At the risk of sounding like a cliched art critic, last night was a revelation. I joined two parishioners for a concert at the Folger Shakespeare Theater by the Folger Consort. This exceptionally talented musicians are dedicated to preserving and presenting early music (pre-1600) performed on period instruments. Last night’s concert of Christmas music from Italy and Flanders set all my cultural grey cells humming. First, there’s the Folger Theater itself: a small copy of Shakespeare’s Globe housed within the Folger Library on Capitol Hill. Music filled the space transporting listeners back to olde Europe. It was also a treat to see the period instruments: sackbut, harp, viola di gamba, and flutes of every sort… just amazing.
I could go on, but let’s get to our central question, “What was the experience, seen through eyes of faith?” The answer is one word, “Hope.”
As Washingtonians experiencing the renaissance of our city, the benefits of [seemingly] unbounded technology, and the sense of possibility that inherently attends our city’s increasingly young-adult population, we have every reason to be a hopeful people, right? And yet… Depression and anxiety are our most common psychological challenges. Anecdotally: I recently visited my dentist. Having just passed a birthday, age on my mind, I asked him what the best thing I could do for my teeth, longterm, could be. His answer surprised me. He warned, “Don’t ever start grinding your teeth. The most common problem we deal with in middle to older aged folks in DC is cracked teeth from years of stress-grinding.” So much for hope in the comforts of modern living. Could our renaissance forbearers have something to offer?
Consider these verses from last night’s concert,
“[Mary] thou art the supernal queen of glory, and the true medicine of an anxious mind.”
“Let’s now praise the Lord, with songs and musical sounds, for this day is salvation come to this house.”
“In you, Lord, I have put my hope to find lasting mercy: But I was in a sad and dark hell, and struggled in vain, but in you Lord I have put my hope.”
Do these sound like the words of an oppressed feudal people from the “dark” ages? Last night’s music was anything but dark. It was audible light… not a bright shining sunlight, as Palestrina or Bach, but rather a warm hearth glow, comforting as much as inspiring. Hearth language fits in other ways too: much of renaissance music originated from “dance bands,” that is groups of minstrels who would roam from village to village playing for dances by fire light at pubs, inns, etc. As those dancers of old gathered, they’d swap stories, recipes, tales of homelands, but also experiences of faith. Long after the dances ended, after the wine was drained… after plague or war or even death, the faith behind the lyrics remained, woven into hearts by the mellifluous melody. Whether they lived or died, these people had hope. I wonder if they ground their teeth like us.