Sir Edward Elgar, My Dad, and Me

Last Saturday evening I got to perform Edward Elgar's symphonic work, Enigma Variations, for only the second time in my life. It's a lovely piece introduced by a short theme, followed by 14 musical variations, all based upon family members or close friends of Elgar's. Each variation, save one, has initials or a name to identify its human inspiration. My favorite variation has to be the one entitled "Nimrod," and Saturday I played it with tears trickling down my face.

When I was in 6th grade, my elementary school music teacher had me start working on the slow movement of Mozart's Third Horn Concerto. My father, also a music teacher, believed that I couldn't properly play such a piece because I was too young to understand its deep meaning, and requested that I not play it yet.

I don't know what my dad thought about me playing the Elgar piece when I was only fifteen, but I fell in love with it then, and I love it still. Perhaps I was too young to give the very emotional "Nimrod" variation its full due. But I think back to what I had experienced in my life at that time. Even at the tender age of fifteen, I had experienced several significant events of both sadness and joy. Thirty-six years later, I have certainly lived many more joys and disappointments, enabling me to play the variation with more pathos, but the music is so beautiful and universal, I think it can be appreciated by people of all ages.

Why was I crying? I cried because the last time I played the piece, my dad sat in on both the rehearsals and the final performance. This time, my dad is gone and I don't know where he's spending eternity. I cried because I didn't get to call him and tell him how good the concert was. I cried because this time I played the Elgar, my daughter was in the concert hall, and I want so very much to be a good mother to her and our son. I cried because the piece was so beautiful. The fact that good composers can dream up such beauty and commit it to paper for others to play for years after they are gone is truly a miracle.

Thank you, Lord, for imperfect parents, for great composers, and for ears and hearts to experience beautiful music.

Mrs. Edward Elgar

I am playing a concert tomorrow evening which includes a favorite piece of mine by British composer Edward Elgar (1857-1934). Although he's not a household name, most every adult can hum one of his most famous pieces, Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1. Otherwise known as the music that gets played over and over at graduations.



In reading about his life, I ran across this little bit about his wife in this article. Oh, that I could be such a blessing to MY husband!

In 1920, Lady Elgar died and with her died much of Elgar's inspiration and will to compose. She had organised his household and ministered to his comforts. For a long time she saved him hours of drudgery, for instance by ruling bar lines on score paper. She walked miles in all weathers to post precious parcels of manuscript and proofs. In the early days of their marriage she had collaborated with him to produce such works as Scenes from the Bavarian Highlands (1896) - Elgar's settings of his wife's poems inspired by holidays spent in Germany. At times when success seemed forever to be eluding him, she never lost faith. In short, she had been the driving force behind his genius encouraging him and proclaiming his talents at every opportunity.

Interestingly, her family had discouraged her from marrying the man who was beneath her. Elgar, the son of a tradesman and a lowly music teacher "without prospects," wasn't good enough for their girl. He eventually became one of Britain's most loved composers and was knighted for his accomplishments.

Thank you, Lord, for Caroline Alice Roberts Elgar, who provides us with an example of a woman who had faith in her husband and played a vital role in his life and career.

Public Schools

Jim Mullen, author of the book in my previous post, rode the NYC subway and spied this ad:







We're Hiring!
New York Public Schools Want Bilingual College Grads
Qualified as
School Psychologists
Social Workers
Teachers of Special Education
Teachers of Speech Improvement
Guidance Counselors

Then he commented:
New York City public school students are reading two years below grade level. Am I the only one to notice they want everything but regular classroom teachers?

As a teacher (16 years in the government schools), I often wondered about this myself! How thankful I am that we've been able to home school our children.

"It Takes a Village Idiot"

I just finished enjoying the book "It Takes a Village Idiot" by Jim Mullen. The author and his wife lived in Greenwich Village and enjoyed all the perks that urban life had to offer. When Mullen's wife bought a country house in the Catskills, a three hour drive from Manhattan, Mullen initially looked down his nose at the people and their way of life. The book chronicles Mullen's metamorphosis from die-hard New Yorker to a full-time resident of the Catskills. Mullen, with his self-deprecating humor, deftly makes life in the Big Apple look quite futile, while showing the beauty and meaning of living and working hard in the "Boonies."

This is no how-to book for persons hoping to make the move from the city to the country. Nor is it the journal of someone who deliberately left the city for an agrarian lifestyle. The author doesn't appear to be a Christian and some of the language is "colorful," but it's a funny and entertaining read, nonetheless. The longer Mullen spends on their Catskills property, the more poetic he becomes, but he never loses his sense of humor. I was ready for something light-hearted to read, and this fit the bill with just enough food for thought.

In a brief note at the end of the book, Mullen states, "There were six hundred working dairy farms in our...county when we started coming to the Catskills in 1987. There are fewer than two hundred today (2001)." After reading the book, you know that he thinks this is a shame. As do I.

"I Bind Unto Myself Today"

The words to this hymn come from St. Patrick's (c. 372- c. 466) Breastplate. Several different translations from the original Gaelic were used to put the words into stanzas by an Irish woman, Cecil Frances Alexander (1818-1895) in 1888. They were set to a traditional Irish melody adapted by Charles Stanford (1852-1924). Go here to hear the melody and read the full text. (Note: This website doesn't have the correct change in melody for the sixth stanza. In addition, the hymn is difficult to follow if you don't have the words and printed music together.)

"I Bind Unto Myself Today"

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, His shield to ward;
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.
(verse 5)

St. Patrick's Breastplate

Breastplate of St. Patrick

I arise today through a mighty strength,
the invocation of the Trinity, through belief in the Threeness,
through confession of the Oneness of the Creator of creation.
I arise today through the strength of Christ with His Baptism,
through the strength of His CruciÞxion with His Burial,
through the strength of His Resurrection with His Ascension,
through the strength of His descent for the Judgment of Doom.

I arise today through the strength of the love of Cherubim
in obedience of Angels, in the service of the Archangels,
in hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
in prayers of Patriarchs, in predictions of Prophets,
in preachings of Apostles, in faiths of Confessors,
in innocence of Holy Virgins, in deeds of righteous men.

I arise today, through the strength of Heaven:
light of Sun, brilliance of Moon, splendor of Fire,
speed of Lightning, swiftness of Wind, depth of Sea,
stability of Earth, Þrmness of Rock.

I arise today, through God's strength to pilot me:
God's might to uphold me, God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me, God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me, God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me, God's shield to protect me,
God's host to secure me
against snares of devils, against temptations of vices,
against inclinations of nature, against everyone
who shall wish me ill, afar and anear, alone and in a crowd.

I summon today all these powers between me and these evils:
against every cruel and merciless power that may oppose
my body and my soul,
against incantations of false prophets,
against black laws of heathenry,
against false laws of heretics, against craft of idolatry,
against spells and smiths and wizards,
against every knowledge that endangers man's body and soul.
Christ to protect me today
against poison, against burning, against drowning,
against wounding, so that there may come abundance of reward.
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right,
Christ on my left, Christ in breadth, Christ in length,
Christ in height, Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today through a mighty strength,
the invocation of the Trinity, through belief in the Threeness,
through confession of the Oneness of the Creator of creation.
Salvation is of the Lord. Salvation is of the Lord.
Salvation is of Christ. May Thy Salvation, O Lord, be ever with us.

(The statue of St. Patrick pictured above is located in western Ireland.)

A Lightbulb Moment

We've read this story before. The one about Naomi and Ruth. I've told the kids before about the Rahab/Boaz/Ruth/King David/Jesus connection.

But, today, our daughter really got it! She saw the amazing interconnectedness of the Bible. She saw these "characters" as real people. She saw how people way back in the Old Testament have a bearing upon the New. She saw that a widow gleaning in a barley field becomes an unlikely ancestor of Jesus.

Thank you, Lord, that I have the awesome privilege to be with my children during the day instead of having to send them to the government factory/church/school.

"From Deepest Woe I Cry to Thee"

We are reading about Martin Luther (1483-1546) in school these days, and I found a Lenten hymn he penned in 1524. The version I have in a hymnal also credits him with the melody. It is with awe that I meditate upon Luther's steadfastness to the true and pure faith while he endured the adversity from Rome.


"From Deepest Woe I Cry to Thee"
From deepest woe I cry to thee;
Lord, hear me, I implore thee!
Bend down thy gracious ear to me;
I lay my sins before thee.
If thou rememberest every sin,
if nought but just reward we win,
could we abide thy presence?

Thou grantest pardon through thy love;
thy grace alone availeth.
Our works could ne'er guild remove;
yea, e'en the best life faileth.
For none may boast themselves of aught,
but must confess thy grace that wrought
whate'er in them is worthy.

And thus my hope is in the Lord,
and not in my own merit;
I rest upon his faithful word
to them of contrite spirit.
That he is merciful and just,
here is my comfort and my trust;
his help I wait with patience.

Of Wasps and Wimps

This afternoon, while cleaning some things from outside, I inadvertently awakened a hibernating wasp from his slumber. So upset and startled was he, that he promptly stung me on the middle finger of my right hand. I immediately put my finger on an ice regime, and read our First Aid book, which said to do the same thing. It didn't help one bit. Then I tried soaking my hand in warm water. Perhaps that would help. Nope.

After (not too graciously) enduring pain for several hours, I felt no better, and considered my self quite the wimp. After taking Tylenol, to no avail, I did a computer search for some alternative pain relievers. I tried an antihistamine. No good. I tried white vinegar. Didn't work. Several websites suggested chewing up some Plantain (a common weed) and applying the substance to the site. Not sure we have any Plantain growing yet.

Then, FINALLY, I found something that worked.

Mix together:

1 tsp chopped onion
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp apple cider vinegar

Apply the paste to the sting site with a clean cotton cloth. Hold the cloth tightly for 15 minutes.

The recipe did the trick, and I can finally type with relative ease. This whole episode got me to thinking...

How many times do we apply the world's remedies to a situation in our lives? Aren't the results usually ineffective? But then, what happens when we try a simple and more natural remedy, that was given to us by God? Works every time, doesn't it?

Theses on Worship--Part 8

Continuing my series on Jim Jordan's book on worship, go here for the first post, and go here for the most recent.

Thesis #11
Worship Should Be Dramatic

Jordan is not advocating a skit during the sermon performed by the Drama Team. Instead, Jordan says we should see the "entire liturgy as a dramatic progression from call to absolution to consecration to communion to mission." In addition to this, there are other dramatic aspects of the service: procession of robed clergy and choir, procession of deacons carrying the Scriptures to and from the pulpit, the procession of deacons with the offering and communion, the lifting up of the offering and the communion elements to Him, the procession of people to receive communion, and the recession of clergy and choir.

I am in total agreement with Jordan on this one. We have visited some churches that had a drama team and we've also seen video clips used during a sermon. I don't care for either one in a worship service. I really like Jordan's description of the entire liturgy serving as the dramatic aspect of worship.

Thesis #12
Worship Should Have an Element of Play

Jordan says, "To be sure, God's laughter and ours come in a context of pain and conflict, but laughter is a good medicine. I don't think that the 'Puritan sobriety' that is often found in Reformed worship is entirely wrong, but it becomes a problem when we never get past it...By humor I don't mean jokes or funny stories told at the beginning of the sermon as if the sermon were an after-dinner address..."

Jordan admits, "I'm not sure where the balance lies in this area. I know that some traditions are much too morbid in worship, and I am also convinced that much of modern worship is too light. I believe that the corrective comes (again!) from the psalms. If we make the psalms central to our praise, we shall be steered gradually into a proper balance between mourning and playfulness."

No Wasted Words

I'm a little numb. This school year has been the "Year of Hospitals" for our family. Our son was in the hospital for three and a half weeks in the fall. My mother was in the hospital for three weeks in December. Then, she was very recently hospitalized again for a week and a half. A brief spell in the ER where she stopped breathing was quite sobering. She is now being treated for pneumonia and an as yet undetermined lung ailment.

My mother is not a Christian and I pray continually for her salvation. Every day that I have her in this world is a gift. She let me pray for her every night as I "tucked her in" before I left the hospital. I always reflected how inadequate were my prayers.

I recently read in Numbers about God giving Moses and Aaron the exact specifications regarding the arrangement of the tribal camps.

On the east, toward the sunrise, the divisions of the camp of Judah are to encamp under their standard.
Numbers 2:3a

I believe there are no wasted words in the Bible and that the Old Testament points toward our Savior far more often than we observe. Could God have been preparing the Israelites for the sunrise that would illuminate the empty tomb? May my own speech have no wasted words, and point towards my Savior.