I had the distinct pleasure this weekend of listening to my husband and 350 other voices sing a passionate liturgy of death, interspersed with the gut-wrenchingly real poetry of Wilfred Owen in the full production of Benjamin Britten's War Requiem. I'm blessed to have such a talented husband who can bring me music that, for once in my life, I didn't want to sing... I just wanted to drown in.
In this soaring, crashing, whispering allegory of humanity, the father of nations faced a choice at the altar:
Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, and slew his son.
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.
How far have we come from the garden, when pride leads us to slaughter our brothers? And how shall we ever find our way back?
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5 comments:
I asked Tom if you were in St.John's yesterday. Looks like the answer is no.
The girls are already tired of funerals with pictures of the deceased in his WWII uniform. They want to go back to St. John's and witness christenings. Here, the score is 4 funerals to 1 christening since we moved in.
And there's another funeral Wednesday. Can't get away from WWII in that generation. Never mind our local steel mill is doing good business - making the armor plate that repels the blast from IEDs in Iraq. Local prosperity, for a bad reason.
I would have been nice to have heard this!
Lookinf forward to seeing you two!
Music. I was thinking the other day that I need to reconnect to music. Sure, I listen to the classical station each day. But that's about it. And I believe my soul is in need.
How blessed you are to have heard this!
Musica si, guerra no. Wish you could be helping us for Pascha too.
Off topic here...
Did you finish Kristin Lavransdatter? What did you think? (I have my own opinions, but I'll let you talk first. :)
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