Music: Sun Jan 12

Classical musicians: musty, bespectacled; more curators than artists; priests, but not visionaries. The popular stereotypes suggest that the interpreter of classical music follows a sacrosanct score, faithfully conserving the musical past.

But how do performers know what music sounded like in remote times? How can they be certain that the texts they revere have been transmitted reliably over the centuries? How can they be confident that the dots, slashes and other symbols they must decipher meant the same thing at the time of creation as they do now?

 

In reality, the classical musician is like an actor who creates flesh and blood out of a script. Different actors revivify characters is different ways; the musical composition does not have a single, fixed identity.

 

Mozart's Fantasy in C Minor, K. 475, performed as this morning's Centering Music, has come down to modern-day performers through a fitful history. The work was composed in May 1785 and was published later that year by a Viennese firm. Apparently, there were numerous discrepancies between the manuscript and the printed edition, and it remained unclear to publishers of subsequent editions how many of the changes were authorized by the composer, and how many might have been the initial publisher's amendments. Some 19^th-century editions were based on the autograph, others on the first printed edition. Then, in the 20^th century, the manuscript disappeared, and pianists could rely solely on published versions. Through a strange error in filing, the long-missing manuscript resurfaced in 1990, at the Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary in Philadelphia! It provided numerous insights into Mozart's compositional process, the evolution of the work, and the fine line between writing and improvisation that existed in 18^th-century music.

 

The works of Frederic Chopin have also posed serious questions for interpreters interested in discerning the composer's intentions. In the days before international copyright, Chopin had publishers in several European countries. He had to copy out his works by hand to send to each publisher, and these copies—often made on the same day!---frequently diverge from one another. Chopin, it would seem, had a hard time settling on a final version of his compositions. The situation becomes only more complicated when one studies proof sheets corrected by the composer, dedication copies he wrote out after publication, and other changes he introduced in the printed scores his own students used. In many cases, the pianist must join in the process of artistic choice to bring Chopin's music to life; he proves to be an unauthoritarian authority. This morning, one of his Mazurkas, an amalgamation of folkloric forms from his native Poland, is played at the Offertory.

In addition, the CUUC Choir is on hand with a traditional Navajo chant as well as a tender evocation of childhood.  Read on for programming details.

 

Centering Music: Adam Kent, piano

Fantasy in C Minor, K. 475

                                                Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

 

Anthem: CUUC Choir directed by Lisa N. Meyer and accompanied by Georgianna Pappas

Now l Walk in Beauty 

 Gregg Smith   

 

Offertory:
Mazurka in F Minor, Op. 7, No. 3

                                                Frederic Chopin

 

Anthem:
Dreams that Children Dream  

 Ruth Elaine Schram

From the Sabbatical Minister - January 9, 2020

Among our explorations of the topic of authority in our Journey groups and our worship services, we are considering questions of how we raise our children to claim their own agency while understanding both the role of authority in families and how authority works well - or is abused - in the larger world.

Sometimes the examples we can explain to our children and youth are hard to find, and sometimes the examples are in the news as we open our On the Journey packets. Yet as we wrestle with how to understand the use and abuse of authority on the international stage, we also wrestle with how to talk to our children and youth.

I offer you this poem, written in the last days of 2016, which feel prescient and helpful today - not only for our children, but for us too. May you find a blessing in it.

“What to Tell the Children” by Rachel Kann



Tell them that this is the great awakening.

Tell them that we humans have made some huge mistakes
And that’s how we now find ourselves in this tenuous place.

Teach them that hate is the poison.
Teach them that love is the remedy,
That it is better to be readied for what comes next,
Even if the revelation is painful.

Tell them that this is the paradigm shift,
That the old is collapsing in on itself,
That this death rattle is simply a temper tantrum;
The last gasp of a dying Goliath.

Remind them of how they get wild
When they are most tired,
And then pass out,
That this is what it’s about,
That this is what is happening to a decrepit and ineffective empire.

Tell them that everything is not ok,
And knowing that is ok.

Tell them that pretending
That what is unacceptable is fine
Is what got us to this sick and dysfunctional spot on the timeline.

Apologize for any prior attempts to teach them denial.
Tell them you were blinded by desire for comfortable numbness.

Express that you had the best of intentions,
That you were working within a broken system,
Where few benefited at the expense of many,
That you laid low,
Kept to the status quo,
Obediently played your role,
But those days are over, because
Now you know better.

Tell them that they have no responsibility
To follow someone blindly based solely on a title.

Teach them to practice discernment.

Tell them authority and respect
Must be earned and are not inherently deserved.

Teach them that there are good people and bad people
From every background, ethnicity and belief system,
That they must align themselves with kindness,
That there is no more time for divisiveness.

You tell
Them that just because something is legal,
That doesn’t mean it’s right.

You tell them
To stand up and fight.

Remind them of all the lawful atrocities
Committed in the sick and twisted history
Of this violent country,
That Rosa Parks righteously broke a law and the world took notice,
That Harriet Tubman is our modern-day Moses,
That women would not be allowed to vote,
And no one would have proposed another notion
If the blessed rebels hadn’t taken a stand.

Tell them love will win this war,
But only if we remember
That love is not just one unending cuddle puddle,
But fierce as a mother bear protecting her cubs.

Tell them that although this existence is damaged beyond repair,
They must not despair,
There is possibility,
And we will willingly and willfully open ourselves
To new ways of being because
The old way is not working,
Has never worked,
And the world deserves better,
And we’re worth it.

Tell them they are not free
While another suffers under enslavement.
Teach them that we are all limbs on one body
And we cannot chop off our own arm without deep suffering.

Teach them humility,
But also to re-learn to trust their intuition and
Beg their forgiveness for unintentionally misleading them previously.

Tell them their gifts are useful.
Tell them they are beautiful.
Tell them they are the truth.

From the Sabbatical Minister - January 1, 2020

A New Year, A New Leaf

As we head into a new year, we often talk about making resolutions and starting new habits. We look at the new calendar as our golden opportunity to make a new start – and if we miss this one, we can take advantage of other chances the calendar provides: the Chinese new year, and the first day of spring, then the first day of school, then the holidays, and suddenly we’re back to the New year and we might not have actually made that new thing a habit.

Maybe the change shouldn’t be about something that will likely be discarded by Valentine’s Day.

What if instead, on New Year’s Day, we just decided to look at things differently?

We often use the phrase ‘turning over a new leaf’ to describe doing something new. When I hear it, I think about flipping the page of a book – turning a new leaf to a blank page where we can write our new story, and we think we can be something or someone new. What we forget is that we’re still writing in the same book; it’s the same story that we’re continuing. Maybe we take it in a new direction, but it’s still the same story.

Turning over a new leaf might actually be about looking at things differently.

I also think about tree leaves – especially in the summer, when the leaves turn to face the storm that’s coming. It’s still a leaf, no matter what direction it’s facing, but now we see it differently, and we learn something from seeing this different perspective – whether it be that rain is coming or something deeper.

Imagine if we did this with other people too – learning from their stories, their experiences, their reactions. What are they teaching us from their perspective? Can we learn something about the world and ourselves when we look at it from the other side? What new story might we write?

In the coming year, I invite you to not make resolutions, or make promises to yourself that you may not be able or inclined to keep. Instead, I invite you to turn over a new leaf, listen to different perspectives, hear the stories of others – and yourself – in different ways. When we do this, we connect with more compassion, grace, and inclusiveness.

Let this be our year to turn over a new leaf.

This Week in Religious Education: January 1-8, 2020

Hello CUUC Families, Community and Visitors,

I send my wishes for a safe and blessed start to the new year.  May 2020 bring you joy, health, opportunities for personal growth and meaningful connection with others.



SUNDAY, JANUARY 5th
Worship begins at 10:00am.  Childcare is available every Sunday with Diane and Hans.

Join us for whole congregation worship this Sunday. Rev. Kimberley's service is about a singing revolution. The tools of resistance are many and varied, but none is so beautiful as many voices raised in song. We will hear stories of musical resistance and learn some new songs to inspire our work to love the hell out of this world.

Orders of service with images and activities will be on hand for anyone of any age.  A quiet activity area and materials are available in the sanctuary for those who appreciate coloring or something to occupy your hands while experiencing the words, music and rituals of our faith.


IN THE COMING WEEKS
This Weekend – RE classes and youth group do not meet.

Sunday, January 12th – The RE Council meets at 8:15am in room 41.  10:00am Classes and Youth Group:

• K-1st Grade Our Whole Lives with David Bowen and Tom Ryan;
• 2nd-5th Grade Children's Worship with Amy Nathan and Tracy Breneman;
• 6th-7th Grade Class with Mohammed Loutfy and Nicole Turygin;
• 8th-9th Grade Class with Christine Haran and Erin Foster;
• 10th-12th Grade Youth Group meets at 10:00am with Cyndi and Daniel Tillman then continues at 11:45am for youth-led worship planning with Tracy & Rev. Kimberley. 

Friday, January 17th – Faith Friday Programming.  Click here for the January 2020 On the Journey packet about Authority.

Sunday, January 19th  – RE Classes; No Youth Group.

Sunday, January 26th  – RE Classes & Youth Group meet, then join us for Chili Community Lunch and an opportunity to share feedback with the RE Council.


RE NEWSLETTERS
Ahead of Sundays when classes and youth group meet, each class and group receives their own individualized weekly newsletter. If you would like to receive one or more RE newsletters in your e-mail, sign up here.


I look forward to seeing you!
in fellowship, Tracy

Music: Sun Jan 5

This morning’s Centering Music includes two early compositions by the Estonian composer Arvo Pärt, as a nod to the nation’s Singing Revolution explored in our worship service. The Offertory is one of Tchaikovsky’s charming seasonal evocations, written on a monthly for the St. Petersburg musical journal Nouveliste. His musical depiction of January is prefaced by these verses by Pushkin:

A little corner of peaceful bliss,

the night dressed in twilight;

the little fire is dying in the fireplace,

and the candle has burned out.

Elsewhere, several of Dmitry Shostakovich’s Twenty-Four Preludes, Op. 34 commemorate the work of a composer working under the constraints of Soviet censorship. Shostakovich’s resistance can be discerned in his unique artistic voice, which he never lost in the face of official reproval. Read on for programming details.

Centering Music:
Zwei Sonatinen, Op. 1

            Sonatina No. 1

I.               Allegro

II.              Larghetto

Sonatina No. 2

I.               Allegro energico

II.              Largo

III.            Allegro

Arvo Pärt

Opening Music:
Prelude in C-sharp Minor, Op. 34, No. 10

                                    Dmitry Shostakovich

Offertory:
By the Fireside, Op. 37, No. 1
                                    Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Interlude:
Prelude in E-flat Major, Op. 34, No. 19

                                    Shostakovich

From the Sabbatical Minister - December 24, 2019

In the Christian tradition, December 1-24 is the season of Advent – understood as a time for considering the coming – and the second coming – of the Christ; it ends on Christmas Day, with the words from the Book of Revelation, “joy to the world, the Lord is come.”

But in the meantime – the month is filled with waiting: waiting for joy, waiting for hope, waiting for peace, waiting for love, waiting for the child, waiting for grace.

It is in this time of Advent that we take time – and fortunately, we have music libraries filled with holiday songs to make the waiting less difficult (sometimes filling us with nostalgia, sometimes bringing us cheer, and sometimes annoying us – I’m looking at you, “Little Drummer Boy”). Over the next four weeks, I’ll be exploring the themes of Advent through the lens of some of my most beloved and cherished holiday songs.

“The Christmas Song”

Tonight, the last night of Advent, is a night of connection, of quiet excitement, of comfort and joy. And while this is often impossible for people to find on this night, there is a song that brings back memories and offers some comfort in these hard times – “The Christmas Song” made famous by the incomparable Nat King Cole:

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire

Jack frost nipping at your nose

Yuletide carols being sung by a choir

And folks dressed up like Eskimos

Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe

Help to make the season bright

Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow

We’ll find it hard to sleep tonight

They know that Santa’s on his way

He’s loaded lots of toy and goodies on his sleigh

And every mother’s child is gonna spy

To see if reindeers really know how to fly

And so I’m offering this simple phrase

To kids from one to ninety two

Although it’s been said

Many times, many ways

Merry Christmas to you

Songwriters Barry Anthony Andrews and Robert James Wills tapped into something that we are only learning about in the United States – the Danish concept of hygge (pronounced (HUG-geh).

Loosely translated, hygge is coziness and togetherness. But it’s more than that. Hygge is more of a mental coziness, an effect of how we are together. Blogger Louise Thomsen Brits describes hygge as

“The art of building sanctuary and community, of inviting closeness and paying attention to what makes us feel open hearted and alive, to create well-being, connection and warmth, a feeling of belonging to the moment and to each other, celebrating the everyday.

“In our overstretched, complex, modern lives, hygge is a resourceful, tangible way to find deeper connection to our families, our communities, and our earth. It’s an uncomplicated, practical method of weaving the stuff of spirit and heart into daily life without sentimentality then taking time to celebrate it on a human scale. 

“Hygge is about appreciation. It’s about how we give and receive. Hygge is about being, not having.”

In our personal lives, we know the power of hygge – gathering around the table for a shared meal, reading in a comfortable chair, wrapping up in blankets on a blustery afternoon, seeking shelter from the rain under a shop awning, baking pie in a warm kitchen, watching a favorite movie with a cat on your lap, watching the sunset with someone you care for. The things that keep us alert and aware and anxious – the phone, the newspaper, Facebook – are distinctly absent in these moments of personal hygge.

But hygge is not just an absence of things that might be overwhelming. It is in fact a very practical way of creating sanctuary in the middle of very real, hard, complicated life. It is “a kind of enchantment – inviting in warmth, simplicity, connection –making space for the heart and the imagination.” Hygge acknowledges the sacred in the secular – that there is something extraordinary in the ordinary.

But hygge is more than stuff; it intangible – it’s not just a comfortable space, it’s a comfortable experience. It’s freshly baked pie and the smells that evoke memories. It’s a warm fire and time to read. It’s a snuggly quilt and someone to cuddle with. In hygge, the stuff and the space create a sanctuary for our bodies and our spirits.

And it is intentional. Hygge doesn’t happen by accident – as Brits says, “it’s an attitude, a considered practice. It takes effort to hygge.” Hygge is, as author and former monk Thomas Moore writes, “a theme that can be lived amid all the other dimensions of an engaged human life.” It doesn’t seek to hide the darkness but rather provide a light that reminds us the darkness of pain, sorrows, and troubles is not all there is.

We need this reminder more than ever. It can be so easy to get caught up in the 24/7 news cycle and remain shocked, hurt, angry, scared, almost to the point of being inured to the horrors so that we lose sight of the acts of resistance we must take up – and lose sight of our souls – and the lessons that Advent teaches us to stop, be still, and give thanks.

This song – this beautiful song, bringing to mind memories of roaring fires and hot cocoa, of snuggling under blankets and singing carols together, comfort and anticipation– wrapped in Nat King Cole’s honeyed baritone, is hygge.

There is little more to say - so, like Cole, I offer this simple phrase: Merry Christmas to you.

From the Sabbatical Minister - December 19, 2019

In the Christian tradition, December 1-24 is the season of Advent – understood as a time for considering the coming – and the second coming – of the Christ; it ends on Christmas Day, with the words from the Book of Revelation, “joy to the world, the Lord is come.”

But in the meantime – the month is filled with waiting: waiting for joy, waiting for hope, waiting for peace, waiting for love, waiting for the child, waiting for grace.

It is in this time of Advent that we take time – and fortunately, we have music libraries filled with holiday songs to make the waiting less difficult (sometimes filling us with nostalgia, sometimes bringing us cheer, and sometimes annoying us – I’m looking at you, “Little Drummer Boy”). Over the next four weeks, I’ll be exploring the themes of Advent through the lens of some of my most beloved and cherished holiday songs.

“Winter Wonderland”

What do Bing Crosby, Doris Day, Kenny Rogers, Radiohead, Air Supply, Merle Haggard, Aimee Mann, Selena Gomez, and the Polyphonic Spree all have in common?

Of course, they’re just a few of the over one thousand performing artists who have covered the 1934 classic “Winter Wonderland” – written by Felix Bernard and Richard Bernhard Smith. It’s a classic, to be sure. And while it’s not specifically a Christmas song, it does get a fair amount of air play this time of year.

The song is about a couple enjoying the sights and sounds of a beautiful winter day, and they let their imaginations run away with them as a snowman turns into a minister and we learn of their love for one another.

It’s really a song about love.

Which, of course, is one of the themes of Advent – love. As we sing in Mark Belletini’s translation of O Come Emmanuel, “Emmanuel shall come within as Love to dwell.” We’ve talked a lot about waiting this month, and I think that when we wait in love, we wait with a hopefulness, a gentleness, a kind of grace. This song clearly highlights young love – two people who found themselves and have their own future together:

Later on we'll conspire
As we dream by the fire
To face unafraid the plans that we’ve made

As we wind down to the end of 2019, I expect many of us have ideas and plans for 2020; do they bring you anxiety or curiosity? Are you waiting in frustration, in fear, in anger? Or in love? When we wait in love, we can see the ‘beautiful sight’ of the snow glistening as we pause. And we see not loss but newness:

Gone away is the bluebird
Here to stay is a new bird
He sings a love song as we go along

Advent invites us to hopefulness, to a loving perspective. May your waiting be blessed with love.

(And while you wait, listen to one of my favorite versions of this song by the incomparable Ella Fitzgerald.)