of  links as well as our awareness of them. There is a downside, however. There is evidence that while individuals purposely increase the number of people with whom they link, they are, at the same time, unintentionally decreasing the depth of these relationships. (Can one equally nurture 50 – 1000 “friends”?)

For me, the dusty music discovery leads to this contemporary question: Can I use Facebook and other digital communications in a way that deepens my humanity and increases the quality of my relationships? This is one link I’m really going to be looking for.

a KY monk

Some Good Dream Quotes

It sure has been a while since I've written here. I have an idea I want to reflect on, but probably won't get to it for a few days. Meanwhile, in working on my expectations and dream entry for our community's blog (http://stwalburg.blogspot.com/), I came across some really nice quotes that I don't want to let slip away.

* "Dream your dreams with open eyes and make them come true."  - T.E. Lawrence
*  "We grow great by dreams.
    "All big men are dreamers. They see things in the soft haze of a spring day or in the red fire of a long winter's evening. Some of us let these great dreams die, but others nourish and protect them; nurse them through bad days 'til they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true."  - Woodrow Wilson
* "God gives us dreams a size too big so that we can grow into them." - Unknown
* "The world is moving so fast these days that the man who says it can't be done is generally interrupted by someone doing it."  - Harry Emerson Fosdick [Amazing quote since he lived 1878-1969.]
* "What is now proved was once imagined." - William Blake
*" What we need is more people who specialize in the impossible." - Theodore Roethke
* The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." - Eleanor Roosevelt

A KY monk

The Challenge of Christmas Presents

Every year there's a similar debate in my family: what to do about Christmas gifts.

In the old days everyone gave presents to everyone. We all gathered in the living room - grandparents  to grandkids - for the exchange ritual. The youngest would have already opened their presents from Santa Claus. Then someone would pass out the wrapped gifts from under the tree. When most folks had at least one gift, someone gave the cue to start opening. The trick, however, was that the next person had to wait until the first gift was opened and everyone had her chance to ooh and ahhh.

Over the years we've modified this practice, trying to keep the original spirit. As families multiplied and the economy contracted, we've grappled with how to maintain the best parts of our tradition. (Tradition is big in our family!) This year it seems really hard. With more family members living farther away & the housing and jobs pain affecting many, what to do is more difficult to decide.

I was pondering why this question keeps coming up. Why can't we decide once and for all? One reason seems to be change.  Living families are always changing, so practicalities have to change with them. Another factor is that love & appreciation often compete with responsibilities and logistics at times like this. At Christmas we want to demonstrate to certain people that we care about them. As families expand into new generations, there are more and more people in our circle of care and responsibility. Put this in the context of changing membership, economics, travel, etc. and it becomes a mix that is sometimes hard to sort out.

Complicating things even more is the fact that Christmas is a time of heightened emotion for many people. It brings to the surface memories and sentiments that lie dormant much of the year. When this intensified sensitivity is the backdrop for often complex decisions about family gatherings, one has a formula pretty certain to cause pain, anger and/or frustration somewhere in the group.

In our idealization of Christmas with its charming crib scenes, delightful music, and Christmas card happiness I think we can easily overlook that love is often the source of much suffering. I think it was St.  Teresa of Avila who said to God: "If this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!"
That baby in the crib stepped from eternal glory into a time-bound life with few faithful friends and pain beyond our understanding. He wanted to bring divine Love into our lives and make us brothers and sisters to each other, but the path was that of the cross.

Maybe our attempts to grapple with Christmas gatherings are, in a small way, reminders that real love carries a price tag that's rarely, if ever, discounted. When we think of the Christ Child as God's gift of infinite love, we need to remember that his cross and ours is hidden in that crib.

I'm glad I thought about this. It may help me be more patient as we try to figure out who's having Christmas this year and what are we doing about presents.

a KY monk

Frustration as a learning tool!

This has been one of those days / weeks / set of weeks where feeling swamped is common. Deadlines, goals, ideals, time contraints and other things are all in competition.  Frustration, fatigue, and puzzlement about what to tackle next  are all struggling for preeminence. What on earth can I learn from times like this?

Well, I'm going to take a pause in midst of it all and think about that.
1. I can be motivated to learn more patience -- with myself and with others.
2. I can re-learn that my way is not the only way to think about things.
3. I can be reminded that the first way of tackling a problem may not be the best way.
4. I can be forcibly pushed by my energy level to stop now and then and let my body and mind take a break.
5. I can experience once again that I'm neither invincible or perfect (as if I needed the reminder?!?!?!)

If I stayed at this longer, more lessons would likely come to mind, but I have to get back to the melee. I'll be hoping that at least some of these reminders linger and help me thru the tangle. God's Spirit is in it with me, I know. I'll try to be more receptive.

a ky monk

Can love be taught?

Tonight I was struck by a phrase from the first letter of St. John. It basically said that the reason we can love is because God loved us first.

This is a familiar quote, but for some reason, tonight it caught my ear. Is it true that a person cannot be taught to love? That he or she can only learn love by being loved? I tend to think there is a lot of truth in that.

How would I teach someone to love without demonstrating it by my example? I have a hard time imagining that learning real love is an academic exercise. No, instead, I think it's an exercise of giving. Through a parent, grandparent, another relative, a friend, even a pet -- someone or something shows us what it means to love. When we experience this, our own heart discovers a model for learning how to give itself to someone else.

The next step comes, I believe, when we learn that this love has its roots in God's boundless giving of Self to us. This infinite love takes in the entire human family, indeed all of creation. One can be taught this in theory, but only lived experience, I believe, lets us take it into ourselves and realize its meaning.

At least that's what struck me this evening.

a ky monk

After I wrote what I did yesterday about memory & its wonderful treasures, I had some second thoughts. All memories aren't treasures to be relished. Some carry only darkness -- painful, scarey, embarrassing, or tragic things from our past.

I've never really pondered why the chemisty and psychology of our minds hold on to our past. Why are some parts of of our personal history accessible at the merest suggestion and other parts buried so deep we can't get to them, if we even know they are there?

Professional psychologists may have answers to this question; I don't. I do know, however, that even a dark memory can sometimes be a gift. In this kind of memory I have seen parts of myself or other people that I wasn't aware of, and this insight has been a stepping stone to growth. For example, seeing new things about myself or others gives me new tools for developing or sustaining relationships. Then too, maybe I'll be more patient with myself or someone else; maybe I'll see something good I'd not been conscious of. Could all this be an example of the old truism: "It's always darkest before the dawn"?

a KY monk

Moon Thoughts from Memory's Treasure Chest

This morning I was walking up to the monastery in the dark; a bright light caught my eye. I looked up and there was the moon, a perfectly round, burnt orange disk stuck in the sky surrounded by blackness. Wow! It was so low over the city skyline it looked as if it could get caught in the trees or on the tip of a skyscraper. A breath-grabbing sight.

Then my mind started pulling out memories from my childhood, two in particular. One was one evening at home; I guess I was in grade school. I looked out the back door of our house up to the hill behind us and commented how pretty the moon was. My dad laughed and said, "That a porch light." (Obviously I didn't have my glasses on!!!!)

Another moon memory that emerged came from my freshman year in high school. That year I wrote a 2-line poem that has stuck with me ever since. I remember sharing it with my English teacher:
             I saw the moon a-leisure on through the cloud-filled sky,
             and stopped and thought within myself," What a God have I."

Isn't it fascinating where our mind can take us at the merest provocation? One thing, a gorgeous moon, brought back memories of home, a delightful father, school, and a great teacher. What treasures we carry around within us, just waiting to be relished at precious moments in our harried days or quiet nights. Something to be grateful for, right?

a KY monk