Confirmation: Children of the heavenly Father

Today was the Bishop's Visitation, with the sacraments of Baptism and Confirmation. The appointed Gospel was St. Mark 9:30-37, wherein Jesus takes a little child in his arms and tells the disciples that “whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”

With that in mind, our anthem was a setting of the old Swedish hymn “Children of the heavenly Father” by Daniel Kallman. Here is the YouTube clip from this morning's service.

I have been ill at ease for several days and not at all productive in my work. Today I realized why; this day was important to me, so much that I could focus on little else – very much like I get during Holy Week, or the run-up to our Lessons and Carols service in Advent, or the day of the first choir rehearsals of the fall season.

Our Bishop does not often visit our parish; his last visit was the installation of our current rector, about a year and a half ago, and he has not done Confirmation here for many years. He prefers to administer “regional” confirmations (of which today's service was one, though we had no candidates from beyond our parish), and the last one of those was I think more than a year ago.

We had two young adults who were both baptized and confirmed today – one of them, J., sings in the choir, and both of them are Musicians, string players. And we had two young children – one a child of about one or two years, the other an infant of about one month, on his first visit to Church. His parents are dear to me, and this child has not come to them easily, so it was highly emotional for me, and for many others who know them. May he live to see his children's children.

The confirmation included the two young men, as I mentioned, another adult who is new to our parish, plus two high school students who have gone through the multiple years of preparation for confirmation. They also are dear to me; one of them sang in our youth choir when he was a child and attended an RSCM Course with us.

And it included one of my friends, who asked me to be her sponsor. When the time came, I presented her to the Bishop, stumbling over her name, and alongside her husband and children, laid hands on her as the Bishop administered this holy Sacrament.

Strengthen, O Lord, your servant N. with your Holy Spirit; empower her for your service; and sustain her all the days of her life. Amen (BCP p. 309)

The power that is in this Sacrament differs from what one senses in Holy Baptism. There is a determination and strength in Confirmation, as the above prayer suggests. And there is a sustenance. I have found it so; I do not think that I would have persevered in my Christian life, and certainly not in my work as a church musician, without the inward grace of this Sacrament. Like the sacrament of Holy Matrimony, the inward grace of Confirmation seems to appear most of all very much later, years and decades later, when it is most needed.

And like all of the Sacraments, the power is not something “supernatural.” Not at all. It is, rather, thoroughly “natural” – the power I sensed today as I joined in the laying on of hands is the same power that one senses in a sunrise, or the vigorous strength of a tree in its full maturity, or the irresistible onset of Spring. I believe that this “naturalness” can be found only in the works of the One we serve, and never in the counterfeits of the Enemy. His works can dazzle, or entertain, or overpower with violence, or carry one away with the frenzy of a mob bent on mayhem and murder. But there is no life in them.

The wisdom that comes from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. (St. James 3:17, from today's Epistle)

In closing, I include my prelude improvisation from the middle service. It is a set of variations on the hymn “Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation,” with the tune “Lobe den Herren.”

Many of the important examples of the Variation form stray quite far from the tune as the variations continue; I tried to emulate this by moving to the dominant minor and including several passages of development, and avoiding full statements of the theme through much of the improvisation. A critic could call it a confused mish-mash of conflicting forms, with elements of A-B-A, and sonata form, and even a hint of rondo. But to my ear, it seems to work, and to present some possibilities for future efforts.

I did not realize how much of me was bound up into this day's liturgies until they were done. I was able to join my friend and her family for a relaxed dinner at a barbecue house, followed by an hour's nap in my Honda, up on the top level of the parking ramp in the sunshine, and then I spent the balance of the afternoon and evening working out fingerings. Most of it was for the Dorian Toccata and Fugue of Bach, which is on the schedule for Christ the King. It is a serious and intense work, and it was good to delve into it, and I found that I could do so with a freedom that had eluded me this week.

I took a break after the Toccata for Evensong in our church's courtyard as the sun set and the half-moon sailed across the clear sky. The psalm for this Twentieth Evening is 104, the psalm that most closely relates to the world of Nature. Near the end is a passage that is one of my watchwords; I have it posted in Hebrew in my office. In its context in the Psalm, it is a reminder that Music (when it is done aright), being one of the works of our Maker, partakes in the “naturalness” of all that lives and grows and nurtures and heals.

Ashira l'Adonai b'hachai
Azemerah leohi b'odi
Ye'erav alaiou sichi
Esemach b'Adonai

I will sing to the LORD as long as I live;
I will praise my God while I have my being.
May these words of mine please him;
I will rejoice in the LORD.

Evening Song, Canticles, and H. M. the Queen

Our First Sunday choral evensong on Sept. 6 went well. I do not have time to say much about it beyond grateful thanks to the choristers, especially the new choristers of the St. Simeon's Choir, which augments the regular Trinity Choir for evensongs – this was the first time for the combined groups.

But I do wish to refer you to some music from the service:

The organ prelude: by David Hurd, “Evening Song.” It is a quiet and contemplative piece, obviously influenced by Messiaen. I own Dr. Hurd an enormous debt, for he was the first Organist that I heard. I was eighteen, newly arrived at Duke, and singing in the Chapel Choir for the first Sunday of the term, when it was open to all comers. As we processed into the Duke Chapel, Hurd was playing the Bach Prelude and Fugue in B Minor on the old Aeolian organ - I believe that this was his first Sunday, as well, at least his first semester as Chapel Organist.

The Bach piece changed my life. I had no idea that Real Music could be a part of Christian worship. I knew of Bach -- by this time, I had played some of the first book of the Well Tempered Clavier -- but I had never heard any of the organ music; indeed, I had never heard a pipe organ.

I did not take organ lessons at Duke: a friend who was an organ major discouraged me from it. But the seed was planted. And I did not sing in the Duke Choirs; I auditioned - twice - and did not make the cut. This was grievous to me at the time, but it has proven to be better for me as a choral director; it has given me a firm commitment to the welcoming of all who evidence sufficient desire to come to rehearsals.

And here are the Canticles: the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis. These were composed for our choir by Justin Mann during the year that our Pilcher organ was in storage for a construction project and we were worshipping in the Parish Hall. Thus, the accompaniment is for piano. I do not know of another setting of the Canticles with piano accompaniment, which in my opinion should give this version wide applicability. On two Wednesdays' rehearsal, we did not entirely do it justice, but I hope that the YouTube clip gives a sufficient idea of the piece.

I must hurry on, but I cannot close without special thanks to Jean L., who suggested the idea of the St. Simeon's Choir and did much to make it possible.

And I also wish to congratulate Her Majesty the Queen: on this day, she passes Victoria as the longest-reigning British monarch. She is the "Royal" in the Royal School of Church Music -- that is, she is the RSCM's Royal Patron. Her mother, of blessed memory, was the Patron after the death of George VI (who, until his death, was the Patron, as was his father). It is said that she frequently visited the RSCM Courses in Great Britain, to hang out with the choristers and especially the directors, with whom she would have a bit of sherry or other refreshment. And she was diligent in this work to the end of her long life. Since then, Elizabeth R. has been the Patron. She is not a great fan of classical music, but she takes the RSCM seriously and supports its work.

Long live the Queen!

In my Father's house are many mansions

Today was a housewarming party for my friends N., J. and their children. Being Monday, it is also my Sabbath. And it was a beautiful sunny day of late summer. I was unsure of the parking in their neighborhood, so I left my Honda in the staff parking behind the church and walked, about fifteen minutes through a fine older neighborhood. And I found the place, which is on a street that I had never visited; a quiet side street close the children's school – once I got within about a half-block, all I had to do was to follow my ears to the house where lots of children were playing in the backyard – what seemed to be about half of our Youth Choir, plus many others.

It was the sort of house that I love: nineteenth century, with old wavy glass in the windows, what looked like pine floors, low ceilings, especially in the tiny bedrooms upstairs – which can be reached only by way of a narrow steep staircase. Too many homes of Episcopalians are cold and sterile, everything perfectly placed and mostly new, more like a luxury hotel suite than any place where a person could actually live. This was Home, a place that had clearly been home to several generations and brimming with life.

On this day, it was full of children, tumbling up and down the stairs, through the rooms, in and out the back door into the yard. I mostly stood in a corner of the kitchen with my friend's father and watched, talking of the Greatest Generation and what has followed, and comparing it to the generation of the War Between the States, who did what they could to ensure that nothing like that would ever happen again. It may have been such a family that first built this house, back in the 1880's or thereabouts. And I am sure that the great-grandparents of these children, who would have been of that Great Generation, would be pleased that they have a Home in a quiet neighborhood where they can walk to school, and would say a prayer that they never see the dark days of Depression and War.

I pray that for them, too.

All in all, it made for a fine Sabbath of rest for me to be there among these people, the parents who could almost (by age) be my children, and their children, running about and enjoying the day. It reminded me more than a little of the fictional household of Arthur and Molly Weasley.

Walking back to the church, I considered something that has sometimes nagged at me about Heaven – how could it be a perfect place and the Home of which all others are but a shadow without children running around and playing in the yard? It would not be fair for those who die as children and make their first entrance into Heaven as such to remain so; they must come to their full flowering of maturity, as must we all. So would there be no children in that place? On this day, the answer came to me: We are the children. All of us, clear back to Adam and Eve. In that place, the child that remains tucked away inside of us can peek its head around the door and see wonders beyond imagining. And all of his friends, all there. And a whole universe to play in. And at the same time, each of us with the maturity and wisdom of the ancients. And a Father who is more playful than the most mischievous child; one need only read in the Book of Nature and contemplate the God who created puppies and kittens and lambs in the spring.

Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

Hammered Dulcimer and miracles

I awoke early this morning with the thought that the Hammered Dulcimer could be an instrument for one of my young friends to learn. I did some “research” – that is, I spent about a half-hour on YouTube – and passed the results on to her mother.

But in the process, I was hooked.

This is one of those magical instruments which has always left me in awe of its beauty, quicksilver lightness, and grace. Here is a music video by Caleb Shetler that captures some of its spirit.

My favorite performer has always been John McCutcheon: here is one his videos.

For old times' sake, here is McCutcheon again, back in 1981, showing in the first half that he can also play the guitar. The second half is at the hammered dulcimer.

Back in those days, I was able to hear him in live performance several times, because he lived not far away in the mountains of Southwest Virginia.

Not only is the sound beautiful, but so are the instruments. And they are in a price range that I could afford. I spent some time looking at the websites of some builders. Oh, I want one of these!

And I could learn to play it. Here is the first of a series of instructional videos by Jess Dickinson
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Uh... when exactly will I do this? What will I have to neglect to do it? Is it not enough to play the organ? And the piano, with the chance to play that gorgeous Steinway in church every Sunday morning and as often as I can during the week?

That is the rub. I must focus on what I do, and not dream of going off on a tangent.
But I can enjoy the dulcimer and those who play it.

And after the morning's detour, it was a miracle of grace to go upstairs and open up the hundred-year-old Pilcher. Somehow, it was more beautiful in its ancient and venerable grace than before, this King of Instruments, this instrument of Bach and Franck and Messiaen, this instrument of Holy Mother Church and handmaiden of the Divine Liturgy.

And tomorrow, I hope to work with an ensemble yet more beautiful and gracious and precious in the sight of the Lord – for He made these instruments, these choristers with their voices. It is a miracle to sing; it is a miracle to work with singers in a choir. It is the first Sunday of the season for the adult choir, and in the evening – Choral Evensong.

All music is a miracle. I was glad of the reminder this morning.

Reading Music

This year, the Youth Choir has only one new chorister, plus two older choristers who have returned after some years away. Last year, we had a much larger number, but whether one or a dozen, I must teach them to read music. I wish I could say that all of our choristers can sight-sing with ease; they don't. But I have learned to set the standard lower: I would like for them to be able to find the place where we are rehearsing, follow their part in a choral score, sing or speak the rhythms accurately (at least to the level of eighth notes, dotted quarter/eighth patterns, triplets, and occasional sixteenth note passages), and have the basic concept of solfege.

I often draw a chart on the board that outlines the basics:
- follow the notes
- rhythm
- pitch
- other stuff

Follow the Notes:
A chorister is not going to get far if he is not in the same place on the page as the rest of the choir. Or even on the same anthem! It continues to surprise me how often a young chorister can appear to be singing merrily along through ten minutes of work on an anthem, and upon closer examination, she is looking at a completely different anthem. We had one example of that yesterday form a second-year chorister: We were rehearsing the preces and responses by William Byrd; he had the responses by William Smith, bound in the same book. Granted, the text is the same, but I should have caught his mistake more quickly. And (ideally) so should he. So, the first part of following the notes is Finding the Place -- the right anthem, the right page, the right part of the page. It helps when the director is consistent in his announcements: "page six, the second system, third measure." Or as those influenced by Gerre Hancock would say, "Six, two, three," expecting the choir to find it from that - they can, and many choristers seem to enjoy the challenge of moving so quickly.

To this end, I pair a new chorister with a more experienced singer, perhaps one or two years older, or even much older (e.g., middle school or high school). They share one music folder. At first, the new singer watches the older one follow the notes with his finger, then (perhaps on the second or third time through a passage) they trade; the new singer has the folder and follows the notes, with the older singer watching and helping when she gets off-track.

The new choristers invariably want their own choir folder; it is one of the marks of Belonging to the Choir. And I have too often given it to them too early; I did this last year with some of the new singers, and it was in the long run a setback for them. Perhaps a month or so of rehearsals is right for folder-sharing; enough time so that the new singer can confidently follow notes and find the place.

What is "Follow the Notes?" I learned this from watching James Litton work with his probationers at Trinity Church, Princeton many years ago. I tell the choir to follow the notes; they put their finger on the first one, I play a passage (a short passage, perhaps one or two measures at first), they go from one note to the next. I stop suddenly, go around the room, and see if they have it. If not, I help them find it. Over time, the passages get longer, up to several pages sometimes -- but the limit then becomes the practical rehearsal value, for part of what we are doing is having the choir hear a new passage so that they can sing it.

And that is what we do. We follow the notes for a large enough chunk to work on, then we immediately sing it. But (usually) not with words, not yet. For we have more to do.

Rhythm
Rhythm notation is easier to learn than pitch notation, so we start there. I use the Kodaly rhythmic syllables: "Tah" for a quarter note, "Ti" for an eighth note. Longer durations are multiple "Tahs" -- a dotted half note would be "Ta - ah - ah" with an emphasis on each of the three beats.

The very first stage is aural. Especially if there are a lot of new singers (like last year), I will clap a short rhythm, speaking the "Tah's and Ti's", they repeat it back to me. That way, they learn what the durations mean. Then we would work from an example on the whiteboard, speaking/clapping it as I point to the notes. Then we would do the same from an anthem score -- often, I have taken my example from an anthem that we are learning -- speaking it (and following notes as we do so), then singing it on the Tah's and Ti's.

My goal is for the choir (and especially the new singers) to get to where we can sight-read the rhythms directly from the printed music, using the tah's and ti's and speaking the rhythms. They usually catch on to this quickly, within a few weeks or a couple of months.

Even much later, and with an adult choir (if they have learned the Tah's and Ti's), we will use the rhythmic syllables for sight-singing and rehearsal. I use them myself when I work on the congregational hymns, and sing them to myself in the liturgy as I play, especially when it is a situation where the congregation's sound lags behind the organ.

Another advantage of this work is that it breaks the common pattern where a new singer is following the words and not the notes. She must somehow learn to do both at once, but it helps to ignore the words at first.

Pitch
This is harder. Much harder.

Again, I use the Kodaly/Curwen solfege syllables, with movable Do: Do-Re-Mi-Fa-Sol-La-Ti-Do.
These go much further into the past, back to Guido of Arezzo in the early middle ages. And they remain essential, in my opinion. Others differ -- there are other systems, such as singing by interval. But this is what I teach.

The foundation is in our warmups. We always do scales - a descending scale down from Do to the bottom, then a turnaround and back up to the top. This is because descending patterns are better vocally for developing ease with register shifts. And with the children, we use the hand-signs (depicted in this article on the Kodaly Method). It gives them a tactile experience to go with the singing, and gives me a way to "line out" melodies. After they become thoroughly comfortable with scales and the hand signs, I will change directions in the middle of the scale, go back and forth stepwise, and try to "trick" them. They enjoy this.

After that is comfortable, I introduce skips in the melody. I begin with something like this:
Do-Re-Mi -- Do-Mi
where they have just sung the target of the skip and it is fresh in their memory.

All of this is by sound, rote, and hand-signing. It must be transferred to the page.

The first step is to write a scale on the board, with the solfa names. We sing from the board as I point to the notes; we go back and forth up and down the scale, and maybe do skips. Later, I will write an example from the music we are learning on the board and we will do the same; I point, they sing. Immediately after, we look at the printed score and do the same passage. Often, this is a hymn tune, for they are excellent material for this sort of work.

If the choir gets far enough along with this, we will eventually try to sight-read hymn tunes or anthem material on the solfa syllables, or do a second reading on the solfas after we have read it with the rhythm syllables. Most years, we don't develop much skill with this, though we often reach the point where we can slowly puzzle out a new tune with solfas as a group, the most experienced singers obviously taking a lead and the younger ones following.

I wish we could get further.

Other Stuff

That is, everything else that a music score tells us:
- words (vital for a singer! And this includes the vast domain of diction, phrase shaping, etc.)
- dynamic and tempo markings
- articulations (e.g., accents, breath marks)
- background material (composer, author, etc.)

And much more.

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Reading Music is a lifelong journey, a path I continue to walk. I can do no more than help the young people start down the path. But I am obliged to do at least that much.

Many children's choirs (and adult choirs too) don't do this. It is slow, it takes rehearsal time (though not so much when you are using the songs and anthems they are working on as your teaching material). And most choirs are working toward a more immediate result -- that anthem next month, or the Christmas concert. I believe that this shortchanges the choristers.

Again, I wish we could do more. I feel badly when singers that I have trained audition for other groups -- for example, the voice trials at every summer's RSCM Course. I wish that they would be far superior to the singers from other choirs -- but that is Pride talking, and I must ignore it. And when the occasional person comes through the choir and goes on to be a professional musician, I wish that I could have given them a more thorough training. But at least they have the concepts, which may make their collegiate training a little easier.

One of my young people from years ago, now the principal flutist with a mid-level symphony in the southeast, came back from her first semester at college amazed that her flute teacher expected her and the other students to learn their parts in solfege. She thanked me for getting her started.

More broadly, and probably of more importance, I hope that I can help equip these young people to sing in church and community choirs throughout their life, and intelligently sing the Songs of Zion, the hymns of the church.