In Mourning for the Old Way of Life

On February 1, 2010, I drove away from the house that I have called home for the last nine months at 7 AM, and looked back at it, knowing that it would be at least six days before I saw the daylight through the windows. I cried.

The most difficult part about starting a new job - one that involves a 45 minute one-way commute - was giving up the flexibility and comfort of working mainly from home. The house I'm living in has an extraordinary view, and on fortunate days in the winter, is full of sunlight from sunrise to late afternoon.

Trading that, and the ability to put in a load of laundry or bake a loaf of bread while I sit at my desk in the sunlight, for a basement office locked far away from any natural light from eight in the morning to four thirty or later at night, almost convinced me I'd made a mistake.

That long last look back was subsumed by days of orientation, organizing the office, and evenings full of music rehearsals. Now, almost three weeks into my job, I know I haven't made a mistake. It is possible to make the basement world a bit more habitable, and I've found the other basement dwellers to be more than welcoming (maybe they're planning to fatten me up and eat me?). Many evenings I've had to kill time and haven't left work until after 5, and for the first week that meant I didn't come up until after dark. Now, I find it disturbing to emerge above ground in the evening to find the late afternoon sun blazing onto the parking lot.

Maybe next year you can hire me to be your groundhog.

Reformed Reflections

Even as a Catholic, I have a special place in my heart for Lutherans, particularly the ELCA Lutheran church. It all began the fateful day when I realized that if I really wanted to experience music in college, a Catholic university just wasn't going to cut it. Whatever you want to say about the Reformation, Martin Luther had something right when he returned the gift of music to the people of the church.

And so I matriculated at Luther College in Decorah, Iowa, where I, a good German Catholic girl, well-acquainted with Friday night fish fry, Vatican II and incense, was enrolled in a four-year intensive course in "How to Speak Norwegian Lutheran" à la Garrison Keillor and Weston Nobel.

This week, I was again doused in all of the best of the First Protestant Church.

Today, Sunday, the Northwoods Brass Quintet added its voice to a special service celebrating the 20th anniversary of Prince of Peace Lutheran church in Eagle River, Wisconsin. Throughout the service people shared memories of the first days of the "mission church" in Eagle River and the construction of the building and sanctuary boasting beautiful acoustics and a warm, welcoming atmosphere - an atmosphere that reflects directly the personal warmth of the congregation that inhabits it. A small church in northern Wisconsin, but with a full-voiced choir of the type that would inspire Luther to post his 95 theses all over again.

Lutherans say music is second only to Word in the liturgical experience. Luther College seeks to instill this in all of its students, and often it is the students themselves that further push the envelope in how music can best be used to express that which is inexpressible.

One of those students who used music as a bridge across cultures and religious experiences has been lost to this world. Ben Larson, Luther graduate of '06 and fourth year seminarian, died when the main building of St. Joseph's Home for Boys in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, collapsed on him during the earthquake on January 12, 2010.

Ben, the younger brother of my twin sister Luther compatriots, lived for music and for the Lutheran church. On Friday I had the honor of attending his memorial service at Luther College. In true Luther style, the event was meticulously planned and hastily thrown together. Every detail was attended to (as one might expect of a memorial service planned by a family of musical pastors and ex-bishops with a contingent of advising pastors and bishops for a near-pastor), but the execution of the event was up to a motley crew of those with various musical talents gathering that day. The result was seamless, and a highly appropriate mix of decorum and informality.

This, to my experience, is the essence of the Lutheran tradition, and the one that the Catholics stand to learn the most from. Ritual guides the practice, but a deep, underlying humanity colors the actual event.

Every human being, regardless of religious creed, should have the type of memorial I witnessed this week. Less the particular ceremony, and more the intent and emotion behind it. Sometimes you need to leave your own tradition to rediscover it in another.

Culture Shock Christmas

I returned home to the United States on December 11, 2008 and I celebrated my first Christmas in five years at home last year. But this is the first year that I have experienced the full season, Black Friday through to Day After Christmas Sales, back in the US, and in the mindset of one who is no longer wearing the badge of Wayfaring Stranger here.

The end result is that I spent far more of this season as a bemused observer, rather than an active participant. Sure, I knew what was going to happen, but none of the traditions were my own anymore. I saw everything as if through the eyes of an outsider. I found myself mentally reporting on all that I saw in the same way I would have if I had been in Madagascar or Vietnam, watching the locals celebrate the season in their way.

This realization came clear to me in the midst of Christmas Eve Mass. I and two other brass players were asked to play for Christmas Eve Mass at the Catholic church I was raised in. So I had a front-row seat for observing the congregation during the service.

Everything was at once completely familiar, and yet crisp and new. I wondered what this would look like to a Muslim or a Buddhist – the way people gathered to sit in seats all lined up around a central point, the automatic responses and prayers, the interspersed music, the decorations and the incense.  The symbols that lose their meaning when simply placed without explanation, the actions that have no obvious provocation (and, indeed, often leave non-liturgical Protestants baffled). It reminded me of the times I’ve wandered through Buddhist temples and heard the chants and seen the repeated bowing of Muslims in mosques, the prayers of Jewish people in Synagogue, and dances and prayers of people of different faiths and cultures during all sorts of life rituals.

I saw again with startling clarity where all the misunderstandings in the world begin. All those people perched in the pews facing the priest (and me) are beautiful, wonderful, well-intentioned people. They care for their families and I know many of them who go far above and beyond the call of duty to serve their communities. And then I saw the people in those temples and mosques and synagogue and ritual houses around the world. I saw beautiful, wonderful, well-intentioned people who care for their families and go above and beyond to serve their communities. I’ve sat at table with these people and I’ve celebrated their festivals and holidays. We all pray for the same thing - peace, health, and hope for the future.

Wherever and whatever you celebrate, I hope you take a moment to consider your rituals, and to fully celebrate their message, and how, in translation, they join with the message of all the others around the world in hopes for peace and health and well-being for all around the world.

I wish you all a happy and healthy 2010.