I haven’t written a blog post in a while as I have been busy in other areas my life filling another website of mine with a brain dump of many years working as a graphic designer. I am embarking on my eleventh year of teaching at the college level as the Lord transferred me to the midwest four years ago during the “period that shall remain nameless.” God forbid that evil doesn’t try to pull that fast one on us again! But, that is another rabbit hole that I will refrain from stepping into for this post.
In one of my classes this past week, I assigned a creative thinking exercise that I had done in college that guides students into developing a well-thought out project. I used my example to my students and it was a bit of a trip down “memory lane.” The first task is to write as many interests down you can think of and fill up the supplied grid, then go back and pick the one that you have the most passion for. At this point in the process, “you are just throwing “spaghetti” on the wall,” as a friend of mine says. My students were astonished how many diverse interests I have. I was a bit surprised by that!
At one time in my life, someone called me a “polymath.” I had to look that one up! I was amused that there were no women on the Wikipedia list. Years ago, the husband of a friend of mine told me that I “tell stories like a man.” However, I am me, and am definitely NOT a man.
All of these observations that from people seem to be confirmations that I am on a road less traveled. A tesseract shape if you will, trying to fit in a one-dimensional hole–if that in fact exists?
I have always known in my soul that everyone is born with creativity. Why … we are created in God’s image!
And He is The Creator!!!
We have been BLESSED in this life, to be born to CREATE!
Most have had creativity drummed out of them early in life by the educational system and by the milieu of society. The “programming” messages (a.k.a. 24/7 cable t.v.) by the formerly trusted media, entertainment and corporations has dominated our head space, and the visual landscape for most of our lives–if not all of it.
Sadly, or one can exclaim joyfully, God has been exposing the psychopathic megalomaniacs who have stealthy infiltrated the so-called “narrative” to control everything facet of our lives.
Our innocence has been lost.
Our heroes and heroines are not as we were told to believe.
[That’s MARKETING folks!]
We have been nursed on “bread and circuses” unawares.
They say that ‘the rulers of this world’ (led by you know who) has to tell you what they are going to do to you, and if you don’t know their “comms” or symbols, that is your fault.
We all have been at fault.
Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea Maxium Culpa!
Now is the time for a wake up call and to keep our eyes focused on the Lord now more than ever. So get off your smart phone, divert your eyes away from your computer screen and join humanity. It is at stake.
We all have been born to be in community.
Meaning = “a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.”
— according to the 1st definition in Dictionary.com.
So until the WEF (World Economic Forum) re-writes everything (including the Holy Bible–NOT!) and Mr. Harari from the WEF gets his worshipful master the “great and powerful wizard of A.I.” to re-write all things to fit their twisted godless ideas about life, we must THANK GOD for opening our EYES. And remain vigilant, as Jesus told us in Luke 12:35-36 “Let your waist be girded and your lamps burning; and you yourselves be like men who wait for their master, when he will return from the wedding, that when he comes and knocks, they may open to him immediately.” Let us listen to Jesus and keep our lanterns at the ready.
And may we pause and pray for the souls of those who wish to destroy humanity, who do not respect all life, who do not believe in Jesus Christ, and think we are “useless eaters.” May the Holy Spirit touch their hearts of stone, and convert them with the love of Jesus Christ and melt their hearts, renew their minds and beckon them to change their ways through a powerful conversion. As we are not the judge of their souls — that is for our Lord and Savior, but we can judge their words and actions and pray for their conversion. We pray this in the name above all names, in Jesus Christ, our Lord, Amen.
It breaks my heart when I hear someone regurgitate a mantra that they have “not a creative bone in their body.” That my friends is a lie from the devil. He wants to prevent us from the Creator’s gifts to us.
I say this in all earnest for as we know in “those days” written in scripture–that eerily seems to be in OUR day, “people will love only themselves and their money. They will be boastful and proud, scoffing at God, disobedient to their parents, and ungrateful. They will consider nothing sacred.“
Well now, let me reel this in from my divergent diatribe.
I wanted to set up the point of my article here with that story about the creative exercise that happened this week. So, back to the crux of my article …
But wait! One more thing. It is said that, “Your testimony can be the key to unlock someone else’s prison. So, I must speak.”
I have found that God works in my life over a period of time. He leaves “breadcrumbs” here and there for me. And if I am listening and keeping a watchful eye, these moments, thoughts and incidences– that in reality are actually god-incidences! Such as a word from a friend, a phrase in a book, a thought after prayer, a thing you notice, a trial in your day, or sometimes I hear a physical WORD in my head loudly–somehow these happenings weave into a tapestry and forms a thread of grace that awakens my mind to His voice. Sometimes He says, “I love you,” or “Watch out for that again,” other times my soul gets a confirmation about my questions I ask, mostly “Am I doing your will?” and sometimes I hear “Keep on doing what your are doing” or “Don’t overthink everything! Just TRUST in God.” Sometimes, I hear a message through others, such as one that resonates in my head often that a beautiful holy Filipino friend of mine in her early nineties, always says in a matter-of-fact stern voice, “It’s a trial.” And those are the times I am reminded that this life does have trials. So, we accept them. But give thanks for those trials. They help polish the rough edges of our lives from the “programing” devised to distract us from being who God intended us to be.
AND … NOW WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR.
If in fact you have read this far.
When I landed in this mid-west town four years ago, it was during “the period that shall not be named.” I would attend the Latin Mass thirty minutes away from town, rather than being “forced” to make an appointment at the local parish to wear a face diaper and sit ritualistically six feet apart and receive communion in the hand with the scent of toxic hand sanitizer all over Jesus.
When the world regained sanity, I started attending the local parish church as my new teaching job helping to build a newly formed major was consuming my every waking hours, so a five minute drive down the street was so much more efficacious than a thirty-minute ride through the countryside to the neighboring state.
In the diocese from whence I came –thanks to Mother Mary’s intervention on the day of her assumption, I had been blessed to sing in the schola for the Latin mass and the diocesan choir. I really missed singing. The Lord had given me a mission to use my musical gifts playing keyboard and singing at healing masses with a Filipino Charismatic Praise & Worship team. That gift opened up other doors for me and led me to another Holy Spirit led group of Catholics in the Mid-Atlantic states to also participate with my musical gifts. This connection eventually led me to “step out in faith” and sell all my worldly things and move south. It was in God’s plan that move to be only for a season— a season in purgatory to be honest with abundant trials–but that is another chapter!
He called me to the Midwest to teach.
But I did miss participating in a choir.
When you sing you pray twice!
The Latin cited for this is “Qui bene cantat bis orat”
or “He who sings well prays twice”.
A quote often attributed to St. Augustine, although the Catholic Catechism of the Church acknowledges it to be so (unless the truth has been wiped already by the dreaded A.I. borg)
And now another dreaded rabbit hole about this particular quote–or perhaps it is now considered a maxim, since it can’t
be found in St. Augustine’s writings. Maybe it’s those darn translators of old eh? Below is a link where you can read about this phenomena for yourself!
Here:
https://fauxtations.wordpress.com/2015/02/24/augustine-he-who-sings-prays-twice/
and here:
https://wdtprs.com/2006/02/st-augustine-he-who-sings-prays-twice/
But first please stay for the end of my story!
Here is the spoiler: St. Augustine did write, “cantare amantis est … Singing belongs to one who loves” (s. 336, 1 – PL 38, 1472). That is often invoked as the source of “qui bene cantat bis orat.”
Moving right along … one Sunday, at the nine o’clock mass there was an “altar call” looking for more choir members. I love to attend this particular mass because of the music, and the choir. They sometimes sang chant and in Latin–which I missed.
When I sang in the schola before my journey far from where home had been for many years, the thursday night practice was a visit to heaven every week! The Latin Mass church was a cavernous place and often the women practiced in the baptismal font which was a little silo in a secluded part of the church. There the angels sang with us as our voices swelled and harmonized rising up to heaven each week.Thursday night was the highlight of my week.
Our first sopranos had angelic voices, had perfect pitch and sang in perfect key–amazing grace on those high notes. I was a 2nd soprano, and being a techno-geek and eager to learn the music and Latin, would record our practices, then post them for us others mere mortals to practice with. Most of the choir were volunteers, but we were graced with a few paid Catholic professionals, and our amazingly talented director and organist also directed the diocesan choir.
I was blessed to be able to sing at a sesquicentennial mass, a church dedication after it had burned to the ground and rebuilt, many Latin masses, a requiem mass in the coolest little chapel in a Catholic cemetery on the night of all souls day. And that was what I missed most about moving away. Singing in the choir.
In my new town, the early seven a.m. mass was always a joy, as it was less noisy, less attended, more contemplative and the music was sung a cappella as there was no choir at that mass. The priest would lead the music — and most have amazing voices here.
Where I lived prior, I also loved attending an Abbey nearby where the pace of the brothers singing at the mass, and their chants along with the quiet contemplative atmosphere touched my soul dearly.
So many things I missed. However all these things were waiting in the wings to return to me.
One Sunday, I went to the next mass at nine o’clock in the morning. During the announcements, there was an “altar call” for anyone interested in joining the choir. So, my heart felt a tug, and I signed up and have been singing for the last two years in this choir.
Where I teach, we are graced with a liturgical music program where the church benefits from talented students who conduct the choir. We have a professor who has been the mainstay keeping the choir together on breaks where students are away and during Holy Weeks at Christmas and Easter.
I have kept a low profile in the choir. I am one of the oldest members in age and I have been like a fly on the wall in relation to the the energy and enthusiasm of the young men and women in the choir. We have many strong voices and over the last two years have attracted a few more professors into the ranks. We have some amazing sopranos and this year have attracted a nice group of altos and more tenors.
Our director graduated last spring and so we have a new director. He directed our first choir for this year last Sunday. His directing is wonderful and watching him direct is a sight to behold, as he literally gives it his every being. Last Sunday I sat in awe, as he closed his eyes at times. and his direction was ever so emotive, that I could just see the angels rejoicing along with him. His passion for directing truly shines, and that energy is contagious to the choir.
Well … today is SUNDAY. It is September 3rd, 2023.
The new director had a prior engagement and let us know at practice this past week that there would be a substitute. The substitute for today had conducted our very first rehearsal for the year for the regular conductor, so we were expecting her to show up for the eight o’clock a.m. warm-up and rehearsal before mass.
I woke up around five o’clock a.m. and got distracted with writing, and ended up jumping into the shower a bit late, threw on a floral skirt and my sandals and headed to practice. I was about two minutes late.
Nearly the entire choir was there, all sitting waiting for the substitute director to show up. We waited. And we waited.
I usually have a battle every morning with a rough throat, and this morning was no exception. I was hoping we could clear our pipes and tune up before mass, as sometime that plugs up my vocal chords.
So … we waited. And we waited.
Somebody said, “Has someone texted the substitute?”
Yes. Someone had. So we waited.
The professor who is the glue to the choir rallied and decided to at least get our voices warmed up this morning.
OH, by the way … no organist today. So we were all to sing a cappella — EVERYTHING.
Tick, Tok. Tick, Tok.
So, another choir member who can pluck on the piano played some notes and we all tried to remember our warm ups.
Still no conductor.
Our Communion anthem was a bit complex for today in the way that it had a lot of interesting dynamics and moving parts from each section. The professor did not want to even venture to try to lead it.
IT WAS THEN … THE HOLY SPIRIT NUDGED ME.
Sometimes when this happens, I get this wiggly pit in my stomach. Because nine times out of ten, I am STEPPING OUT IN FAITH. So that wiggly pit started. Why … I have been rather stealth in this choir for a few years. YIKES! But I knew that was the Holy Spirit telling me to help out. It seems everyone was a bit lost this morning and we really needed a conductor. So, not wanting to disobey the call, I spoke up and volunteered to direct.
I think the professor thought I was joking at first. And surely there might have been some liturgical choir majors sitting in the room that were afraid to speak up. But I confessed that I had been a choir director decades ago–BUSTED!!!
I know hard to believe right? For those who know me, I am usually not at a loss for words. But in certain situations, I surely am. I hadn’t directed a choir by my calculations in years! Time flies. I hate to admit.
When I was a Junior in college, I got a job as a choir director in a protestant church. I was a protestant at the time. I was a mere 18-year-old, not a music major, but a design major. I had studied piano for thirteen years and had sung in the choir my entire life at church. In high school I had been part of a choir in Campus Crusade for Christ (now CRU), and in my first two years in college was an accompanist for the Wesley Foundation choir. In those two choirs we would perform concerts in various churches around the area.
It wasn’t until I was in my late twenties that my mother confessed to me that I was my piano teachers best student. She had wanted me to compete in the Eastern Seaboard Competition, and that was the year the Jesus tugged on my heart strings and I chose to compete in Ocean City New Jersey with Campus Crusade for Christ.
When I transferred colleges, there was an add in the paper for a choir director. So, I stepped out with boldness and applied for the job. I got it. I probably was the most affordable applicant thinking back on it. But it was a fantastic experience for me. I remember the shock when my choir members figured out my age and realized that I hadn’t been born when they were in college. Oh well. As I said, my life seems to be a road less traveled. I am often on the “bleeding” edge of things. Perhaps a gift of courage,along with a gift of joy and a dose of being WAY TOO serious about life?
Well, what would you have supposed that today was the day the Gospel spoke about: TAKING UP YOUR CROSS!
I had once listened to a teaching by Matthew Kelly who challenged people to take a notebook to mass and jot down whatever resonates with you from the homily. I took up that challenge years ago and have filled several small notebooks. You can read some of my notes on homilies on this website. I am far behind transcribing them here. But in the past three years, I have had to give this habit up as singing in the choir, up in a tiny choir loft with horrible acoustics muffling the homilist so you can’t hear a single word. However it amazes me how the screams of small children and babies are magnified during mass! Perhaps that is their small way to communicate with the angelic realm and the trinity. At least that is how I console my inability to hear. This weekly trial challenges me to hold on to that small grace about singing twice! For that has been about the only thing I have gotten out of mass for the past two years. Not the amazing homilies. I realized this summer on my travels how much I missed writing in that journal as I was able to attend some quaint churches and some seriously devout masses where young parents have been taught to take their crying children out of mass out of respect for the others in attendance. It seems to be a reflection of the “me” generation. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for teaching children how to be reverent in mass. I just find it amusing that the disruptions seem to happen at more conservative or trad masses. Funny thing.
Well I answered the call to direct the choir this morning. And it was kind of like riding a bike. You don’t lose your sense of rhythm and tempo. I may not know all the technical liturgical jargon, but I have sung square notes for about ten years and Latin.
In some conservative circles, we are blessed with academics who share their wisdom. I always love to learn from learned people. Sometimes, people are trying to be a “know-it-all” and that comes from a lack of self-esteem. There were a few remarks this morning that were over my head– and I am sure over the head of others in the room. But, I generally pay no mind. I did elicit a sour-puss glance from one student when I said that the term went over my head. LOL. Oh, what sacrilege! Mea Culpa. If you can’t laugh at yourself, you’re in for a bumpy ride in this world.
I have to confess, sometimes trads and conservatives are more judgemental than charismatics. For me, I love all forms of the mass and respect where people are in their journey.
And this is true of highly trained musicians. I come from a matriarchal line of musicians. My great-grandmother was a musician and worked in a music store in the early 1900s. Her daughter, my maternal grandmother-may she rest in peace–became an organist, received a doctorate and spent her entire life as an organist and music teacher. God rest her soul. She was a total snob about music, which kind of went along with her stoic Scotch-Irish Protestant personality. Her daughter, my mother–may she also rest in God’s peace–was an amazing pianist, but that never went past a personal indulgence. She actually was a better performance musician than my grand-mother in my opinion.
Each of my three siblings at the ripe old age of six, all were required to take piano lessons. It did not end well for all of us. Oh, the pain, the pain. It wasn’t until my parent’s divorce in seventh grade that I threw myself into my piano playing. I would practice for hours on end. It was my refuge. And looking back my therapy. As my parents divorced in a time when that was a taboo subject. Being raised Protestant, you aren’t exactly told that marriage is forever, and when your primary role models split up–well there you have it. The cycle continues. But, we cannot cry for our past mistakes, and need to summon up the courage to forgive our parents–and “forgiveness” especially comes to light when you become a parent yourself.
WELL TODAY … We got through rehearsal. There were a few areas in the anthem that needed some work. And I probably changed the directions from practice earlier in the week. We didn’t have time to rehearse some of the chants so we did the best we could with figuring out who was going to sing what.
AND … IT’S TIME FOR MASS.
Mind you, I have played in Catholic masses with the Filipinos before. And I have had to solo, in another group for certain retreats. There have been times when I totally blank out when to play certain parts during the liturgy, and God bless the soul of the priest who passed away a year or so ago, whom I messed up during the mass a few times. He was the most loving, kind priest ever. And I actually thought about him today. And hoped that I didn’t screw up during the mass today.
Well so here it is … my mass notes from today!
I actually had time to sit down during the homily and today I could hear the priest’s voice clear as a bell! Hallelujah!
There are no co-incidences … I was supposed to write this blog entry. Ha!
Here goes ..
I had to direct the choir today.
The substitute didn’t show up.
I haven’t done this for decades.
YIKES!
And it was at a Protestant church
Note: I calculated the number of years since I was a choir director and while writing and editing this blog post I discovered that I miss calculated the math–because I am an artist, not a mathematician.
So I decided not to post the figure here to protect the innocent (me) for the number of years seem to be too great to ponder this day.
My consolation is that Moses started his mission when he was eighty.
And Grandma Moses started to paint at the age of seventy-seven.
So they both clocked more time in before me at this point!
Thanks be to God that I have played keyboard in the mass for the charismatic renewal — phew!
Thanks to our (fearless leader ) name redacted for giving me prompts and giving us the notes from the app on his phone.
No organist today either.
Words from the Homily …
TAKE UP YOUR CROSS AND FOLLOW ME (JESUS).
IT’S NOT ALWAYS EASY
My reflections on today.
As I directed the choir today, the beauty of God was directly in front of me. The choir loft was full. It is tiny. The altos and sopranos are nearly touching the music stand. There is a fan running to keep the loft cool.
It is a very hot day today.
As the choir stands to begin to chant the entrance, I realize that the tenors and basses in the back can’t see my directing. So, I raised my arms up so that everyone could see.
As I raised my hands, I looked up. Not even ten feet from me is the organ. The pipes are adorned with beautiful paintings from an era of long ago and at the very apex of the pipes stands a huge golden cross.
I admit, when I direct, I get into it. And I found myself nearly dancing in a way, but the amazing thing was lifting my arms while the choir sang in harmony and I had the most amazing gaze to look at above their heads, the Cross.
That is when I sensed that not only do you pray twice when you sing,
but you MAGNIFY the Lord when you direct music.
HOW COOL IS THAT?
My motions in directing the choir were exaggerated and lifted high so that everyone could see, especially during the anthem for the dynamics in the music.
Truth to be told, you can see how many choir members don’t even look up at the conductor. I am so guilty of that.
But, mine eyes were fixed on Jesus today. Fixed on that beautiful cross in the midst of an amazing choir — where you really can’t go wrong.
After communion, as I was coming back up to the choir loft, someone whispered to me how beautiful the singing was today. I thought about keeping that remark to myself and not posting it here. And I won’t let that comment go to my head, because we really have a great group of singers in this choir and the glory all goes to God, for He called me to serve today.
And I am so glad that we all sang beautifully.
Today, I thank God for calling me today to serve.
When there is a need, He fulfills it.
ALWAYS.
If not me, then who?
If not you, then who?
And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Then I said, “Here I am! Send me.” Isaiah 6:8
KEEP YOUR EYES ON JESUS.
Today we certainly magnified the Lord!
P.S. I do think I burned some calories this morning doing the director thing! Praise God for bringing the joy of directing an amazingly talented choir back to me today. I am thankful.