another journal excerpt:
21.01.2006 Taizé, St. Etienne Gardens, late afternoon.
i went down to the edge of the little pond and i threw in five stones. after i threw in each stone i waited until i became the ripples and then i waited until i could no longer tell which ripples were mine, were i, and which ripples were the ducks', the ducks. then i threw in another stone. the last two stones i looked at, and i brushed off some of the red and yellow french sand off of them - they had come from the middle of the little path and were covered with the path, having been in fact a part of it so soon before. i rubbed off the sand and thought, 'what is a rock but sand?' but i kept on, and i got down to the really hard sand that was pressed in the heat and the weight of the earth that bears my feet and this little pond. i think they were metamorphic rocks, which means they were changed in some moment when they thought they were still only sedimentary, still only sand and little rocks pressed together very tight. then i threw in these last two rocks. i waited for the first rock to become the ripples and for the ripples to become indistinguishable, unintelligible, unknown from the ducks or the wind, but a friendly dog came up and licked my hand so i missed that moment when all was transformed into reflections of itself. then i threw the last stone in after i had rubbed all of the parts of itself that only wished they had been transformed in the heat and the weighing down of the earth, but were only pressed on by the very little weight of my feet and other peoples' feet and glued by the very little rain from the day before.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
taize reflection part II (more crying - i am such a WUSS)
journal 22.01.2006 Taizé 11:45
perhaps the most beautiful thing i have ever seen.
today in the morning celebration of the Eucharist i was kind of crouched on the ground not knowing if i should sit all the way back down or what while others were receiving communion. There was some commotion behind me and to my right, where two brothers of taizé were distributing the sacrament. A small girl from town, about 8 years old, was standing between them holding a candle. The commotion had been caused by the boy receiving. He and 3 others are part of a French group of severly mentally and physically handicapped people who have been here since thursday night. they have lent a unique quality to common prayer times, as they often cry out or make noises, trying to communicate, to make their presence felt. or maybe they just do that. i don't know.
when i turned around to look, the action had already happened, and it looked as if the brother had placed the wafer in the boy's mouth, and in attempting to chew it, it had fallen out onto the ground. what i witnessed was the confused moment in which the brothers looked at each other and at the volunteer holding the boy, trying to figure out what to do. another volunteer came around awkwardly from behind (causing even more commotion as several of these in line were in wheelchairs) and picked up the host off of the floor and held it in his palms reverently.
then everyone just stood there for a moment. all of this was sort of obscured in my sight, so maybe the woman who was literally holding this boy upright was simply preparing to move him back to their place. but in that moment of stillness, i saw how the brother who had administered this lost host was looking at this boy. i'm sure that as a Eucharistic minister he was aware of the incredible sacrality of the consecrated host, and the myriad of technicalities that might be required of him to somehow atone for this profanation, but if any of that crossed his mind in that instant, he seemed totally unconcerned about it. in the moment i focused on his face, he was simply pouring out onto this boy a patient and overflowing love that knew nothing of regulations or restrictions, of purity or some sort of externally defined holiness. it was simply the human manifestation of the love symbolized in the body of Christ he was offering.
i was completely overcome in this moment - i feel so often like this boy - unable to move myself without another bearing almost all my weight, crying out into a sacred silence with nonsensical sounds that don't communicate anything, and when i'm allowed to participate in the most sacred of symbolic rites, i somehow manage to screw it up. the odd and unexpected realization of this week has been the power of paul's idea that God loved us 'while we were still sinners.' I haven't by anymeans become preoccupied with sin, and no guilt has been instilled or renewed in me. but i have been so moved by this idea that God's completeness, God's wholeness does not reject our brokenness, does not demand anything at all from us - any purification, any prerequisite understanding. God says yes to us in our human frailty, tempermentality, and even in the cruelty we show to those who preach only the radical extremes of inclusion and love.
and the other complementary realization and charge of this week has been that, like that brother, we must be the face of God's yes to others, to all others in the world. we must say yes, even to the last consequence to our brothers and sisters in brokenness.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
taizé reflection part 1
i don't know exactly how to approach this past week in taize, especially from the angle of writing about it in this blog. i guess i'll start with the facts and, as seems inevitable, reflections will edge their way into the picture. i took the bullet train from london to paris on sunday morning the 15th. that was just freaking cool. we were doing 90 mph easy, the cars on the parallel highways were no match for our razor cut through the northern french countryside. i also couldn't help thinking of mission: impossible. no helicopters in the chunnel, though. as far as i know.
made it to paris gare du nord right on time, only to realize just then that my next train to macon, near taize, left from gare de lyon. i figured it was a beautiful day, i'd make the trip on foot. but after i started out going the wrong way for a few minutes (something i like to do in every city i visit), i realized that i was more crunched for time than i had initially anticipated. add in a stop to take off my sweater which also involved an unintetional leaving-behind of my new glasses, and i was backtracking all over the city. made it onto the train with 2 minutes to spare, and i got strange looks from the well dressed young businessman sitting next to me, as i was pretty much in a full sweat.
in macon i met a man named johan from belgium who was also going to taizé, and he kindly explained to me some of the distant and recent events that have shaped taizé into what it is, most specifically the death of fr. roger, the founding brother in august. he was killed by a mentally disturbed woman from romania during one of the common prayer times. despite his relation of these disturbing events, johan was a very calming presence as i went further into the unknown. we made it to taizé at about 6:30, just in time for dinner and evening prayer. i was bunking down with 3 other guys in a small room, naturally the iron bars that enclosed each top bunk were a little constraining on my fully extended human form, but it was nonetheless comfortable.
there are 3 common prayer times at taizé that take place everyday just before or after meals, and last about 40 minutes, although some people choose to stay longer. the brothers of taizé, who have taken a set of vows to 'abandon themselves in silence and love' (also chastity, the old stand-by), kneel in the middle of the church, while all the 'permanents' (young people who come to live and work at taizé for 3months to a year) sit around the outside of their little area. each prayer time is a mix of beautiful, meditative song and silent prayer. these times were both frustrating and encouraging, as i was faced again and again with the difficulty of quieting my intellect and simply listening. the week as a whole provided many opportunities for me to reexamine my highly intellectual approach to faith.
there is a small medieval chapel in the adjacent town of taize (pop. less than 30) where i often went to pray in the down-time before dinner. i have never experienced such silence. i hesitated even to breathe, as even the slightest sound fairly resounded in this space. it was there on wednesday night that i had what i would call the most important conscious realization of the week.
as i mentioned before, moments of exterior silence througout the week often only highlighted the clamor of my interior. i felt and feel like my mind creates a static that obscures and scrambles any opportunity for supra-intellectual reflection. on wednesday i became, as usual, frustrated by this static and that was compounded by frustration at being unable to communicate with the many young people from Germany in their own language. i hate that english has become a sort of lowest common denominator in the international community. anyway, i said to myself in anger 'i can't understand! - i can't understand german - i cannot understand at all!' in this moment, i got the shivers and immediately started seriously disturbing the silence with the sniffles and even a few choked sobs.
i hesitate to admit this. i feel like i'm stretching this medium and perhaps showboating a bit. but i think it's worth it to make the force of this realization real. i can never understand all of what God is. God is beyond my understanding.
however, far from being a moment of defeat (although in many ways it was a moment of surrender), this was a liberation. first, i think God does want to be understood by us, however imperfectly our brains are able to conceive of God and however broken the language we might use to describe God is. that seems to me to be the true beauty and genius of the incarnation - God reveals Godself to us in human form, in terms comprehensible to us. secondly, our inability to completely understand does not preclude our ability to experience. we are in fact invited to experience 'the peace which passes all understanding.' so my search has been reoriented. more to come, my new friends are itching to see another incarnation of God - this one revealed out of marble by michaelangelo.
made it to paris gare du nord right on time, only to realize just then that my next train to macon, near taize, left from gare de lyon. i figured it was a beautiful day, i'd make the trip on foot. but after i started out going the wrong way for a few minutes (something i like to do in every city i visit), i realized that i was more crunched for time than i had initially anticipated. add in a stop to take off my sweater which also involved an unintetional leaving-behind of my new glasses, and i was backtracking all over the city. made it onto the train with 2 minutes to spare, and i got strange looks from the well dressed young businessman sitting next to me, as i was pretty much in a full sweat.
in macon i met a man named johan from belgium who was also going to taizé, and he kindly explained to me some of the distant and recent events that have shaped taizé into what it is, most specifically the death of fr. roger, the founding brother in august. he was killed by a mentally disturbed woman from romania during one of the common prayer times. despite his relation of these disturbing events, johan was a very calming presence as i went further into the unknown. we made it to taizé at about 6:30, just in time for dinner and evening prayer. i was bunking down with 3 other guys in a small room, naturally the iron bars that enclosed each top bunk were a little constraining on my fully extended human form, but it was nonetheless comfortable.
there are 3 common prayer times at taizé that take place everyday just before or after meals, and last about 40 minutes, although some people choose to stay longer. the brothers of taizé, who have taken a set of vows to 'abandon themselves in silence and love' (also chastity, the old stand-by), kneel in the middle of the church, while all the 'permanents' (young people who come to live and work at taizé for 3months to a year) sit around the outside of their little area. each prayer time is a mix of beautiful, meditative song and silent prayer. these times were both frustrating and encouraging, as i was faced again and again with the difficulty of quieting my intellect and simply listening. the week as a whole provided many opportunities for me to reexamine my highly intellectual approach to faith.
there is a small medieval chapel in the adjacent town of taize (pop. less than 30) where i often went to pray in the down-time before dinner. i have never experienced such silence. i hesitated even to breathe, as even the slightest sound fairly resounded in this space. it was there on wednesday night that i had what i would call the most important conscious realization of the week.
as i mentioned before, moments of exterior silence througout the week often only highlighted the clamor of my interior. i felt and feel like my mind creates a static that obscures and scrambles any opportunity for supra-intellectual reflection. on wednesday i became, as usual, frustrated by this static and that was compounded by frustration at being unable to communicate with the many young people from Germany in their own language. i hate that english has become a sort of lowest common denominator in the international community. anyway, i said to myself in anger 'i can't understand! - i can't understand german - i cannot understand at all!' in this moment, i got the shivers and immediately started seriously disturbing the silence with the sniffles and even a few choked sobs.
i hesitate to admit this. i feel like i'm stretching this medium and perhaps showboating a bit. but i think it's worth it to make the force of this realization real. i can never understand all of what God is. God is beyond my understanding.
however, far from being a moment of defeat (although in many ways it was a moment of surrender), this was a liberation. first, i think God does want to be understood by us, however imperfectly our brains are able to conceive of God and however broken the language we might use to describe God is. that seems to me to be the true beauty and genius of the incarnation - God reveals Godself to us in human form, in terms comprehensible to us. secondly, our inability to completely understand does not preclude our ability to experience. we are in fact invited to experience 'the peace which passes all understanding.' so my search has been reoriented. more to come, my new friends are itching to see another incarnation of God - this one revealed out of marble by michaelangelo.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
notes on taize
i don't know exactly how to approach this past week in taize, especially from the angle of writing about it in this blog. i guess i'll start with the facts and, as seems inevitable, reflections will edge their way into the picture.
i took the bullet train from london to paris on sunday morning the 15th. that was just freaking cool. we were doing 90 mph easy, the cars on the parallel highways were no match for our razor cut through the northern french countryside. i also couldn't help thinking of mission: impossible. no helicopters in the chunnel, though. as far as i know.
made it to paris gare du nord right on time, only to realize just then that my next train to macon, near taize, left from gare de lyon. i figured it was a beautiful day, i'd make the trip on foot. but after i started out going the wrong way for a few minutes (something i like to do in every city i visit), i realized that i was more crunched for time than i had initially anticipated. add in a stop to take off my sweater which also involved an unintetional leaving-behind of my new glasses, and i was backtracking all over the city. made it onto the train with 2 minutes to spare, and i got strange looks from the well dressed young businessman sitting next to me, as i was pretty much in a full sweat.
in macon i met a man named johan from belgium who was also going to taize, and he kindly explained to me some of the distant and recent events that have shaped tiaze into what it is. he was also a very calming presence as i went further into the unknown. we made it to taize at about 6:30, just in time for dinner and evening prayer. i was bunking down with 3 other guys in a small room, naturally the iron bars that enclosed each top bunk were a little constraining on my fully extended human form, but it was nonetheless comfortable.
there are 3 common prayer times at taize that take place everyday just before or after meals, and last about 40 minutes, although some people choose to stay longer. the brothers of taize, who have taken a set of vows to 'abandon themselves in silence and love' (also chastity, the old stand-by), kneel in the middle of the church, while all the 'permanents' (young people who come to live and work at taize for 3months to a year) sit around the outside of their little area. each prayer time is a mix of beautiful, meditative song and silent prayer.
these times were both frustrating and encouraging, as i was faced again and again with the difficulty of quieting my intellect and simply listening. the week as a whole provided many opportunities for me to reexamine my highly intellectual approach to faith. there is a small medieval chapel in the adjacent town of taize (pop. <>never understand all of what God is. for God is beyond our understanding.
but far from being a moment of defeat (although in many ways it was a moment of surrender), this was a liberation. first, i think God does want to be understood by us, however imperfectly our brains are able to conceive of God and however broken the language we might use to describe God is. that seems to me to be the true beauty and genius of the incarnation - God reveals Godself to us in human form, in terms comprehensible to us. secondly, our inability to completely understand does not preclude our inability to experience. we are in fact invited to experience 'the peace which passes all understanding.'
so my search has been reoriented. more to come, my new friends are itching to see another incarnation of God - this one revealed out of marble by michaelangelo.
i took the bullet train from london to paris on sunday morning the 15th. that was just freaking cool. we were doing 90 mph easy, the cars on the parallel highways were no match for our razor cut through the northern french countryside. i also couldn't help thinking of mission: impossible. no helicopters in the chunnel, though. as far as i know.
made it to paris gare du nord right on time, only to realize just then that my next train to macon, near taize, left from gare de lyon. i figured it was a beautiful day, i'd make the trip on foot. but after i started out going the wrong way for a few minutes (something i like to do in every city i visit), i realized that i was more crunched for time than i had initially anticipated. add in a stop to take off my sweater which also involved an unintetional leaving-behind of my new glasses, and i was backtracking all over the city. made it onto the train with 2 minutes to spare, and i got strange looks from the well dressed young businessman sitting next to me, as i was pretty much in a full sweat.
in macon i met a man named johan from belgium who was also going to taize, and he kindly explained to me some of the distant and recent events that have shaped tiaze into what it is. he was also a very calming presence as i went further into the unknown. we made it to taize at about 6:30, just in time for dinner and evening prayer. i was bunking down with 3 other guys in a small room, naturally the iron bars that enclosed each top bunk were a little constraining on my fully extended human form, but it was nonetheless comfortable.
there are 3 common prayer times at taize that take place everyday just before or after meals, and last about 40 minutes, although some people choose to stay longer. the brothers of taize, who have taken a set of vows to 'abandon themselves in silence and love' (also chastity, the old stand-by), kneel in the middle of the church, while all the 'permanents' (young people who come to live and work at taize for 3months to a year) sit around the outside of their little area. each prayer time is a mix of beautiful, meditative song and silent prayer.
these times were both frustrating and encouraging, as i was faced again and again with the difficulty of quieting my intellect and simply listening. the week as a whole provided many opportunities for me to reexamine my highly intellectual approach to faith. there is a small medieval chapel in the adjacent town of taize (pop. <>never understand all of what God is. for God is beyond our understanding.
but far from being a moment of defeat (although in many ways it was a moment of surrender), this was a liberation. first, i think God does want to be understood by us, however imperfectly our brains are able to conceive of God and however broken the language we might use to describe God is. that seems to me to be the true beauty and genius of the incarnation - God reveals Godself to us in human form, in terms comprehensible to us. secondly, our inability to completely understand does not preclude our inability to experience. we are in fact invited to experience 'the peace which passes all understanding.'
so my search has been reoriented. more to come, my new friends are itching to see another incarnation of God - this one revealed out of marble by michaelangelo.
Monday, January 23, 2006
florence!
hello friends and family. i arrived in florence this morning at about 7:30. i left dijon last night at 9:45, and spent the night in a 'couchette,' which apparently is french for 6 strangers sleeping together in a small closet.
i will write about my taize experience in a few days, i don't have the time to be faithful to it. in a few words, i realized that there is much that i will never be able to understand. and this is actually alright. also, i realized that there are non-intellectual ways of understanding things. i cried some. i spent a lot of time in silence, and i wrote a poem which i actually like. to be posted.
anyway, i must tell briefly of my adventure this morning. as the train pulled into florence, i heard a young woman speaking to another passenger, and she her accent and demeanor suggested to me that she was a fellow of the american genus, and probably of the collegiate species. i had the most recent issue of newsweek - a friend at taize had given it to me - and i offered it to her. we got to talking, and her name was emily and she was in florence to visit her friend sarah, here on a syracuse university program. they both go to oberlin, and they know my good friend nils's sister (also sarah). so that was a connection. but then it came out that i went to the u of r. emily is from binghamton, ny, and she knows both robert cavanaugh and becky hayes, friends and acquaintances of mine. i was in london with robert, in fact.
to make things only slightly more surreal, i didn't have a plan, and i had lost the information of the hostel where i would be staying, so i decided to walk with them to emily's hostel, hoping to find an internet cafe on the way where i could find again the confirmation from the hostel. we walked to this hostel, which was a hike up to a palatial villa. when we got there, she checked in, and i thought, i've got nothing to lose. so i asked if i had made a reservation. in fact, i had. two complete strangers had not only reconnected me to various friends back home, they had led me to my place of rest for the next two nights. mysterious ways.
i gotta go hang out with these cool girls now, i think we're going to see the david. more on taize next time. i swear. also, i would encourage anyone to make a reservation to spend some time there. silence...i've never been more crazy or more sane. paradox, a theme of the week.
i will write about my taize experience in a few days, i don't have the time to be faithful to it. in a few words, i realized that there is much that i will never be able to understand. and this is actually alright. also, i realized that there are non-intellectual ways of understanding things. i cried some. i spent a lot of time in silence, and i wrote a poem which i actually like. to be posted.
anyway, i must tell briefly of my adventure this morning. as the train pulled into florence, i heard a young woman speaking to another passenger, and she her accent and demeanor suggested to me that she was a fellow of the american genus, and probably of the collegiate species. i had the most recent issue of newsweek - a friend at taize had given it to me - and i offered it to her. we got to talking, and her name was emily and she was in florence to visit her friend sarah, here on a syracuse university program. they both go to oberlin, and they know my good friend nils's sister (also sarah). so that was a connection. but then it came out that i went to the u of r. emily is from binghamton, ny, and she knows both robert cavanaugh and becky hayes, friends and acquaintances of mine. i was in london with robert, in fact.
to make things only slightly more surreal, i didn't have a plan, and i had lost the information of the hostel where i would be staying, so i decided to walk with them to emily's hostel, hoping to find an internet cafe on the way where i could find again the confirmation from the hostel. we walked to this hostel, which was a hike up to a palatial villa. when we got there, she checked in, and i thought, i've got nothing to lose. so i asked if i had made a reservation. in fact, i had. two complete strangers had not only reconnected me to various friends back home, they had led me to my place of rest for the next two nights. mysterious ways.
i gotta go hang out with these cool girls now, i think we're going to see the david. more on taize next time. i swear. also, i would encourage anyone to make a reservation to spend some time there. silence...i've never been more crazy or more sane. paradox, a theme of the week.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
scene change
dear virtual community,
this time in london is winding down and i have very mixed feelings about it. the pace of this program has made me quite ready for it to be over, and i'm ready for a change of scenery, but i will miss dreadfully the intellectual stimulation and more importantly the friendships that have been made and strengthened here.
tomorrow morning i am taking a TGV train (that means i'm going through the CHUNNEL at high speeds - psyched) to paris, where i will have a brief layover and then on to the taize community near dijon. for those looking for more information on this religious community founded in the wake of WWII, check out www.taize.fr.
a week from tomorrow i train overnight to florence, where i'm kicking around and staying at a youth hostel monday and tuesday nights. wednesday the 25th i meet up with the other participants in the arezzo program, and we're off to some villa for a 4 day orientation. the availability of internet will probably be spotty through this next week and a half, but i like nothing better than opening up my inbox to find it full of messages from recognizable and friendly addresses. until then -
this time in london is winding down and i have very mixed feelings about it. the pace of this program has made me quite ready for it to be over, and i'm ready for a change of scenery, but i will miss dreadfully the intellectual stimulation and more importantly the friendships that have been made and strengthened here.
tomorrow morning i am taking a TGV train (that means i'm going through the CHUNNEL at high speeds - psyched) to paris, where i will have a brief layover and then on to the taize community near dijon. for those looking for more information on this religious community founded in the wake of WWII, check out www.taize.fr.
a week from tomorrow i train overnight to florence, where i'm kicking around and staying at a youth hostel monday and tuesday nights. wednesday the 25th i meet up with the other participants in the arezzo program, and we're off to some villa for a 4 day orientation. the availability of internet will probably be spotty through this next week and a half, but i like nothing better than opening up my inbox to find it full of messages from recognizable and friendly addresses. until then -
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
sunday, surreal
ok, so this past sunday was a little weird. it was a great day all around, but i think the polarity of events will be clear.
my roommates tom and ted and i went on our habitual morning run at 7:00 down to the thames, where tom (while runnning himself) took a picture of us running across the waterloo bridge with big ben in the background. we then undertook a discussion of whether or not tom's speed had precisely matched that of ted and i, of whether the picture would turn out, of how sweet it would be if ted and i were in perfect focus while big ben was slightly blurred. we're all very excited to see the print.
then we had our full english breakfasts (FEB's, as they have come to be affectionately known), over which we discussed whether or not we were all addicted to full english breakfasts. as a collective, room 14 is very passionate about transparency. nothing is sacred in our tete-a-tetes. not even our most sacred ritual, the morning FEB.
after our morning class, most of the group went down to westminster abbey for a sung eucharist service. it was fantastic! thanks to professor peck's connections and perseverance in making reservations for our group, we were allowed to sit in the choir in the central chancel. these seats are used during big functions for dignitaries from foreign lands and officials within the anglican church. we were directly between the organ and the choir, both of which were near the top of their game. i sang as loud as possible during the hymns. quite seriously, the service was very moving, and perhaps i'll write about some of my thoughts about the eucharist itself in a few days. i feel like i have had a realization.
professor and mrs. peck, tom, my friend erin, and i went back to the hotel and had a delightful lunch, and after a brief lay-down we went to the playhouse theatre near trafalgar square to see a production of Luigi Pirandello's Come tu mi vuoi ('As You Desire Me'), starring Kristen Scott Thomas, who was phenomenal.
after the play, i walked through the rain with prof. and mrs. peck to conway hall, where we took in a really great chamber music concert by the primrose piano quartet. the violist was playing on an instrument made in 1630, and we were all impressed. what was of even more interest than the brahms piano quartet in c minor was the fact that this conway hall is the local headquarters of the National Secular Society of britain. the hall itself used to be a church, but it's fascinating to see how all religious imagery and ornamentation has been removed, replaced by only the words 'To Thy Own Self Be True' above the stage area. the atmosphere lent a certain pugilistic connotation to these words, as if the people gathered there would feel their very 'selves' under attack from an oppressive external force. which, to take a look at the literature available, seems to be precisely how secularists in britain feel. the issue i picked up was declaring the newly elected 'secularist of the year,' who apparently is particularly skilled at angering the british muslim community. three cheers.
anyway, i'll end things there, with the surreality of worshipping in WESTMINSTER ABBEY and then 5 hours later to be in a militantly secular space, both of which had some pretty swinging music. perhaps this is a bridging element. i hope so.
oh yeah, after the concert i went out with nearly everyone on the trip to a bar called 'revolution,' which had taken on a bolshevik theme, red stars and everything. the subtitle was the very spartanly worded 'vodka and food.' what else would a good comrade need? it was quite humorous to note that even the iconography of communism has been successfully commodified. also reassuring to know that such a trading on principle is happening outside of the united states. apparently other people in the world are also shameless capitalists. ah, thoughts of home. miss you all.
my roommates tom and ted and i went on our habitual morning run at 7:00 down to the thames, where tom (while runnning himself) took a picture of us running across the waterloo bridge with big ben in the background. we then undertook a discussion of whether or not tom's speed had precisely matched that of ted and i, of whether the picture would turn out, of how sweet it would be if ted and i were in perfect focus while big ben was slightly blurred. we're all very excited to see the print.
then we had our full english breakfasts (FEB's, as they have come to be affectionately known), over which we discussed whether or not we were all addicted to full english breakfasts. as a collective, room 14 is very passionate about transparency. nothing is sacred in our tete-a-tetes. not even our most sacred ritual, the morning FEB.
after our morning class, most of the group went down to westminster abbey for a sung eucharist service. it was fantastic! thanks to professor peck's connections and perseverance in making reservations for our group, we were allowed to sit in the choir in the central chancel. these seats are used during big functions for dignitaries from foreign lands and officials within the anglican church. we were directly between the organ and the choir, both of which were near the top of their game. i sang as loud as possible during the hymns. quite seriously, the service was very moving, and perhaps i'll write about some of my thoughts about the eucharist itself in a few days. i feel like i have had a realization.
professor and mrs. peck, tom, my friend erin, and i went back to the hotel and had a delightful lunch, and after a brief lay-down we went to the playhouse theatre near trafalgar square to see a production of Luigi Pirandello's Come tu mi vuoi ('As You Desire Me'), starring Kristen Scott Thomas, who was phenomenal.
after the play, i walked through the rain with prof. and mrs. peck to conway hall, where we took in a really great chamber music concert by the primrose piano quartet. the violist was playing on an instrument made in 1630, and we were all impressed. what was of even more interest than the brahms piano quartet in c minor was the fact that this conway hall is the local headquarters of the National Secular Society of britain. the hall itself used to be a church, but it's fascinating to see how all religious imagery and ornamentation has been removed, replaced by only the words 'To Thy Own Self Be True' above the stage area. the atmosphere lent a certain pugilistic connotation to these words, as if the people gathered there would feel their very 'selves' under attack from an oppressive external force. which, to take a look at the literature available, seems to be precisely how secularists in britain feel. the issue i picked up was declaring the newly elected 'secularist of the year,' who apparently is particularly skilled at angering the british muslim community. three cheers.
anyway, i'll end things there, with the surreality of worshipping in WESTMINSTER ABBEY and then 5 hours later to be in a militantly secular space, both of which had some pretty swinging music. perhaps this is a bridging element. i hope so.
oh yeah, after the concert i went out with nearly everyone on the trip to a bar called 'revolution,' which had taken on a bolshevik theme, red stars and everything. the subtitle was the very spartanly worded 'vodka and food.' what else would a good comrade need? it was quite humorous to note that even the iconography of communism has been successfully commodified. also reassuring to know that such a trading on principle is happening outside of the united states. apparently other people in the world are also shameless capitalists. ah, thoughts of home. miss you all.
Friday, January 06, 2006
i have been going to plays
i have been going to many interesting plays in the past week. most notably, tonight i saw the play 'paul,' which dramatizes the strengths, weaknesses, and even the psychosis of the apostle Paul. in this creation, yeshua did not in fact die on the cross, nor was he resurrected. joseph of aramithea bribed the centurion to let yeshua down, and he survived the crucifixion. he then appeared to paul in the flesh on the road to damascus as a political trick by james and peter to free the early christian movement from saul's vicious persecution. paul then used his unprecedented and unparalleled fervor for the risen Christ to not only raise congregations throughout the mediterranean, but also to persuade even those apostles who knew yeshua to accept and believe in his own mythologized Jesus Christ. anyway, it was really interesting. and that's all i have to say about that.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
liminal spaces
in my first post i had meant to offer some explanation of this title - 'in the middle of the journey of our life.' this is the first line of dante's divine comedy, the inferno cantica.
i was having a discussion with my friend tom about 'liminal spaces' - an idea that was imparted to me from the golden tongue of one patrick o'brien. it came up after we saw a plaque in hyde park that referenced lewis carroll, author of 'alice in wonderland.' a liminal space is a sort of boundary area, an amorphous threshold between the known realm and that which lies beyond our capacity to anticipate - the otherworldly, the creepy.
the opening of dante's divine comedy finds the poem's main character - dante himself - in such a space, at the foot of a mountain he cannot climb. his path is blocked by a variety of threatening obstacles, and he is paralyzed with an awareness of his own helplessness and lack of direction in 'the dark wood' he finds himself in. what's interesting is that he writes with all the emphasis inherent in the very first line of a 3 volume epic poem encompassing politics, history, literature, philosophy, and theology that he finds himself there in the journey of OUR life. this is not just a personal journey. his reader is invited along as he himself is guided 'by another way' at the heels of his guide, the poet vergil.
now, i destest melodrama, but to an extent i can empathize with the sentiments of that high poet and humble pilgrim. mainly, i'm aware that the challenges of this trip are insurmountable by my own power and wits alone. and whatever mountain of virtue or wisdom that demands my ascent may need be approached by a circuitous, unknown route. and right now, that knowledge is creeping me out. i'm trying to keep my eyes open for white rabbits.
i was having a discussion with my friend tom about 'liminal spaces' - an idea that was imparted to me from the golden tongue of one patrick o'brien. it came up after we saw a plaque in hyde park that referenced lewis carroll, author of 'alice in wonderland.' a liminal space is a sort of boundary area, an amorphous threshold between the known realm and that which lies beyond our capacity to anticipate - the otherworldly, the creepy.
the opening of dante's divine comedy finds the poem's main character - dante himself - in such a space, at the foot of a mountain he cannot climb. his path is blocked by a variety of threatening obstacles, and he is paralyzed with an awareness of his own helplessness and lack of direction in 'the dark wood' he finds himself in. what's interesting is that he writes with all the emphasis inherent in the very first line of a 3 volume epic poem encompassing politics, history, literature, philosophy, and theology that he finds himself there in the journey of OUR life. this is not just a personal journey. his reader is invited along as he himself is guided 'by another way' at the heels of his guide, the poet vergil.
now, i destest melodrama, but to an extent i can empathize with the sentiments of that high poet and humble pilgrim. mainly, i'm aware that the challenges of this trip are insurmountable by my own power and wits alone. and whatever mountain of virtue or wisdom that demands my ascent may need be approached by a circuitous, unknown route. and right now, that knowledge is creeping me out. i'm trying to keep my eyes open for white rabbits.
Monday, January 02, 2006
new year's revelry
i must first note that whoever last logged into 'blogspot.com' on this computer changed all the language settings to some eastern characters that i don't recognize. so i'm flying blind here. but aren't we all.
i'm frustrated by this medium - i've got 20 minutes to write something i hope you all might find relatively interesting, and i'm not sure if you want specific discourse on topics i've been reflecting on, or if a play by play of my activities is more appropriate. i'd like it to be more towards the former, because being abroad is stimulating my thinking on a number of issues i felt more or less blocked up in while in rochester. but, considering that it was just new years (and new year's eve just before that), i do feel obligated to relate to you my very sweet evening.
we all saw a production of Thomas Middleton's 'A New Way to Please You' in the afternoon of the 31st, and then after dinner we moved to Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night' - it was a fantastic production that I enjoyed immensely. the music in particular was somewhat entrancing - it lent a 3-dimensional pathos to the whole play, but especially to the character Feste - the fool - that was entirely absent in the literal text.
after the play a group of 12 of us headed down to the 'food mart: express' to buy beer or wine, each according to his or her taste, and walked slowly over the waterloo bridge towards the national theatre. we took our time because london at night is beautiful and the city was especially dolled up for the holiday - images were projected on buildings, lights were shone into the sky - it was breathtaking. while people around us were setting up camp for the evening as this would be an ideal spot to see the fireworks set off over the thames by the london eye, we moved on and walked along the thames, eventually ending up at big ben, where we experienced the ritual rebirth of time with about 50,000 other people. it was great.
after midnight we quickly decided to head towards trafalgar square, another population center for the evening, but the street was blocked. at this juncture, we were packed in together as tightly as possible, and moved only by the whim of the crowd. because i am tall and visible, most people in the general area seemed to blame me for being shoved this way and that. i felt bad that they weren't in control of their own movement, but hey - we were all in the same boat and i had some girl's deceptively pointy purse shoved up under my ribs for 20 minutes. give me a break.
we ended up moving across the westminster bridge (away from our hotel, to the wrong side of the thames), being swept into these currents of people that moved seemingly without any individual volition. it was an interesting commentary on collective action, and exhilarating as it was unnerving. the downside of these powerfully pumping arteries of personhood was that half our group was in an instant shunted off into another branch of the social body and were ultimately turned around. we were separated and would not be rejoined until 2 hours later at the hotel. my group, now of four, took a round about route back to the hotel, as i, apparently the leader, forgot we were now on the wrong side of the thames and headed west when east should have been our heading. but we made it back.
however when we did arrive back at the hotel and were rejoined shortly after by our diverted fellows, we were 2 short of our original 12. my good friend tom and i immediately set out to look for them. so we scoured every place we had been that evening for the next hour and a half, returning to the hotel around 4am, only to learn that our lost lambs had gotten back of their own accord about 15 minutes after we had left. but such is the stuff of stories. about new year's.
i close this entry with an invitation to you all. check out this website: www.earthfromtheair.com
this is a virtual version of an exhibit on display near the tower bridge - the artist/photographer yannthus bertrand, in partnership with UNESCO is in the midst of an extensive series of aerial photographs of natural and human phenomena. the pictures are stunning, and the captions are poignantly conscious of the complex interrelationship between human and natural forces of beauty and destruction. the most intriguing and moving pictures are those in which the two interact in a single frame. i love the one of the man on the bales of cotton, but it's hard to pick a favorite.
i don't miss the states much right now, but i do miss you that populate them. peace to you all and happy new year.
i'm frustrated by this medium - i've got 20 minutes to write something i hope you all might find relatively interesting, and i'm not sure if you want specific discourse on topics i've been reflecting on, or if a play by play of my activities is more appropriate. i'd like it to be more towards the former, because being abroad is stimulating my thinking on a number of issues i felt more or less blocked up in while in rochester. but, considering that it was just new years (and new year's eve just before that), i do feel obligated to relate to you my very sweet evening.
we all saw a production of Thomas Middleton's 'A New Way to Please You' in the afternoon of the 31st, and then after dinner we moved to Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night' - it was a fantastic production that I enjoyed immensely. the music in particular was somewhat entrancing - it lent a 3-dimensional pathos to the whole play, but especially to the character Feste - the fool - that was entirely absent in the literal text.
after the play a group of 12 of us headed down to the 'food mart: express' to buy beer or wine, each according to his or her taste, and walked slowly over the waterloo bridge towards the national theatre. we took our time because london at night is beautiful and the city was especially dolled up for the holiday - images were projected on buildings, lights were shone into the sky - it was breathtaking. while people around us were setting up camp for the evening as this would be an ideal spot to see the fireworks set off over the thames by the london eye, we moved on and walked along the thames, eventually ending up at big ben, where we experienced the ritual rebirth of time with about 50,000 other people. it was great.
after midnight we quickly decided to head towards trafalgar square, another population center for the evening, but the street was blocked. at this juncture, we were packed in together as tightly as possible, and moved only by the whim of the crowd. because i am tall and visible, most people in the general area seemed to blame me for being shoved this way and that. i felt bad that they weren't in control of their own movement, but hey - we were all in the same boat and i had some girl's deceptively pointy purse shoved up under my ribs for 20 minutes. give me a break.
we ended up moving across the westminster bridge (away from our hotel, to the wrong side of the thames), being swept into these currents of people that moved seemingly without any individual volition. it was an interesting commentary on collective action, and exhilarating as it was unnerving. the downside of these powerfully pumping arteries of personhood was that half our group was in an instant shunted off into another branch of the social body and were ultimately turned around. we were separated and would not be rejoined until 2 hours later at the hotel. my group, now of four, took a round about route back to the hotel, as i, apparently the leader, forgot we were now on the wrong side of the thames and headed west when east should have been our heading. but we made it back.
however when we did arrive back at the hotel and were rejoined shortly after by our diverted fellows, we were 2 short of our original 12. my good friend tom and i immediately set out to look for them. so we scoured every place we had been that evening for the next hour and a half, returning to the hotel around 4am, only to learn that our lost lambs had gotten back of their own accord about 15 minutes after we had left. but such is the stuff of stories. about new year's.
i close this entry with an invitation to you all. check out this website: www.earthfromtheair.com
this is a virtual version of an exhibit on display near the tower bridge - the artist/photographer yannthus bertrand, in partnership with UNESCO is in the midst of an extensive series of aerial photographs of natural and human phenomena. the pictures are stunning, and the captions are poignantly conscious of the complex interrelationship between human and natural forces of beauty and destruction. the most intriguing and moving pictures are those in which the two interact in a single frame. i love the one of the man on the bales of cotton, but it's hard to pick a favorite.
i don't miss the states much right now, but i do miss you that populate them. peace to you all and happy new year.
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