of Buxtehude, the Morning Star, and the Light shining in darkness

This is the hour of banquet and of song (Joe Cox)
Choir of Trinity Episcopal Church, Iowa City: January 17, 2016
Artwork: Institution of the Eucharist (Fra Angelico, 1442)

This is a fine and simple little communion anthem, not previously found on YouTube. I am pleased to remedy that. There is another “Joe Cox” who comes up on a YouTube search, who is not the composer of this song. Not by a long shot.

And from the same Sunday, the Second after the Epiphany:

Fantasia on “Wie schon leuchtet” (Dietrich Buxtehude)
Artwork: from the blog “Things God taught me”
(an interesting blog, which I found by looking for artwork. I bookmarked this for further exploration; it appears to be evangelical, and sporadically updated – in that regard, much like the Music Box.)
and from the “Spill” blog
(This blog is quite active; it is mostly about pop and “alternative” music, the best I can tell. There is some language and other content which I would consider inappropriate for young people, or for that matter anyone. But there is also a lot of music from styles with which I am utterly unfamiliar, arranged in playlists, so I might explore it some after all.)
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The Buxtehude was one of the test pieces for my Associate’s Certificate many years ago, and I may have caused a change in the examination procedures. The syllabus that year listed the piece, with the comment “Any Edition.” So, I played it from the inexpensive Kalmus, which is what I had. Like the Buxtehude originals (and unlike the more expensive scholarly performing editions) which were written in tablature rather than standard notation, there was no indication of what notes should be played in the pedals and which should belong to the hands.

I played most of it on the manuals, as I still do. One of the examiners strenuously disagreed, since my version did not require any facility with the pedals, though he/she noted in the comments that I was not to be marked down for it, since no edition of the work had been specified.

Ever since, editions have always been specified in the Guild examination requirements.

The AAGO exam was my first experience going “on the road” as an organist, and a first time in a high-pressure playing situation. To this point, I had taught myself to play the organ, doing my work at the little Estey pipe organ in the Baptist church I was serving. I was terrified at the prospect of driving all the way to Roanoke, Virginia for the test and playing on a Big-Time Instrument, an Aeolian-Skinner in the Episcopal church.

It prepared me for what was to come: a spiritual Calling to further study, with a graduate audition at Westminster Choir College. I would not have been admitted into their Church Music program without that “AAGO” on my application, and I would not have had the courage to attempt it. I wrote about that experience here.

The piece has remained one of my favorites; I try to find occasion to play it every Epiphany season. So far, Lent has been difficult for me (and what is worse, some of my friends), and it has cheered me this morning to hear the Buxtehude again. In the hard times, I have remembered Last Epiphany, when we sang the Beethoven “Hallelujah” from his “Mount of Olives” (which I hope to post here in due time; I did not want to at the time because our singing of it had some serious shortcomings, but at this distance, I think the level of Connection, which was quite high, outweighs such considerations). And the memory of that music has strengthened me, by reminding me of Whom we sang that day.

O God, who before the passion of thy only-begotten Son didst reveal his glory upon the holy mount: Grant unto us that we, beholding by faith the light of his countenance, may be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Through Lent, through Holy Week, all the way to the Cross and the Tomb, He remains the Morning Star, the Light that “shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.”