Quakers and Shakers and Bach, oh my!
Crazy Bach Week (a.k.a. 240, mostly-senior citizens singing the Mass in B Minor) is over. It was quite tiring, but adventuresome and enjoyable as well. The conductor, Gary (chorusmaster of NYC Opera), is really fabulous, albeit somewhat absentminded. This week I really came to admire the choristers, as borderline-insane as some of them were. All 240 of these people are, for the most part, amateurs who just love to sing choral music and who will take a week out of their year (in addition to the time it takes them to learn the music -- and they DO learn it, in great detail) to come to the middle of nowhere and perform with a bunch of people they don't know. This week, I was particularly able to appreciate the mix of people here: amateurs giving their time and money; professionals (or pros-in-training) giving their knowledge and patience; and both groups giving the best parts of themselves to make music.
In a nice way to round out the week, I attended my first-ever Friends ("Quaker") meeting on Sunday morning with an apprentice colleague. I had thought that this religion was rooted in Christianity, but the service had more of a Unitarian-Universalist flavor to it. (Then again, I *was* in Great Barrington, and a lot of the Friends seemed to work in public broadcasting, activist organizations, etc.; so it could just be a more liberal sect up here.) Basically, Friends meetings involve sitting in a circle in total silence for about an hour, with people only speaking if "the Spirit moves them." Only three people talked during the entire hour (I was actually one of them, after much silent arguing with myself), but it was pretty fantastic to be able to just sit and think with no distractions.
The theme of the meeting was what I later learned to be one of the only two tenets of Quaker-ism -- "holding every person in the light"; ie. giving them unconditional love and kindness. (The other tenet is to practice peace at all times, which is why Quakers are big on filing for Conscientious Objector status.) This idea of unconditional love prompted me to speak when I was reminded of something from a recent speech by the Pope: "One becomes similar to God to the degree that one becomes someone who loves." Unfortunately, this quote was taken out of context from a doctrinal statement bashing gay marriage and homosexuality in general, but I did disclaim that before I spoke. (I figured it was evidence of there being some good in everything and everyone.) Anyway, this sentence got me thinking about the idea of unconditional, absolute love and limitless compassion, and whether humans are capable of it. I'm not sure if we are, but we can definitely come close to it. We're not omniscient, not omnipotent and certainly not selfless, but I think it is possible to approach an almost God-like level of love for everyone we meet. Imagine what the world would be like if everybody lived like that. It's a utopian ideal, I know, but I do think we can each strive for this on an individual level.
At one point in the meeting, a woman suggested that we "hold the terrorists in the Light and pray for God's blessing upon them." I thought that was a beautiful statement of compassion and mercy. I wish our "Christian" leaders would take that approach -- pre-emptive goodwill rather than pre-emptive strikes. What could be more Christian than that?
This experience has really created a good frame of mind for this week. Last week, I was bemoaning the serious deficiency of heterosexual men under 30 (the average particpant age here is about 63, and sopranos and altos far outnumber their male counterparts). While this is pretty much the case again this week, I found myself being thankful for it yesterday when I was able to spend a lot of time with a blind girl who sings in the chorus. I stood next to someone who was visually-impaired last week as well, just by chance, and I remain amazed at how sharpened the other four senses are when someone has lost the fifth. Both women have perfect pitch, and when I asked them about it, they both answered that they hadn't always had it, but they had to learn to distinguish the notes somehow if they couldn't read them.
Brief Tanglewood re-cap for the week before I close: Sibelius Violin Concerto is one of my new favorite works, but the Rite of Spring still stole the show at Friday evening's concert. Matthias Goerne singing an all-lieder program tonight! Exciting!
In a nice way to round out the week, I attended my first-ever Friends ("Quaker") meeting on Sunday morning with an apprentice colleague. I had thought that this religion was rooted in Christianity, but the service had more of a Unitarian-Universalist flavor to it. (Then again, I *was* in Great Barrington, and a lot of the Friends seemed to work in public broadcasting, activist organizations, etc.; so it could just be a more liberal sect up here.) Basically, Friends meetings involve sitting in a circle in total silence for about an hour, with people only speaking if "the Spirit moves them." Only three people talked during the entire hour (I was actually one of them, after much silent arguing with myself), but it was pretty fantastic to be able to just sit and think with no distractions.
The theme of the meeting was what I later learned to be one of the only two tenets of Quaker-ism -- "holding every person in the light"; ie. giving them unconditional love and kindness. (The other tenet is to practice peace at all times, which is why Quakers are big on filing for Conscientious Objector status.) This idea of unconditional love prompted me to speak when I was reminded of something from a recent speech by the Pope: "One becomes similar to God to the degree that one becomes someone who loves." Unfortunately, this quote was taken out of context from a doctrinal statement bashing gay marriage and homosexuality in general, but I did disclaim that before I spoke. (I figured it was evidence of there being some good in everything and everyone.) Anyway, this sentence got me thinking about the idea of unconditional, absolute love and limitless compassion, and whether humans are capable of it. I'm not sure if we are, but we can definitely come close to it. We're not omniscient, not omnipotent and certainly not selfless, but I think it is possible to approach an almost God-like level of love for everyone we meet. Imagine what the world would be like if everybody lived like that. It's a utopian ideal, I know, but I do think we can each strive for this on an individual level.
At one point in the meeting, a woman suggested that we "hold the terrorists in the Light and pray for God's blessing upon them." I thought that was a beautiful statement of compassion and mercy. I wish our "Christian" leaders would take that approach -- pre-emptive goodwill rather than pre-emptive strikes. What could be more Christian than that?
This experience has really created a good frame of mind for this week. Last week, I was bemoaning the serious deficiency of heterosexual men under 30 (the average particpant age here is about 63, and sopranos and altos far outnumber their male counterparts). While this is pretty much the case again this week, I found myself being thankful for it yesterday when I was able to spend a lot of time with a blind girl who sings in the chorus. I stood next to someone who was visually-impaired last week as well, just by chance, and I remain amazed at how sharpened the other four senses are when someone has lost the fifth. Both women have perfect pitch, and when I asked them about it, they both answered that they hadn't always had it, but they had to learn to distinguish the notes somehow if they couldn't read them.
Brief Tanglewood re-cap for the week before I close: Sibelius Violin Concerto is one of my new favorite works, but the Rite of Spring still stole the show at Friday evening's concert. Matthias Goerne singing an all-lieder program tonight! Exciting!