Charity Concert, and flowers

On Saturday I took part in a Charity Concert in aid of MHA, which is a charity providing care homes, housing and support services for older people throughout Britain. It was organised by Birgitte Grace, the chaplain at Westbury Grange and a member of the Baptist Church of which I'm a part. Bee, as she's known, is doing an excellent work, and the way she spoke about MHA demonstrated her commitment and compassion for vulnerable older people.

I did two sets, accompanied by Mary Cotes, who also accompanied Claire Turner, more recently a mum, but previously a mezzo soprano with Welsh National Opera. Katie Neaves, a violinist was the other instrumentalist, taking a night off from the National Tour of The Sound of Music. Additionally, the Arts1 Musical Theatre Choir sang.

This group describe themselves as 'a vibrant and exciting adult choir for singers looking to enjoy making a fantastic sound whilst having fun and meeting new friends.' It was an absolute delight to hear them perform with such enthusiasm and clear enjoyment. Their musical director, James Grimsey, who led them in songs from shows, popular music and other well known melodies, has something of the Gareth Malone, from The Choir, about him. Certainly he generated a huge amount of energy from his singers.

The evening was in the Church of St Peter and St Paul's, Newport Pagnell, and on this occasion it was actually warm! The finishing touch from the evening was that for the first time ever, I was given flowers, beautiful flowers, and I was thoroughly chuffed!

Anish Kapoor and The Sacred Made Real

I spent Friday in London and visited firstly The Royal Academy to see the exhibition by Anish Kapoor. It's been described as 'a succession of physical and psychological experiences to draw us into his search for a poetic sculptural language that seems to reach beyond the object.'

It consists of a number of exhibits in wonderful shapes, colours, different materials and textures, and the overall effect is dramatic, sensual, playful and allusive. The photo of the amazing sculpture in the Courtyard, 'Tall Tree and the Eye', doesn't do justice to the effect of the reflections in each sphere.

I heard a children's guide ask repeatedly, 'How does this make you feel?' and this tellingly reinforced that this is not a head-thing!

I then went to the National Gallery for The Sacred Made Real. This consisted of hyper realistic sculptures and devotional paintings from seventeenth and eighteenth century Spain, depicting Christ in his sufferings, as well as the saints and the Virgin Mary. This art is 'stark, austere and often gory, with the intention of shocking the senses and stirring the soul'. While my soul wasn't greatly stirred, the paintings, which are clearly influenced by the sculptures, and the sculptures, carved in wood and then polychromed by another artist, are masterpieces. A nice touch is that on the audio-guide, incidental music to the exhibition has been composed by the pianist, Stephen Hough.

Of the two, the sacred was made more real by the Anish Kapoor, than by The Sacred Made Real!

Cheers

Last week, at our Ministers' Conference, Roy Searle began the Communion with the theme music from 'Cheers', an Eighties American sitcom, making the point that in Celtic spirituality there is no sacred/secular divide. This became the theme song of a church Roy pastored in a challenging area of Stockton on Tees, back in the Eighties.

It's called, 'Where Everybody Knows Your Name'.

Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got.
Taking a break from all your worries,
sure would help a lot.
Wouldn't you like to get away?
Sometimes you want to go,

where everybody knows your name,

and they're always glad you came.

You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same.
You wanna be where everybody knows Your name.
You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows your name.

It reminded me of a song we sang regularly at the churches where I was the minister, 'Here we are, gathered together as a family'. This said something about the community that we were seeking to be.

Hope

For the next week Living Wittily has committed himself to one sentence Blogposts. I read this one sentence yesterday, which I returned to today. It's from Frederick Buechner, Listening to Your Life, in which he is reflecting on the Seven Virtues.

'Hope is the glimmer on the horizon that keeps faith plugging forward, the wings that keep it more or less in the air.'

In a culture, and especially a church culture which veers towards the exaggerated, I appreciated the understatement, the more modest claim, the rootedness, in this description.

Bach's music never stops praying

Alex Ross, who is the music critic for the New Yorker, and author of the sensational book, The Rest is Noise, while retaining his blog with the same name, is now blogging on Unquiet Thoughts. He includes this snippet from a new book on the Hungarian composer, György Kurtág, whom I confess to not having heard of. I found this response to the question, 'Are you a believer?' a fascinating one.

'I do not know. I toy with the idea. Consciously, I am certainly an atheist, but I do not say it out loud, because if I look at Bach, I cannot be an atheist. Then I have to accept the way he believed. His music never stops praying. And how can I get closer if I look at him from the outside? I do not believe in the Gospels in a literal fashion, but a Bach fugue has the Crucifixion in it—as the nails are being driven in. In music, I am always looking for the hammering of the nails…. That is a dual vision. My brain rejects it all. But my brain isn’t worth much.'

Retreat with Roy Searle - retrospective

We've just had an excellent Ministers' Conference/Retreat with Roy. Roy is one of the founder leaders of the Northumbria Community, and also a Baptist minister. Roy is well known to many of us as a friend, and as I expected, he nourished our souls, informed our minds, and told a lot of memorable stories, some moving, some very funny. And we prayed.

Among many things that were said, he reminded us that pastoral ministry is not about running the church; that Sabbath is a gift that we can give to our Western consumerist society. He asked provocative questions, 'how is it with your soul?' and 'what are you and God working on at the moment?' He talked of the need for Speak Easys, where people can do just that. He encouraged us in a way of being with God where we don't set the agenda. He emphasised the need for integrity and authenticity. He told us of the mission statement of the church where he began in pastoral ministry, 'plodding hopefully in the right direction'. He led us in creative, thoughtful, non-driven worship.

The relaxed between-times at meals, refreshment breaks and at the end of the day, provided ideal conditions for making and nurturing relationships, and the space provided on Tuesday afternoon was particularly renewing. And just to add that the food at King's Park, Northampton was varied, plentiful, and very tasty. Kippers for breakfast, with a poached egg, was a real treat! Thanks Steve, and indeed all the staff who were extremely hospitable. So from my perspective, as well as the feedback I'm receiving, a good time, doing what it was meant to do.

Retreat with Roy Searle

Monday sees the beginning of our three-day Ministers' Conference. And this year we're doing something completely different. I've invited Roy Searle, from the Northumbria Community, to come and lead a retreat. I'm excited about it as well as a little apprehensive, this being the first time, but actually confident that it'll be something like what we're hoping for.

Normally this is a pretty intense three days, hosting, introducing, thanking, leading, participating, but this year there will be less of all this, and maybe even some space for myself -we'll see. I'm particularly looking forward to facilitating a conversation with Roy on Tuesday evening.

I'll post a blog later on in the week.

'Not about conflict and resolution'

I'm listening to a new CD recommended by Gramophone magazine, Not no faceless Angel, by Gabriel Jackson - (angels keep cropping up! see previous post). It is as the review says, 'of special beauty and appeal'. But I'm provoked by the composer's explanation of his music, 'I try to write music that is clean and clear in line, texture and structure; my pieces are made of simple melodies, chords, drones and ostinatos. They are not about conflict and resolution; even when animated, they are essentially contemplative.'

It was the bit, 'not about conflict and resolution'. This would be a similar philosophy to some of the holy minimalists, such as John Taverner. What provokes me is that while I greatly appreciate the experience of 'the sonic cathedral' from time to time, I find it limiting. The essence of music is the way in which a composer sets up conflict, or tension, and then resolves it. This is what makes music so alluring.

Stephen Hough, in his blog, asks the question, 'Can atonal music move you?' And he makes this incisive observation, 'Pure atonality's problem is its lack of reference points. If you take away the compass of tonality you take away tension - the magnetic pull is annulled.' A different issue, but again, the need for tension.

In relation to our world, while conflict, or tension, can be destructive, actually it is an integral part of what it means to be human. Life would be unimaginable without tension? The issue is not to remove it, but to live with it creatively. And when it comes to conflict or tension with others, the question with which we grapple is 'how do we manage our differences'? We need the difference and can't do without it, but it creates tension, or conflict, and that needs to be negotiated.

I find myself pondering what part tension, or even conflict in its creative sense, will play in God's future, new creation. I don't believe that the music of John Taverner, or Gabriel Jackson, however lovely it might be, is an accurate foretaste of that life.

Sort of related is this provocative prayer by Martin Wroe, called Noise:

They say you're available

on certain conditions.

Quiet ones.

That if I can find an air of tranquility

it carries that still small voice.

But I don't do quiet,

stillness.

I am not tranquil except when I am asleep

and then I am not available

as far as I know.

So,

what's the chance of a still big voice

in the noise,

of hearing you in the roaring traffic,

the screaming meal-time,

the crowded train,

the supermarket queue,

the smoky, throbbing bar?

I know that time you weren't

in the fire,

the storm.

But everyone's different.

Maybe Elijah was better at quiet.

You're usually quiet.

I'm usually wired.

If I try for your silence,

perhaps you could try for my noise.

Your place or mine?

I know they say you're in

the country,

but maybe we could meet in town.

What music makes you cry?

The brilliant concert pianist, and entertaining blogger, Stephen Hough, asks the question on his blog. He's not necessarily talking about opening the floodgates, but 'What is it that tickles my readers' tear ducts?'

For me, and most recently, it would be the opening of Dichterliebe by Robert Schumann, sung by Ian Bostridge. And the Andantino from Schubert's Piano Sonata in A major, D 644.

Of course, what triggers the tears may not just be the effect of the music, but the association, or a memory, so Acker Bilk, playing 'Stranger on the Shore' does it most times.

The Londonderry Air, in almost any arrangement is another one, but especially when sung by Johnny Cash or played by Martin Taylor.

There's so much Miles Davis but Flamenco Sketches, or It Never Entered My Mind create some moistness.

And as for Mozart, again, where to begin. Undoubtedly, the Adagio from the Clarinet Concerto. But also, the Finale of Act 2 of The Marriage of Figaro. Interestingly, this isn't particularly slow, which is a characteristic of much 'tearful' music. Then there is 'Tamino, Mine' from 'The Magic Flute'.

Mahler, would include the fifth of the Ruckert Songs, which is heart-breakingly beautiful.

I need to draw the line somewhere lest I spend the whole day listing music, and more importantly I can't find a tissue! It would be good to hear from readers, what music makes you cry?

Michael and All Angels

Today is Michael and All Angels, not a particularly significant festival in the Baptist calendar, but since reading today's scriptures from the lectionary it's sort of got under my skin.

I browsed an excellent book written by my friends Robert and Ro Willoughby, 'Angels: a journey of exploration for individuals, small groups or churches'. This is a really creative resource, which is no surprise if you know Robert and Ro. I then turned to Bob Hartman's wonderful 'Easter Angels' with gorgeous illustrations by Tim Jonke. This is a children's book, but is loved by children of all ages, and one that moves me every Easter Sunday when I read it, normally out loud to anyone who's at home. I'm not sure that it's available any longer but his 'Angels, Angels, All Around' is.

I went to my iTunes and typed in 'angel', but this included a huge amount of Angela Hewitt and the Los Angeles Philharmonic, so I tried 'angels', which was more manageable. I've played Mark Padmore, singing 'Waft her, angels' from Handel's Jeptha - sublime - followed by Robbie Williams, 'Angels' - another stunning performer though of a different kind. Then 'Go, in the name of Angels' from Elgar's 'Dream of Gerontius'. Also, John Harle's 'Air and Angels', although I haven't got round to Rautavarra's 'Angels and Visitations', a substantial and appropriately awesome piece. The other notable inclusion is a jazz album 'Angel of the Presence'.

When it comes to art, where do you begin? You either love or hate Anthony Gormley's 'The Angel of the North' and I love it, but two years ago there was an exhibition of his work at the Hayward Gallery, called 'Blinding Light'. It incorporated figures all over central London as viewed from the Hayward Gallery, and for me they took the form of sentinels or angelic beings, and I found them striking and stirring.

I've never encountered an angel wittingly, although I know some who have. Angels remain a mystery which I guess is what makes them so fascinating. Certainly they've inspired an incredible amount of art of different forms. Oh well, down to earth with a bump - I'm off to a Church Meeting!

Gustavo Dudamel mania

Gustavo Dudamel, the dynamic 28 year old conductor, who has electrified the classical music world with the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela, is about to take up his role as music director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra. And there is Dudamel-mania in LA. Tom Service provides the detail, including a more cautionary article by Mark Swed.

However, go here for an inspiring clip of the Dude, working with young musicians. Enjoy!

Oakhill Secure Training Centre, Milton Keynes

On Thursday morning I spent a couple of hours with Andrew Gale, the new Chaplain at the Oakhill Secure Training Centre, and a Baptist minister. It must qualify as one of the shortest journeys I've done in the car - it's just two miles down the road!

Oakhill is one of just four centres in the country for serious young offenders between the ages of twelve and seventeen. It's well resourced with as many staff as trainees, and as attractive a building as it could be under the circumstances. I was really impressed by what Andrew is doing there as a chaplain, and inspired by the ethos of the place, which, for a penal institution, has a focus on bringing reform to the lives of some very damaged young people.

My Lord, you wore no royal crown

We are now well into the season of Inductions. I began with the induction of Rev'd John Lockley at Bushey, and last Saturday the induction of Rev'd Lou Webber at Christ the King, Kents Hill (part of the Walton LEP). Both were really good occasions with a great buzz at the commencement of a new chapter in the life of these communities. This Saturday is the inauguration of Alan Smith as the Bishop of St Albans, which I'm looking forward to.

One thing that fascinates me is the choice of hymns/songs and I'll come back to this at the close of the season which will be the end of November. I was reflecting on my choice at my ordination and inductions. Certainly on two occasions I included Christopher Idle's hymn, 'My Lord, you wore no royal crown'. What I find hard to believe is that I've never sung this hymn anywhere else unless I've chosen it! And as I looked at the words, set to the folk tune, I found myself asking, 'Why?' The tune is Waly, Waly, which is a perfect marriage. And the last verse still brings a lump to my throat.

My Lord, you wore no royal crown;
you did not wield the powers of state,
nor did you need a scholar's gown
or priestly robe, to make you great.

You never used a killer's sword
to end an unjust tyranny;
your only weapon was your word,
for truth alone could set us free.

You did not live a world away
in hermit's cell or desert cave,
but felt our pain and shared each day
with those you came to seek and save.

You made no mean or cunning move,
chose no unworthy compromise,
but carved a track of burning love
through tangles of deceit and lies.

You came unequaled, undeserved,
to be what we were meant to be;
to serve, instead of being served,
a light for all the world to see.

So when I stumble, set me right;
command my life as you require;
let all your gifts be my delight
and you, my Lord, my one desire.

Slipped Disc on Religious Anomolies in the East West Divan Orchestra; and be impressed!

I've picked up a couple of interesting things from music blogs I follow.

The first is Slipped Disc, the blog of Norman Lebrecht, commentator and broadcaster on music, culture and politics, and an author. He comments on a review of the highly acclaimed, East West Diwan Orchestra, conducted by Daniel Barenboim, and made up of young Arab and Israeli players. Quoting Fiona Maddocks in the Observer, he says, 'It has been reported that some Muslim players in the orchestra were observing Ramadan by fasting until nightfall. It is interesting to note, in turn, that none of the Jewish players were observing the Sabbath. I have read no comment on this discrepancy. In a conflict that is avowedly faith-based, does one faith matter more than another?'

And he goes on to say, 'She has a point, and a very strong one. All creeds are respected in the orchestra's mission statement, but where some Muslim players maintain their observances and their pride in an ethical heritage, none of the Jewish Israelis, least of all their secular conductor, appears to show more than liberal disdain for the archaic rules of a discarded faith culture.

This is a serious shortcoming. Religious faith of all degrees, from mild affinity to wild fanaticism, lies at the heart of the Middle East conflict. If the Diwan does not represent all forms of faith, its role in the peace dialogue cannot be more than an ephemeral gesture.' It's created quite a stir!

In a follow-up post, he makes this statement, 'Whatever one's personal beliefs, however, all musicians ought to be aware that without religion there would be no music for them to play. It was the church that laid the foundations for symphonic music and a search for God that led most of the great composers to write as they did. Beethoven may have been anti-authority and Verdi anti-clerical, but with the lone exception of Richard Wagner it is hard to find a major composer before the 1918 who actively denied the existence of God and was not driven to compose by a religious impulse.' Again, the response is lively!

But then, for some pure entertainment, Tom Service, in his Guardian blog, directs us to an extraordinary performance of the Flight of the Bumble Bee, by The Philharmonics here. Sometimes you think you've heard it all, and then!