Greetings to OLA Parish Community

I just recorded and posted a greeting to the OLA Parish Community on YouTube.  I used my laptop camera and microphone, and am not very familiar with the software yet, so it's not very high quality -- but it is heartfelt. . .

YouTube Symphony Orchestra, etc.

So, first it's Pope Benedict (see previous post), now Michael Tilson Thomas!  Although promotion has been going since December, today is the first I've seen it.  Interesting idea, and certainly one of the wonderfully creative things the internet is capable of.  It'll be great to see where this goes, and perhaps whether we might be seeing a rebirth of interest in classical music.  Click here for the YouTube Symphony Orchestra Channel, and from there you can listen play Tan Dun's 5-minute "A Symphony for YouTube."   It's a serious but fun piece, with what looks like hubcaps added to the percussion section.

Recall the old joke: A musician walking down the street in New York is asked by a tourist, "How do you get to Carnegie Hall?"  He replies, of course, "Practice, my boy, practice!"  Now it's "Practice and upload."

By the way, in case you are as yet unaware, I have some stuff on YouTube too:

Kapadokya Balloon Ride

Mehter Military Band

A Polish Village in Turkey!

Will there be more?  Stay tuned.

Pope Benedict on YouTube

You may have seen the news reports that the Vatican has just entered an agreement with Google to set up a channel on YouTube.  Here it is: http://www.youtube.com/user/vatican.

Before you visit, you may want to listen to the Holy Father himself speaking about the importance of internet technology in communicating the Gospel today.

Also her is the press conference announcing the new YouTube channel.

Interesting item also in the LA Times that research is finding the greatest threat to teens on the internet is other teens, not criminal predators, etc.  Here:

http://www.latimes.com/features/health/la-he-kidsonline26-2009jan26,0,1604080.story

Inauguration, Drama, and Liturgy: Simple Gifts

"Theater, as any stage veteran will tell you, is a two-way street between performers and audiences, with emotion traveling back and forth in waves of accelerating force."  L.A. Times Theater Critic Charles McNulty began his analysis of last Tuesday's Inauguration event with those words.  Actually, they also describe the meaning of Vatican II's mandate to restore "full, conscious and active participation" of the faithful in the celebration of the liturgy.

Read the full article here.  It's worth considering.

McNulty does a very good job of analyzing the Inauguration from the perspective of how words and symbols relate to one another, and most importantly relate to meaning.  The essence of word is that it conveys meaning; the essence of symbol is that it embody meaning.  The Inauguration wasn't just a show put on to enhance the taking of the oath of office.  In fact, the words of the oath, as was charmingly obvious in the botched job of it, aren't of the essence; nor is the oath itself.  The essential meaning of the event is the transfer of the office of President from one person to another, according to the Constitution of the United States.  It is actually a moment which embodies a new mutual relationship between the President and the People of the United States.

That's why, as I pointed out in my previous post, it was so significant that, by an accident of timing, the actual moment of transition (yes, liturgically this is analogous to the Consecration of the Mass--it is a real transformation!) occurred almost exactly at the moment that the "Simple Gifts" melody was intoned by the clarinet in John Williams' wonderful little four-minute piece of music.  The layer-upon-layer of symbolism encapsulated in that moment, as I reflected at some length previously, served well to embody and unfold layer upon layer of the meaning of the event itself.  Call it serendipitous, if you will.  I say providential.

The key (and sublime) significance of that music being played by those musicians at that moment of high noon was unfortunately missed by McNulty in his otherwise fine article.

"Simple Gifts" is an amazing song, and it has only one verse, which also speaks to the meaning of the event;

Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,

'Tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,

To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,

To turn, turn will be our delight,

Till by turning, turning we come round right.

Speaking of words, I aways find it fascinating to probe the origins of words to discover insights into their meaning and usage today.  So does Melissa Martinez, who writes a column in the Claremont Courier called "Lex in the City."  Last week she took us on a guided tour of the ward "inauguration" and revealed some surprising twists and turns.  Read it here.

Added note on Friday, January 23:  Today's LA Times' carried a brief story, expanded online, that, while the quartet actually played the music for "Air and Simple Gifts," it was too cold for the instruments to actually sound good, so it was a prerecorded version that was heard over the loudspeakers.  Fair enough.  (Aretha Franklin, singing live, wasn't so lucky.)  There's no real comparison to the "Milli Vanilli" scandal of some years back.  I would say it's more "technology to the rescue."  (There's also an LA times review of the piece by Mark Swed online.)

Inauguration thoughts; Simple Gifts

One of the advantages of my time of "enforced leisure" is that I was able to watch the entirety of the presidential inauguration from about 7:00 am (PST) until noon or so.

There were many moving moments that have already been commented upon at length in the media.  I think that the choice of Rick Warren and Joseph Lowery to give the invocation and benediction was right on, both of them unashamedly affirming our Christian and cultural heritage and at the same time recognizing that the diversity, even unbelief, that is the essential constituent of our free society.  

However, for me, there was also something that went almost unnoticed by many, yet I think it is one of those symbolic moments that speaks volumes about the kind of change that will deeply affect the spirit of our nation.  President Obama chose to precede his moment of swearing-in with a wonderful little piece of serious classical music, composed for the occasion by John Williams, "Air and Simple Gifts, " played by violinist Itzhak Perlman; cellist, Yo-Yo Ma; clarinetist, Anthony McGill; and pianist, Gabriela Montero.  (Click on the names for more information about the music, the composer, and the artists.) Here it is:

In itself this choice is significant.  However, the delicious symbolic value of this four-minute performance is that it began at 11:59 am, and so approximately one minute into this piece, at just about the time the "Simple Gifts" theme was first played, Barack Obama actually became the President of the United States. 

We have a President who not only knows the value of symbol but also has a real understanding of and appreciation for the importance of the arts, including classical music, for our cultural and social well being as a people. Whether or not that translates into funding is, in my opinion, less important than the renewal of a social and cultural atmosphere that values and promotes our traditions of beauty.  So many things of timeless value have been allowed to simply drop off the "radar screen" of popular awareness, often for crass economic reasons.  I hope we can recover something of what is on the verge of being lost.  

This four-minute piece of music marked not only the most significant moment of the day--indeed the moment that gave meaning and purpose to everything else that day, including the Oath of Office--it also encapsulated a microcosm of America itself.  The four players were an Israeli-American violinist, a Paris-born Chinese-American cellist, a Venezuelan-born pianist, and an African American clarinetist from Chicago.  The piece itself, composed by a New-York-born musician equally at home (and equally respected) in both concert hall and movie theater, is based on a traditional American hymn tune.

You can't get much more quintessentially American than that!

Hear a really neat interview with Yo-Yo Ma from a few days ago (unfortunately you'll have to put up with a 30-second commercial first):

And as I was watching the ceremonies, a memory came back to me of the last (and only) time that I stood on the Capitol Mall for a historic event.  Chance (or Providence) put me in Washington DC on July 4, 1976, for the Bicentennial celebration.  I was on my way back from Rome, having just completed studies in liturgy, and was staying for a few days with Bob Hovda, one of my mentors, who lived just a few block away.  We went there for the evening fireworks and concert, but I remember very few details, except that no tickets were required and there seemed to be a lot of very ordinary folks around enjoying what seemed like a big Independence Day party.

I was also very impressed with the letter that Chicago's  Cardinal Francis George, who is President of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB), sent to President Obama, as well as the message from Pope Benedict XVI.  If you haven't seen them, please click on the links and read them.  They are both wonderful and very significant documents to help chart the role that we as Catholic faithful can and must play in this administration that presents both hope-filled opportunities and signficant challenges to us.

Finally, it was wonderful that I never once, thoughout the whole day, heard the expression, "kick ass."  I hope it, too, gets permanently retired from our national vocabulary.

Celebrating Martin Luther King Day: K of C, and African American Classical Musicians

I received an email today from the San Gabriel Valley Chapter of the Knights of Columbus with this press release about a rather unknown facet of their history.

SquareOne Publishers Re-Issues Knights of Columbus 1924 Black History Classic

Here's the Amazon link to the book, W.E.B. DuBois, The History of Black Folk: The Negroes in the Making of America.  I think it is significant that the Knights of Columbus was at the forefront of promoting equality and racial harmony in the United States long before it was an open topic for discussion.  Perhaps it's because the KofC had its origins in an immigrant population that suffered significant and sometimes violent discrimination at that time: Irish Catholics, factory workers and coal miners.  (Remember he song, "Sixteen Tons," made famous by Tennessee Ernie Ford?)

The Wikipedia article on the Knights of Columbus briefly tells Fr. McGiveney's motivations in founding it, 125 years ago:

The primary motivation for the Order was to be a mutual benefit society. As a parish priest in an immigrant community, McGivney saw what could happen to a family when the breadwinner died and wanted to provide insurance to care for the widows and orphans left behind. He himself had to temporarily leave his seminary studies to care for his family when his father died.  In the late 19th century, Catholics were regularly excluded from labor unions and other organizations that provided social services.  In addition, Catholics were either barred from many of the popular fraternal organizations, or, as in the case of Freemasonry, forbidden from joining by the Catholic Church itself. McGivney wished to provide them an alternative. He also believed that Catholicism and fraternalism were not incompatible and wished to found a society that would encourage men to be proud of their American-Catholic heritage.  It was also founded in order to show that American-Catholics were patriotic and loyal citizens of the United States.

I also did not know that Carl Anderson had been a member of the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights before becoming Supreme Knight in 2000.

Not quite on this day, but on January 7, 1955, Marian Anderson became the first African American to sing at the Metropolitan Opera.  

The role that African Americans have played in classical music in the USA is unknown and underrated.   Perhaps the greatest was William Grant Still, who became the first African American to conduct a major American orchestra, the Los Angeles Philharmonic, in 1936.  He was active in the concert and motion picture scene in Los Angeles until his death in 1978.  His daughter, Judith Anne Still, maintains the William Grant Still Music website, with a lot of information, and also sells recordings and sheet music.

There's also a wonderful website on the African Heritage in Classical Music where one could immerse oneself profitably in a world that I daresay is new and unknown to most of us.  Let yourself spend some time there.  It could be one of those "aha!" experiences that are mind-broadening if not life-changing.

Blind Artist in Turkey

I just received an email from Aydın Eroğlu, our wonderful guide in Turkey for our Early Christian World Pilgrimage.  He sent the link to a brief (almost 10 minutes) and marvelous video clip about a blind man, who was born without eyes, named Esref Armaga who lives in Ankara, Turkey.  The unique thing about him is that he is a painter, with a distinctive style, wonderful sense of color, and uncanny perspective.  Apparently he has occasioned some groundbreaking brain research into the function of those parts of the brain that process visual imagery, as you'll see in the video:

It's quite a testimony to what the human person, and the human brain, is capable of.

Alive and well

A week ago yesterday I had my enlarged and malignant prostate removed.  (Fast forward: the pathology report indicated that both the "surgical margins" and the nearby lymph nodes are negative, which means 99% sure they got all the bad stuff.)  I will spare you day-by-day, blow-by-blow details of the surgery, my hospital stay, and recovery progress after my release.  

If you want details, click on these links, my experience has been pretty similar: (1) Johns Hopkins' detailed printed instructions to patients; (2) a video of the hospital stay, and (3) video of the operation itself.  For more background, explore the Johns Hopkins site, and I especially recommend the video of Charlie Rose's interview with Dr. Patrick Walsh.  (I wonder how Charlie got that black eye?)

You may notice that the printed "instructions" are for the "minimally invasive" robotic surgery, which is supposed to be less painful and have a quicker recovery time.  I chose to have the open incision, done by a doctor who is trained and experienced in the nerve-sparing methods developed by Dr. Walsh.  One week later I have to say that I do not regret my decision.  On the whole, pain has been minimal and manageable, and stages and pace of recovery are practically identical to those described for the robotic/laparoscopic.  I realize there are many pros and cons regarding this choice, and I could expound at some length about it.  Let's just say that I am content with my choice and move on.

I'm really a lot more interested in sharing how this has been a spiritual experience for me.  Actually, there have been no great awakenings, grand visions, or insights.  It's pretty much in my nature to try to take this kind of thing in stride.  It happens; and I'm grateful for both the benefits and challenges.

For me, the biggest challenge is always uncertainty and ambiguity, and therefore impatience.  Frankly, I was a little surprised at my patience all this time.  (I hope those around me can concur!)  The biggest hassle was rearranging and clearing my schedule, and anticipating enough recovery time.  (I got so many warnings about the price of cutting it too short!)  My biggest fear was that something would cause the surgery to be postponed.  I would not have been a happy camper forced to spend a few extra weeks in "normalcy."

Perhaps there has been something of a quasi-mystical experience in the past week.  I have often felt myself floating on cloud of gratitude.  Don't try to take that in a literal sense, but this acknowledgment of how much I owe everyone, and ultimately God, has been a recurring deeply felt emotion.  I don't know how it will ultimately translate into action, as it must otherwise it will turn into itself and wither.  But for now, I'm just letting the thoughts and feelings flow under and over me.

I realize how uniquely fortunate I am in the quality of medical care that is readily available for me, and is denied to so many.  How does that translate into action?  I'm not so sure that the easy (or obvious) answer of becoming and "activist" or an advocate is the right one, at least for me.  I see Jesus' images of "leaven" and "seed" as bringing about God's reign as really charting the direction for faithful disciples.  I  need to keep thinking about what that means for how I relate to our world.  How can I/we be so transformed as to care for those we would like to ignore, flee from or despise as being "our own"?

So many people are facing much bigger challenges.  It's not enough just to "thank God it's not me."  Perhaps I can feel a little more at one with them, and perhaps find ways of being more present to those whose needs and pain are so much greater.  I personally have never experienced hopelessness or overwhelming pain.  So many have . . .

I'm also grateful to have so many people in my life who love me.  Beginning with my dear friends who have opened their home to me (and putting up with me AND -- so important -- giving me space) during my recovery time.  So many people of the parish and other friends and associates who are praying and have sent well-wishes, especially by email.  And, so essential, the wonderful people of OLA who are keeping the right fires burning (and putting out the wrong ones) while I'm out of the parish.

I'm grateful also for time for prayer that I don't have to wedge into a crowded schedule or feel guilty for having let slip.  

My prayer has been nourished by reading, and two wonderful books have been my companions.  I'd like to tell you about them.

The first one is The Shack, by William Paul Young.  You've probably heard of it; maybe even read it -- today it's #1 on the NY Times trade paperback best seller list, and #6 top seller at Amazon.com.  I had not heard of it until someone gave me a copy before I went in the hospital, and said "You gotta read this."  It's light, both physically and in style, so I thought, "Why not?"  Well, as those of you who have read it know, it's quite a ride.  If you haven't read it, it's indescribable.  (How's that for getting out of having to write a review?)

But I'm sure those who have read it are especially interested in what I -- priest-pastor and all that -- have to say about it from a Catholic viewpoint.  Naturally, I do have a few comments.

Let me lead with the observation that all human language, including that of the Bible, falls far -- infinitely -- short of adequately describing God.  The use of images has always been seen as a help to understand, at least in part, the One Who is essentially beyond our comprehension.  So the images of God in the story in themselves present no problem.  In fact, the way that the Unity and Trinity of God is presented, essentially as a family relationship of love, is 100% in accord with Catholic theological tradition, and, in my humble opinion, is an absolutely brilliant depiction of it.  It's not only fresh -- as all good art, including religious art -- must be, it's charming too -- and a lot more accurate than much of the religious junk food we've been fed.  (Think of holy cards with pink-faced saints, for example.)

The novel grapples seriously with sin, redemption, the problem of evil and forgiveness, and comes to as good an understanding (notice I did not say solution) as possible this side of the Other Side.

One of the problems I saw in the novel is that it was written from an Evangelical Protestant perspective.  Since Protestantism pretty much overturned the use of symbol and image in worship and religious understanding, I kept getting the sense that the author was cautiously looking over his shoulder, as if he might get caught doing something naughty by depicting God the Father as, well . . . if you haven't read the book.

Like any powerful work of art (notice, I didn't say "great work of art"), it's dangerous.  One could superficially skim it for a kind of "new age" feel-good spirituality.  There's a lot in the book to avoid that, but it has to be read carefully, slowly, maybe more than once.  (I suspect a second, meditative reading could be life changing, but I haven't done that yet.  You're still stuck with the same old me.)

On the other hand, those without a Catholic imagination risk seeing the story as threatening to a faith based on biblical literalism.  Too bad.  I'm sure God is "especially fond" of folks like this reviewer, but I think his God is way too small.

The second book is very different yet in some ways similar.  It's The Bastard of Istanbul, by Turkish author, Elif Shafak.  Follow the links to find out more about the book and its author.  She weaves a deeply moving story of two strange and strangely intertwined families, one Turkish living in Istanbul, the other Armenian in the American diaspora.    The author risked imprisonment under the archaic law against "insulting Turkishness," but has shed new light on the intractable problem of the Armenian genocide by relating it to a whole host of other issues in human relationships that call for models of understanding and reconciliation.

Both books point, explicitly or implicitly, to a God who is much beyond, yet infinitely personal.  Nudging us toward the reconciliation that is the culmination of God's plan.  Speaking of God, last Monday's LA Times had an interesting mini-interview with arch-atheist Richards Dawkins.  I was kind of surprised how much I agreed with him!  I don't think the god he doesn't believe in really exists either.  More about that in my next post, God willing.

Welcome! Why a blog now?

Seems to me an adequate answer to that question would be another question, why not now?  Perhaps a better, and more probing, question would be, what took you so long?  This has been germinating in the back of my mind for a long time, and the unique possibilities of writing and publishing in this way have long intrigued me.  Now that, because of my prostate surgery a week ago today, I have an extended period of enforced, distraction-free (more or less!) "leisure" to devote to mind and spirit (while body is sometimes slow to cooperate), I finally thought, no time like the present.

Why "legacy"? Last year I was thinking about what could be my best gift to Our Lady of the Assumption Parish as I enter my fifteenth and final year as pastor.  My thoughts revolved around two poles: first, my own abilities and interests (what do I do best?); and second, a needs assessment of the parish community (what do they need from me?)  As to the first, learning-teaching-sharing, in an engaging and non-academic way, open to everybody, is one of my passions; as to the second, I think one of the greatest unmet, often unrecognized, needs in our Church today is an intelligent understanding of our faith heritage: what do we believe and why?    Around this, I designed a series of public presentations, about two a month, that I would give during my final year here.  So far, they've gove pretty well and have been well received.  I've also put them up on the OLA website, though not in as organized a way as I would like.  In the fall one had to be canceled because I had blindly double-booked myself, and of course, January has had to be rearranged because of my surgery.  The next one is scheduled for Thursday evening, February 12, and will tackle one of my favorite subjects, liturgy or why do we do the stuff we do on Sunday?"

As my "Legacy Series" progressed, I spoke about my own history of faith, as well as my perspective on what's been happening in the Church over the past sixty or so years that I've been experiencing it.  I was hoping (and at the same time fearing) to get into some of the controversial, "hot button" issues about the Church in our day -- and the number seems to be increasing.  That is still my goal, and I hope will form a major part of this blog. 

I hope to invite dialogue and real conversation in this blog, so I am also inviting your comments.  However, I am going to be tightly monitoring comments, and will not allow any to be posted that are anonymous, offensive or argumentative.  While it's okay to disagree, it's not okay to be disagreeable.  My goal is the kind of sharing that can lead to mutual understanding.  There are plenty of forums in which people can argue or dump their garbage.  This will not be one of them. 

Welcome, then, to a little slice of my world.

Fr. Tom Welbers

P.S. Legacy (definition): something handed on from the past.  A word about style.  I want to keep the layout simply and uncluttered.  My experience with aging eyesight is that computer screens do not mimic paper very well.  It's a lot easier on the eyes to read high contrast white letters on a black screen than to decipher black or (God-forbid) gray letters in the glare of a white screen.  There's no hudden symbolism to my choice of colors, fonts, or layout.  Ease of reading and navigation, that's it.