Thursday, April 28, 2011
On being a Christian...
I am not sure where the theology of "there are no Christians until every mouth in the world confesses Jesus is Lord" came from. I am not ashamed of being a Christian, and no one else can revoke my relationship with the triune God, not even through their disbelief. Interfaith dialogue is not a mishmash of religious pluralities into some unrecognizable singular faith form. It's when I remain Christian and come together with someone who equally finds value in their own faith and we ask questions and talk about how to be neighbors. My faith will sound Christian, because it is. Yours might not, and that's okay. Your faith (or lack of faith) does not threaten my faith. I'm so glad the God of mystery is bigger than all of our narrow theological constructs.
Monday, April 25, 2011
d-minor
The key of d-minor.
d-minor is a deep, rich key. It's the seed that falls on fertile grounds, watered by the spring rains, the tree planted by streams of flowing water. It's the dark green summer foliage of the old oak, thick enough to block out the sun on a hot day.
It's the smell of the forest between campus and the apartments, that intoxicating smell of chlorophyll and pollen. It's the muggy evening meeting the cool breeze. It's the sweater clinging to the arms, still tingling from the performance.
It's the dangerous brew of hot air meeting cold, rotating, swirling, electrifying the sky. It's the stiff wind that blows over your puny little lawn chairs. Your lawn chairs are D-Major. Look how pitiful they are, getting blown over by the changes in air pressure. d-minor laughs at them.
It's the sound of Bach over the cacophony of preachers. Their sermons come and go. Bach will be here much longer than we will. Those who listen will breathe in a master's work on a crummy violin, and breathe out ironic poetry. Is there a point? Perhaps it will serve as an interesting sermon illustration to a handful of mindful pastors, rejuvenated by fresh lectures and time away from home. Their parishioners will be mildly amused by it before returning to their Sunday morning labors of theological construction and mindlessly waiting for lunch.
d-minor is really a lovely key, and the violin seems to love it especially so. I will bring it out again in the morning, and see if there is something left to be said, or if the preachers will forget again to listen. Some will listen, surely, and perhaps be inspired to further poetry.
--to the gentleman in the front row.
d-minor is a deep, rich key. It's the seed that falls on fertile grounds, watered by the spring rains, the tree planted by streams of flowing water. It's the dark green summer foliage of the old oak, thick enough to block out the sun on a hot day.
It's the smell of the forest between campus and the apartments, that intoxicating smell of chlorophyll and pollen. It's the muggy evening meeting the cool breeze. It's the sweater clinging to the arms, still tingling from the performance.
It's the dangerous brew of hot air meeting cold, rotating, swirling, electrifying the sky. It's the stiff wind that blows over your puny little lawn chairs. Your lawn chairs are D-Major. Look how pitiful they are, getting blown over by the changes in air pressure. d-minor laughs at them.
It's the sound of Bach over the cacophony of preachers. Their sermons come and go. Bach will be here much longer than we will. Those who listen will breathe in a master's work on a crummy violin, and breathe out ironic poetry. Is there a point? Perhaps it will serve as an interesting sermon illustration to a handful of mindful pastors, rejuvenated by fresh lectures and time away from home. Their parishioners will be mildly amused by it before returning to their Sunday morning labors of theological construction and mindlessly waiting for lunch.
d-minor is really a lovely key, and the violin seems to love it especially so. I will bring it out again in the morning, and see if there is something left to be said, or if the preachers will forget again to listen. Some will listen, surely, and perhaps be inspired to further poetry.
--to the gentleman in the front row.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
A testimony for the arts
With budget deficits looming large in every corner of the government, many very important programs have been on the chopping block. Recently, people have been standing up to defend the arts in schools and towns in many places. To some, particularly those who have not taken part in arts programs in their area, this seems very strange. Why sacrifice math, science, and language arts classroom time to go play around with instruments? Shouldn't that be considered recess and therefore expendable? Why cut football programs when the choral program doesn't do anything worthwhile? Why rely on government to pay for leisure programs, when that should be paid for entirely through private donations? What's even the point of knowing the difference between Mozart and Beethoven?
This is a huge issue, probably larger than what you think. And to let you know the truth, the arts have hardly been safe in prosperous economic times. In the 90s, I remember the tireless work my mother and others put into bringing an orchestra program to a large Texas high school. I remember how hard my middle school teacher worked to teach in 3 different schools, because each program was so small. And I'll let you in on how the story has affected my life: After first picking up a violin at the age of 12 in a poorly-funding public middle school orchestra program, I fell in love with music. Music was all I could talk about. I practiced violin all the time. I played it everywhere I could. I can't believe how many free gigs I did in high school (oh wait, I can't believe how many free gigs I still do now). Playing violin has been synonymous with breathing. If I stop playing, I will cease to live. You laugh, but I really do take it this seriously. This is why I have a degree in violin performance. This is why I do those free gigs. This is why I work so hard in order to merely taste the amazing orchestral and chamber music repertoire that is available for performance. All of us have been given an amazing gift: the art of music has been developed for centuries by some of the greatest artists and masters who had the chance to be published (if only we could have preserved the work of women, minorities in the Western world, and non-Western music better!).
I'll also give a new perspective as a seminary student looking toward a life of ministry: I understand that there is more to life and the world than music. My focus on ministry has been a desire to see healing and fullness of life where there is currently very little, and music performance hasn't fully served the purpose I have desired for it to have through the years. It's still very present in my life, and I still gig and play regularly in many ensembles. I also have the joy of bringing about dialogue between the “classical” world and the world of worship (still largely the same thing to me; classical performance is worship to me). However, I know where priorities lie, and I still think music education is a priority.
In that mode of thinking, I see how music is absolutely necessary in helping children and adults in this time make sense of the world and make it a better place. From my perspective in the Southeastern US, we have not been very good stewards of this gift God has given us. There have been numerous studies about the correlation between music and good grades in other classes, but I won't attempt to analyze them here (google search “music and higher grades”).
The latest brain research has led us to new insights on how we should structure education. Reading this book and then stepping into almost any public school classroom will make you cringe. So will watching Waiting for Superman. If we really do learn by these “Brain Rules,” then schools are hardly a place of learning, first of all. Major changes will need to happen. One positive side to schools is the emphasis placed in diverse learning. Not only do we cover math and language arts, but we learn through visual art (appreciation and creation), we learn through physical activities (where I would personally place one aspect of violin performance), and we learn through music. I still think American schools should intentionally integrate a time of rest, as a form of naptime, or as a form of being still and listening to music as leisure. I think John Medina would go for that.
Going back in time a little, Howard Gardner wrote a theory in the 1980s about multiple intelligences. This has been widely read and implemented in schools willing to be more experimental than public schools (is that even possible, I wonder?), though I understand charter schools and others have taken seriously some of this research. The multiple intelligences are: spatial, linguistic, logical-mathematical, bodily-kinesthetic, musical, interpersonal, intrapersonal, and naturalistic (and maybe existential- it's still under debate). As you see, musical intelligence is actually considered an intelligence. It has its own system of symbols (one in which most people still cannot read), its own verbal expressions, its own processes of development. Even cooler is that some people are actually born with a predisposition toward that intelligence, one that can be developed over a lifetime. As someone born into a family where no one else had developed a musical intelligence, it can be very difficult to figure things out on your own. I needed help from the outside, and the school was a great place to discover this intelligence and begin to develop it.
To be honest, I did not get into music school simply because I showed up to orchestra class everyday in middle and high schools. It took endless practice, lessons, recitals, auditions, performances, gigs, many teachers and clinicians and masterclasses with good violinists to prepare me. I also needed an instrument, and strings (maybe one set per 6-9 months), and someone to drive me to rehearsals and lessons and everything else. These things had to get paid for. It was a lot of work, none of which I regret. However, none of this would have happened if I had not attended a Dallas Symphony Orchestra concert and tried out a violin in their “petting zoo” of orchestral instruments, and then I had a place to go and try out this whole “violin” thing- in the public school (the only place I could turn to at that point). I learned then that touching and trying out an instrument gives a small opportunity to see things differently. As I learned in my own life and the lives of my students, playing violin develops not just musical intelligence but also bodily-kinesthetic intelligence.
I also spent 4 years teaching in the String Project at my school during my studies. I recruited elementary school students in classrooms and gymnasiums by talking about the bowed stringed instruments, playing small snippets of pieces they'd recognize (to show a small piece of the diversity of music), and let some of them try playing violin. While recruiting one year, a friend opened an opportunity to recruit in a nearby county that had been closed to us. We received a record number of students enrolling that semester. It was a county where students would otherwise never play a violin, viola, cello, or bass. Our program was not-for-profit and cost a minimal amount of money to enroll; all the teachers were on very limited scholarships. We taught because we love music, because someone shared the gift with us, and we wanted to share it with the next generation. I was priviledged to see transformation in children's lives. Music opened up their world to them. Before, they only knew rock and roll, rap, country, blues, jazz (all of which are fantastic and we incorporated them into our repertoire as we could). Soon, they could add German Baroque (Bach), French Renaissance (Josquin des Prez), Austrian Classical (Mozart), and so many other genres. They learned about the history and theory behind music. They played solos, they played orchestral works, they played chamber music, they learned how to conduct, they learned to read music (which sharpened their word-reading skills too), they learned to develop not just a love for music but a love for the discipline it takes to hone a skill. Some of these kids have gone on to do much more exciting things than anything I've ever done. When you learn to do something well in one field, it's much easier to have the confidence and discipline to learn something in a different field. When your primary intelligence is musical, you need to be exposed to the creation, performance, and appreciation of music in order to fully realize who you are, who God made you to be. When all avenues for musical exploration have dried up (because football was more important to the school), you lose an important key to who you are.
As an adult, I continue to learn more and more about music, and it is still quite central to my life. To begin studies at the age of 26 though, I would feel overwhelmed. I've taught private lessons for years, and while I have helped adults begin and work tirelessly through the rigors of musical training, it's not as easy as it would have been if they had started at a younger age. Really, age 12 is fairly late to begin lessons, and I am shocked that I ever managed to be that productive as a teenager, but for someone whose life is meant to reside in musical exploration, the earlier we start- the better.
Lastly, I mean to address the sort of insider/outsider nature of the musically-literate in this country. It seems that if you “know” music, then you're in. If you don't, you're out. If you are in, you can read the secret language (musical notation), and you can talk about old, dead, white composers over lattes. You can snear at the musically-illiterate as barbarians without culture and carry on with your infinitely more important conversation about 12-tone compositions and modern conducting techiniques. Bleck! What a horrid picture! Despite what you think, most musicians are quite humble and want to share the gifts they have been given. No, I and most other musicians do not judge you if you cannot read music, but we feel that if you wanted to take time to learn how to read basic aspects of a score (not impossible to do online, even), you might enjoy it and find something valuable. It might bless you and the people around you. We musicians just want to be a blessing. However, I never cease to be amazed at the crowd of semi-proficient musicians who do like to be snobby about their music. Just because I don't know the names of every single little rock band that ever came out of Athens, Georgia doesn't mean I'm a bad musician. It just means I'm out of my field, and I'm willing to learn. Likewise, competeing musical philosophies should find some common ground about educating the next generation. Just because I think the sex-appeal of music should be kept to a minimum doesn't mean I can't partner with VH-1 Save the Music program. One of my favorite things about working as a musician is meeting all different types of people, getting to know them, and then making music with them. It's difficult sometimes, but it also helps one to see the humanity in other people when all rely on each other to interpret and perform a composition.
Going back in time a little, Howard Gardner wrote a theory in the 1980s about multiple intelligences. This has been widely read and implemented in schools willing to be more experimental than public schools (is that even possible, I wonder?), though I understand charter schools and others have taken seriously some of this research. The multiple intelligences are: spatial, linguistic, logical-mathematical, bodily-kinesthetic, musical, interpersonal, intrapersonal, and naturalistic (and maybe existential- it's still under debate). As you see, musical intelligence is actually considered an intelligence. It has its own system of symbols (one in which most people still cannot read), its own verbal expressions, its own processes of development. Even cooler is that some people are actually born with a predisposition toward that intelligence, one that can be developed over a lifetime. As someone born into a family where no one else had developed a musical intelligence, it can be very difficult to figure things out on your own. I needed help from the outside, and the school was a great place to discover this intelligence and begin to develop it.
To be honest, I did not get into music school simply because I showed up to orchestra class everyday in middle and high schools. It took endless practice, lessons, recitals, auditions, performances, gigs, many teachers and clinicians and masterclasses with good violinists to prepare me. I also needed an instrument, and strings (maybe one set per 6-9 months), and someone to drive me to rehearsals and lessons and everything else. These things had to get paid for. It was a lot of work, none of which I regret. However, none of this would have happened if I had not attended a Dallas Symphony Orchestra concert and tried out a violin in their “petting zoo” of orchestral instruments, and then I had a place to go and try out this whole “violin” thing- in the public school (the only place I could turn to at that point). I learned then that touching and trying out an instrument gives a small opportunity to see things differently. As I learned in my own life and the lives of my students, playing violin develops not just musical intelligence but also bodily-kinesthetic intelligence.
I also spent 4 years teaching in the String Project at my school during my studies. I recruited elementary school students in classrooms and gymnasiums by talking about the bowed stringed instruments, playing small snippets of pieces they'd recognize (to show a small piece of the diversity of music), and let some of them try playing violin. While recruiting one year, a friend opened an opportunity to recruit in a nearby county that had been closed to us. We received a record number of students enrolling that semester. It was a county where students would otherwise never play a violin, viola, cello, or bass. Our program was not-for-profit and cost a minimal amount of money to enroll; all the teachers were on very limited scholarships. We taught because we love music, because someone shared the gift with us, and we wanted to share it with the next generation. I was priviledged to see transformation in children's lives. Music opened up their world to them. Before, they only knew rock and roll, rap, country, blues, jazz (all of which are fantastic and we incorporated them into our repertoire as we could). Soon, they could add German Baroque (Bach), French Renaissance (Josquin des Prez), Austrian Classical (Mozart), and so many other genres. They learned about the history and theory behind music. They played solos, they played orchestral works, they played chamber music, they learned how to conduct, they learned to read music (which sharpened their word-reading skills too), they learned to develop not just a love for music but a love for the discipline it takes to hone a skill. Some of these kids have gone on to do much more exciting things than anything I've ever done. When you learn to do something well in one field, it's much easier to have the confidence and discipline to learn something in a different field. When your primary intelligence is musical, you need to be exposed to the creation, performance, and appreciation of music in order to fully realize who you are, who God made you to be. When all avenues for musical exploration have dried up (because football was more important to the school), you lose an important key to who you are.
As an adult, I continue to learn more and more about music, and it is still quite central to my life. To begin studies at the age of 26 though, I would feel overwhelmed. I've taught private lessons for years, and while I have helped adults begin and work tirelessly through the rigors of musical training, it's not as easy as it would have been if they had started at a younger age. Really, age 12 is fairly late to begin lessons, and I am shocked that I ever managed to be that productive as a teenager, but for someone whose life is meant to reside in musical exploration, the earlier we start- the better.
Lastly, I mean to address the sort of insider/outsider nature of the musically-literate in this country. It seems that if you “know” music, then you're in. If you don't, you're out. If you are in, you can read the secret language (musical notation), and you can talk about old, dead, white composers over lattes. You can snear at the musically-illiterate as barbarians without culture and carry on with your infinitely more important conversation about 12-tone compositions and modern conducting techiniques. Bleck! What a horrid picture! Despite what you think, most musicians are quite humble and want to share the gifts they have been given. No, I and most other musicians do not judge you if you cannot read music, but we feel that if you wanted to take time to learn how to read basic aspects of a score (not impossible to do online, even), you might enjoy it and find something valuable. It might bless you and the people around you. We musicians just want to be a blessing. However, I never cease to be amazed at the crowd of semi-proficient musicians who do like to be snobby about their music. Just because I don't know the names of every single little rock band that ever came out of Athens, Georgia doesn't mean I'm a bad musician. It just means I'm out of my field, and I'm willing to learn. Likewise, competeing musical philosophies should find some common ground about educating the next generation. Just because I think the sex-appeal of music should be kept to a minimum doesn't mean I can't partner with VH-1 Save the Music program. One of my favorite things about working as a musician is meeting all different types of people, getting to know them, and then making music with them. It's difficult sometimes, but it also helps one to see the humanity in other people when all rely on each other to interpret and perform a composition.
Friends, I am really not an apologist, in part because I'm not very good at it and in part because I think people will only be convince when they realize how powerful it is to make music (to hold an instrument in your own hands and learn what billions of people have done for thousands of years before you in the field of music). So, for public policy issues, I ask Mr. Kevin Spacey to make a better argument that you can put in your pocket and carry with you. Ahem...Mr. Spacey, you have the floor:
The first post
On Monday, Jon Stewart interviewed guest Billy Crystal on his show. Apparently, Crystal was debating what to write as his very first tweet after the show.
Likewise, I am not sure what is the best topic for a first blog post, so it might really be limited to a clip from The Daily Show and a disclaimer:
We all have our favorite blogs we visit; our Google Readers are filled with excellent content from award-winning sites. Unlike those blogs, this one will be highly sporadic. Some weeks, I very well might write a novel. It might take a couple months to recover though. This is not my first experience with publishing online content, and I hope this might be a good home for my thoughts over the next few years. As I see the end of my seminary studies near, I hope that this will be a host for my writing endeavors, a fitting replacement to all those exegesis papers, sermons, final essays, and ubiquitous group projects. I welcome your comments, and I hope this can be a safe and loving medium for discussion about stuff that matters. Just remember that God is still God over this blog (while I am more of a moderator/commenter), and I hope we can all strive to love our neighbors as ourselves here as well as everywhere, though imperfectly still.
Peace, y'all.
Likewise, I am not sure what is the best topic for a first blog post, so it might really be limited to a clip from The Daily Show and a disclaimer:
We all have our favorite blogs we visit; our Google Readers are filled with excellent content from award-winning sites. Unlike those blogs, this one will be highly sporadic. Some weeks, I very well might write a novel. It might take a couple months to recover though. This is not my first experience with publishing online content, and I hope this might be a good home for my thoughts over the next few years. As I see the end of my seminary studies near, I hope that this will be a host for my writing endeavors, a fitting replacement to all those exegesis papers, sermons, final essays, and ubiquitous group projects. I welcome your comments, and I hope this can be a safe and loving medium for discussion about stuff that matters. Just remember that God is still God over this blog (while I am more of a moderator/commenter), and I hope we can all strive to love our neighbors as ourselves here as well as everywhere, though imperfectly still.
Peace, y'all.
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