The Mockingbird Sings Bach

Photo by Alan And Elaine Wilson

Last week during an early morning practice session on my Petrof, I could have sworn that mockingbird singing in the tree out the window was practicing the Bach E-flat minor prelude with me. He’s got the chickadee, robin, cardinal and wren tunes all down real well. I guess he wanted to expand his repertoire.

When I paused in practice to listen to him, he kept going with what sounded to me like the opening theme of that Bach prelude. He tried some of the trills too.  

Later today I swept out the garage. When I took some trash around the side to the trash can, he smiled at me from his perch on the hedge. “Yes, M.B., I noticed you and I heard your fine song earlier.” Maybe I’ll start calling him J.S.

I admit it. I am a lover of birds. I love their songs, their interesting shapes and colors, their birdish ways. A lot of other people have this same passion . . .

St. Francis -  Most people have heard about this famous saint's friendship with animals and birds. Many have not heard this lovely piano piece by Franz Lizst, St. Francis Preaching to the Birds.

Here's an interesting new song by an emerging composer, Martin Sedek, Little Bird.

Eric Whitacre set Octavio Paz's poem Little Birds  for SATB choir and piano with a beautiful piano part (with it's running notes it pays homage to Gabriel Fauré). According to the composer it holds mysterious and magical effects, imitating delicate birds. It is a delightful piece with a lovely surprise ending.  

And lastly, the beloved Anglican preacher John Stott, was a great lover of birds. He was also a fine photographer. His book, The Birds Our Teachers: Biblical Lessons from a Lifelong Birdwatcher combines his outstanding  photographs of birds with insightful and interesting lessons learned from our fine feathered friends. Available at your local library or you can purchase a copy here new or used.

Music in the Trees

These trees out my window beg me to look up with them. Up, up, up toward higher things. That majestic southern pine off to the left with a twin thirty feet to the right . . . how many years growth did it take to become so sturdy and beckoning?   

 

The wind blows from the west and they gracefully wave toward the morning sun.  Birds of all kinds are flitting about their branches, landing here and there, first low and then high. Then singing their heart out from the pinnacle, small voice cascading over a wide world. 

If I were a tree, I wonder how tall I would be? 

If I were a bird, would I be brave enough to soar that high and sing such a fine song, flung uninhibitedly toward an unexpecting, yet perhaps grateful world?

Contemplating the tall pines out my window make me think of “The Pines of Rome” by Ottorino Respighi. I learned the piano part to that orchestral work when I auditioned for a spot as orchestral pianist with the Muncie Symphony Orchestra back in 1985. 

Here are two videos of movements from that inspiring work, the first by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra with video as it was conceived by Disney; the second with an outstanding video of a fine orchestra playing a movement from the work. 

The Pines of Rome - the Chicago Symphony

The Pines of Rome - Radio Sinfonie Orchester Stuttgart SWR

And all this reminds me of this lovely poem by Joyce Kilmer . . .

Trees

I think that I shall never see   
A poem lovely as a tree.   
   
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest   
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;   
   
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;   
   
A tree that may in summer wear   
A nest of robins in her hair;   
   
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;   
Who intimately lives with rain. 
   
Poems are made by fools like me,   
But only God can make a tree.

Here Comes the Sun

At Raulston Arboretum at NCSU

The sun shone beautifully today in North Carolina. 

Hope it’s been a good day in your part of the world too. The lyrics in these songs hit on a universal love for SUNSHINE ...

“Here comes the sun 

and I say, ‘it’s alright.’ ” 

from the Beatles No. 1 Hit

This John Denver hit was popular when I was in high school. I feel happy (and young!) listening to it this morning. 

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy.

Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.

Sunshine on the water looks so lovely.

Sunshine almost always makes me high.

My brother Jerry lived outside of Aspen in a cabin down the mountain from John and Annie Denver's home back in the 1980's. I can still picture the sunshine and landscape in that beautiful part of the Colorado Rockies.  

Edenton Street UMC Downtown Raleigh.

The Triangle--as we call this area around Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill--is riotous with thousands (millions?) of trees in bloom. The spring parade has begun! I love it!

The sun reflected like magic off the steeple in the photo below. My little camera didn't capture the sparkle very well, so use your imagination.





I spent a couple hours at the church this afternoon practicing for a recital next Sunday. Exquisite light poured in the sanctuary stained glass windows while I coaxed music out of the Yamaha grand.


This has been a lovely thing about my career in church music. Being alone in the sanctuary during such times is a beautiful, enriching way to spend one's morning or afternoon.

Connecting with Old Friends

A Facebook post by the Choral Music Sharing Community led me this evening to listen to Rachmaninoff's haunting setting of the Lord's Prayer, the Our Father - Отче наш.

Sung in Russian, I have no idea what they are saying, yet knowing it is the setting the world's most familiar and beloved Christian prayer, I know exactly what they are singing about, and my spirit prays too. This kind of music inspires deeply soul-searching prayer, not a tossed off "now I lay me down to sleep" ditty.

This is a great mystery — how one's spirit can connect in a spiritual bond of fellowship with people far removed or long gone from this world. The Russian singers and director who I will probably never meet; Rachmaninoff the composer who wrote this song (1873-1943); the artist who painted the icon Christ the Redeemer (seen with the video and below, Andrei Rublev, c.a. 1410 AD); and clear back to Jesus who taught this prayer to his disciples back around 30 AD/CE. 

Christ the Redeemer, Andrei Rublev

How this prayer text has survived these 2000 years is a great mystery itself. Indeed a miracle. Is there any other poem, prayer or text that is so widely known and used on a daily basis by millions around the world? 

If I wanted to make an argument here for the veracity of Christianity, that might be a phenomenon I'd consider highlighting. It's no wonder that listening to this music gives me goosebumps and makes my little space here in this room seem to glow with holy light.

Tenderness in Unexpected Places

The past couple of weeks I've been thinking about what it means to have a tender heart or to be tenderhearted in the most beautiful, Christian meaning of the word. The Lord sent me an elegant illustration of this through a friend, which prompted the following poem . . .

Detail from St. John's Bible

   And the Word became Flesh

     A Thank You Poem by Nancy Gerst

     A most unexpected gesture

     From the heart of a friend

     Took me by surprise

     Late one winter day as

     Spring was peeking

     Through the cracks in the door

     Of my winter weary soul.

Echoes of a December theme

Were brought to mind―

“The Word became flesh” ―

As a gift as real as Jesus in the flesh

Fell from an envelope sealed with Love

And timidly left at the door of my unsuspecting heart.

I lay wide awake that night pondering what moves

One soul to care how another soul feels,

To walk surreptitiously in another's shoes

Through challenges and disappointments

As words failed to take shape around

The deep thankfulness of my refreshed spirit.

Jesus with skin and caring eyes

Surprised me that day;

That’s how this kindness made me feel

And that was the best gift of all.

                            for R. by Nancy Gerst, March 3, 2012

Felix Mendelssohn wrote a whole collection of piano pieces that speak eloquently where words fail, Songs without Words.

Here is the lovely Op. 67, No.1 from that bouquet of melodies, recorded during a worship service prelude in 2005 with me at the piano.

This tender song, lullaby-like in it's angelic contours is one of the jewels in an amazing output from the heart and pen of a man who died at age 38, yet left the world a rich heritage in his many compositions.

An amazing project from our own day, The St. John's Bible, is a rich legacy for generations to come . . .

The Gospel of John FRONTISPIECE and INCIPIT

As with Rosy Steps the Morn

As the morning light begins to peek in my window, I'm reminded of several things, including that the Lord is with me in this day. 

In that spirit, I'd like to share a Recitative and Aria from Handel's oratorio THEODORA. Sung here so beautifully by Lorraine Hunt Lieberman. I am taking this thought with me into the day, "So from virtuous toil well-borne, raise Thou our hopes of endless light."

AS WITH ROSY STEPS THE MORN

 

Recitative

Ah! Whither should we fly, or fly from whom?
The Lord is still the same, today, for ever,
And his protection here, and everywhere.
Though gath'ring round our destin'd heads
The storm now thickens, and looks big with fate,
Still shall thy servants wait on Thee, O Lord,
And in thy saving mercy put their trust.

 

Air

As with rosy steps the morn,
Advancing, drives the shades of night,
So from virtuous toil well-borne,
Raise Thou our hopes of endless light.
Triumphant saviour, Lord of day,
Thou art the life, the light, the way!
As with rosy steps. . . da capo

The video at the above link shows this oratorio done in a very famous modern setting as an opera. If you are interested in the story for that oratorio/opera (which is based on the 4th century historical event) a tragedy about the Christian martyr Theodora, here is the link

A singer in the choir at Trinity Presbyterian in Charlottesville VA, Bob Srigley, sent me the link to this beautiful YouTube video last spring. Thanks Bob!