RSCM Report: an End and a Beginning

Wa wa wa Emimimo,
Emiloye.
Wa wa wa Alagbara,
Alagbarameta.
Wao wao, wao.
Emimimo.

(Traditional hymn in the Yoruba language, which is spoken by some thirty million people mostly in Nigeria and Benin. We sang this at the Course. Rough translation: Come, Holy Spirit. Come, almighty Spirit.)

The Lord's Day

Today's service was better. It was the Mass in the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Louis, with the Archbishop as celebrant. From our position, crowded on risers behind the High Altar and reredos, near the organ console, some of us could see the procession coming down the long aisle, and the clouds of incense as the Archbishop censed the Altar. It was definitely my kind of church service.

I love the elegance of the liturgical texts in English which the Roman Catholics use nowadays, much improved from the former versions and better than anything the Episcopalians have produced since 1928. I love the clarity of liturgical action – everyone knows when to kneel and stand and cross themselves and how to take communion, which they seem to manage without the multiple options and long explanations that we appear to need in our parish.

But I did not love the music, beyond what we sang. In the time of Pope Benedict, the door was open (at least slightly) for us to sing the choral settings of the Ordinary that are the crown jewels of the Catholic musical tradition, alongside the Gregorian Propers. Both were entirely absent today; I gather that in this place, choral settings of the Ordinary are now forbidden. Instead, the people get woefully pedestrian stuff to sing.

Still, it was Church, and a symbol of the unity that is ours in the Spirit, though not yet fully visible. This year for what I think was the first time, provision was made for the Catholics among us to have the Blessed Sacrament; servers came back to the choir, and the most emotional part of the whole service for me was watching one of the young choirmen take communion. I used to think badly of the Romans for closing communion to Anglicans and Protestants; I have come around to the opinion that they are right.

We sang well, with most of our music during Communion, and we said our farewells. It is always hard; we hope to see one another again next year (July 18-24, already inscribed on my calendar), but some will be absent and we know that as we part; it may be a long time before we meet again.

I will miss these people.

Afterword: July 29

What if, in the high, restful sanctuary
That keeps the memory of Paradise,
We're followed by the drone of history
And greed's poisonous fumes still burn our eyes?
Disharmony recalls us to our work.

(Wendell Berry, “This Day: Collected and New Sabbath Poems” Counterpoint Press, 2014. Copyright 2014.)


Liberation from the dominant technocratic paradigm does in fact happen sometimes, for example.... when the desire to create and contemplate beauty manages to overcome reductionism through a kind of salvation that occurs in beauty and in those who behold it. An authentic humanity... seems to dwell in the midst of our technological culture, almost unnoticed, like a mist seeping gently beneath a closed door. Will the promise last, in spite of everything, with all that is authentic rising up in stubborn rebellion? (Francis I, “Laudato si,” paragraph 112)

In parallel with my travels Eastward and the Course, I have been reading these two documents: the poems by Wendell Berry and the encyclical letter of the Holy Father. The cross-currents between them, and between them and my surroundings, have been fascinating.

Among other gifts, they have helped me return to my Real World, of 6:13 am bus rides crowded and uncomfortable, of chores at home and work, of staff meeting and responsibilities and e-mails (which I entirely avoided while on the road and at the Course). And the news of the world, and the political candidates, and the continuing oppression of the poor and extravagance of the rich.

“Disharmony recalls us to our work.”

On Sunday afternoon, I was the last person from our Course to leave the Basilica. I was not leaving until Jeffery and Diana's group from the Choir School and others sharing their chartered bus were safely on their way; I remembered last year's scramble and was not about to leave them alone in a strange city without at least a friend on hand with a car.

I was in no hurry, so I had notions of going back in to look around and pray. But by now, the next Mass was underway so I could not get into the church. I walked around the outside and conversed with a poor man, who seemed deranged. “They threw me out of that place,” he told me, pointing to the church. “I'm just a poor homeless guy. And I am a Catholic, have been all my life.” Rudy (for that was his name) told me about going to Catholic school and much more.

I have no doubt whatsoever that the ushers at the Basilica asked him to leave for very good reason; we have people who show up in our parish on Sunday mornings that we likewise must ask to leave our property. If they are going to panhandle, they must remain on the public sidewalk. And at bottom, panhandling was what Rudy was doing. I gave him $10 and prayed with him, which is much easier than it would have been back home – where, if you give someone $10, they are back tomorrow wanting $20. I have learned this by experience.

He is a child of God, and I am determined to treat him and people like him that way. I cannot often help financially because I am not rich. But I know someone who has no lack of resources and I can ask Him to help people.

He has a lot of work to do, and not just with poor people. There are people who are sick, or frightened, or filled with hatred, or lonely, or overworked and desperate... and He has time for them all, and loves them all, every one.

But some of that must happen through us. As the Holy Father wrote, part of what is going on is our struggle against the “dominant technocratic paradigm” which kills and destroys. And part of that struggle involves what we have done this week. We have engaged in a thoroughly counter-cultural act: we have sung together, which is an un-technological and authentic activity. We have “sung like human beings” and thus created Beauty – there were moments during the rehearsals when the trebles were singing the Hänsel and Gretel that it was almost more beautiful and good and holy than I could bear.

"Will the promise last, in spite of everything, with all that is authentic rising up in stubborn rebellion?"

------------

So far, I have continued the Little Offices. During the Course, I carried my little green Gideon's New Testament with Psalms (KJV) which was given to me outside my school when I was perhaps ten years old. I have only now learned the true value of it, for with the Psalter, one is fully equipped for the Office at any time and place, if the Collects are not needed; what I did was free prayer instead of the Collect. Whenever we had a break, or a transition with a little bit of time, I prayed an Office.

The real challenge is now, back at home and work. I did say the Office after staff meeting, and as expected it put my work into an entirely different frame. And I have said the Offices at other times, aiming particularly for the transitions between one task or group of tasks and the next. It is a start.

And now, I must step away from the Music Box for a time. Today's realization of how much I must do before First Rehearsals, four weeks from today, was sobering.

May the blessings of God be with you all, and keep on singing.