Date: Monday, June 23, 2014
Time: 8:00 pm local time/2:00 pm EST Place: Venice, Italy Hello all! We spent today in Venice and Burano (an Island that is probably still considered Venice). It was a lot of fun, but oh so very hot and sweaty. We had breakfast in the hotel this morning. It was the traditional European breakfast: croissants and other pastries, hard boiled eggs (passed), luncheon meats and cheese (passed), corn flakes, and a hot drink. It was quite good, but not much to talk about. I had taken a shower and was wearing clean(ish) clothes, but by the time I got down to the lobby it was already hot, sticky, and nasty. After a while we rode the water busses (vespetta?) out to the San Marco station. It was maybe a 20 minute ride. Our first stop there was at the Doge’s palace, which was the home of the Doge (the leader of Venice, who was elected for a one-year term by the richest families in Venice) and also the seat of government for the city. The building was absolutely huge, with a courtyard at least as big as a soccer field and one room that could have been a basketball court with only minor modifications. The dungeon had at least 30 cells, with probably many more through doors that we weren’t able to go through. We got to see the armory, which was full of all sorts of old armor, swords, and guns—including a musket that had about 15 or 20 barrels (Imagine a revolver, but with each a full barrel). After finishing up at the Doge’s palace we went to the Basilica San Marco (St. Mark’s Basilica, where the Apostle Mark’s bones are supposed to be buried). Dr. Diller explained to us why it was so important to these Christians to see the bones of the saints. She said that now we have the Bible and the historical evidence behind it to say that, at the very least, Jesus was a historical person. During the Middle Ages and Renaissance, however, this research didn’t exist, or if it did, it was unavailable to the common people who instead wanted to see these relics. San Marco was a breathtakingly beautiful place, but I didn’t feel the same sense of awe that I felt at San Giorgio’s yesterday. St. Mark’s felt so busy and commercial. There were even two gift shops. The church is beautiful and significant (especially musically), but I feel that the spiritual life has gone out of it. The inside of the church is actually much closer to what you would find in the Eastern Orthodox Church, not the Catholic Church. There are mosaics on the walls and ceilings, and the church is one large Greek cross (with all four arms of the same length) as oppose to a Roman cross (with two short arms and two long arms). After finishing our visit to San Marco we had some free time, so both Laughlins, Joel, and I went to make our lunch. After spending quite a bit of money on food the past few days, we vowed to eat sandwiches at least once a day for a while, at least. We walked quite a ways, and found a nice little bench to sit on and make our peanut butter or Nutella sandwiches. They were very good, especially with Sour Cream and Onion Pringles. For dessert we had some very yummy hazelnut cookies (that looked sort of like Fig Newtons). The four of us walked around the city for about an hour and a half, just exploring around the twisted alleys and tourist shops. It was a lot of fun, and it didn’t even really wear me out. We even managed to find a grocery store that sold 1.5 liter bottles of water for 48 Euro cents. That was beautiful since the night before I had paid E4.50 for a less amount of water. I drank the whole thing, and didn’t even need to go to the bathroom, which shows how dehydrated I am. We got lost trying to find our way back to civilization, but we were able to hop on the water bus and go up about six stops (that means we really went far afield while we were exploring) and make it to our rendezvous point just as the church bell was ringing 2 o’clock. The large group walked to a different bus stop, stopping on the way by a statue of a man on a horse. It was the oldest Equine statue since the time of the Greeks and the Romans. There are four Bronze horses from the time of Alexander the Great which were stolen from Constantinople during the fourth (?) crusade. They went to San Marco at that point, and then were stolen by Napoleon (sometime between the late 1700s and early 1800s). They were put on the l’Arc du Triomphe, but eventually were returned and are in San Marco. We got on the water bus and travelled for a little over an hour to an island called Burano. It was quite lovely, if very touristy. The whole reason Dr. Wholers took us out there was to buy us some yummy cookies. Then he left us on our own to explore for a while. The cool thing about the city was that the buildings are very colorful. There is a puzzle of a row of houses from this city, and we found the row, and I took pictures. I was a statue of Baldassare Gallupi, a composer that was born on Burano in 1706 and died in Venice in 1785. He made his fame and fortune in London and St. Petersburg as a composer of opera. We came back over to the mainland, and then came back to our hotel for a chance to cool down before going for supper. On the way back to the hotel we stopped for the gelato that we never found for lunch. I had chocolate and strawberry, both of which were so yummy! We went to a cheap/yummy Italian restaurant a little ways from our hotel. It is called Brek, and it was quite good. I got a nice little meal (a piece of vegetable lasagna, a roll, and a salad) for about E10, which is about $12-15, so not horrible. On the way back to the hotel we decided to stop for suppertime gelato, which was well worth it. Tomorrow we move from Venice (and hopefully the hot) to Florence, which is in Tuscanny, the home of pasta. I can’t say that I’m disappointed. Venice has been just a little too hot and crowded for my tastes. Love to all! Robby
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Date: June 22, 2014
Time: 10:21 pm local time/4:21 pm EST Place: Venice, Italy I wrote the blog post for yesterday on the train this morning (the 22nd), and managed to finish it in a little less than the hour it took us to get from Bern to Brig. From Brig we were to get on a high speed train to Venice, but unfortunately the train had trouble. They sent us a temporary train, which was smaller and much less plush. It was so small, in fact, that it didn’t allow me to have a seat. I stood in the space between the cars as we wooshed by. We went down one stop (which was about 30 minutes or so), then we got off and switched to the right kind of train. We had been given specific seats, which were nice. I sat next to Kaiti, with Dr. Laughlin and Mrs. Goddard sharing a row facing me, but down and across the aisle. They slept most of the time. Lisa Diller was in the same row as them, but on our side of the aisle. Joel sat behind me. It was a very leisurely ride with beautiful scenery. I worked on reading my Bach book for a while, and I’m sure I dozed for a couple of hours. We made sandwiches for lunch, figuring that we could save some money. They were so good! We arrived in Venice about 3 o’clock our time (about 9 o’clock your time), and we walked the few blocks to our hotel. Our next appointment was at 4, so we had a bit of time. We walked up the four flights of stairs, and as soon as we opened the door, all four of us were drenched in sweat. It was so completely hot. We saw an air conditioner on our wall, and we eventually figured out that we needed a remote from the front desk. It’s set to 16 degrees right now, which is equivalent to 60 Fahrenheit. Maybe for the first time this trip I’ll sleep all the way through the night. We met in the lobby of the hotel at 4, then went to take the water taxi (which has an Italian name, but I can’t think of what it is) to San Giorgio, a Renaissance style church down the Grand Canal. We managed to get on the wrong boat (the story of my life), and so we got to see a lot of the city, and finally arrived at San Giorgio (the church of St. George, the same George who supposedly slew a dragon) about 15 minutes before closing time. Our large group is quite loud (we have several South Americans), but as soon as we entered the church a hush fell over the group. It was absolutely breathtaking. There was a feeling that I couldn’t quite place. It was reverence, but more than that. I can’t quite place it. There is a late Romantic/early Baroque painting of the Last Supper, painted by Jacopo Tintoretto about 100 years after Leonardo da Vinci’s famous painting by the same name. When put side by side, these two pictures don’t really compare, but we can compare them because they are of the same subject. Leonardo’s painting is very austere and is painted from the front. The room is well lit. In Tintoretto’s painting, however, the room is very dark, but he masterfully uses light to bring new drama to the story. The organ of the church is quite beautiful. It sits above the altar, and in front of the choir loft. The choir actually sings from the floor, but from behind the altar. They sit in a deep ‘U’ shape, where they face each other which allows them to hear each other well and stay together in the rich acoustics of the church. Dr. Diller gave us a lecture on the importance of Venice in European history, which I wasn’t able to take notes on, so I’ll do my best to recount a little bit of it for you. Venice was built up out of the ocean after some invading army forced them off the main land. They were the center of trading, especially during the Crusades, as they were a stopping off point for English and French crusaders who didn’t want to march to the Holy Lands. The city has ties to Greek Orthodox Church and to the Byzantine Empire (which really was the remnants of the Roman Empire, saved in Constantinople). During one of the crusades, the Venetians had been hired to take a large number of Crusaders to the Holy Lands, but they couldn’t find enough people to go on the trip. The Venetians made them change their deal to where they would attack Constantinople before being taken to the Holy Lands to wage more war. Venice was the heart of European culture, and they therefore became very rich. Italy wasn’t unified until the middle of the 19th century, but Venice began to come together much earlier than that (I want to say 14th century, but I don’t remember for sure) under the leadership of the Doge who was elected, though not by popular election (more like elected by the parliament). It became the heart of culture when the Arab world (Turkey, Syria, etc.) were opened up to scholars. There they found old manuscripts in the original languages, documents from Italian and European history (think Plato and Aristotle) which had been forgotten in Europe for centuries. The scholars came to Venice because that was where they could find the documents. Venice was one of the first places that the Renaissance took place in Europe, but it quickly spread. After visiting San Giorgio we were released from our group and allowed to roam around for a while, looking for food. Lisa Diller told us on the boat that Venice was not the place to go for pasta, but it was good for pizza, so a group of nine of us went looking for a pizza place Kaiti had gone to a few years before. We couldn’t find it, but we did find another one and we all sat down to enjoy our pizzas. People hadn’t been able to get cash yet, and the people at the restaurant didn’t want us to do separate checks. I volunteered to pay with my credit card and let them pay me within a few days, though most of them were able to pay me right then. Part of the group decided they wanted to go on a gondola ride, but both Laughlins, Joel, and I were tired and ready to head back to the hotel. We walked through the city for a while, then got on a crowded boat for a while, which was very hot. When we landed at our stop, we paused at a gelato stand (yummy!) and we got various cones. I had a scoop of mint and a scoop of a wonderfully rich, but not particularly dark, chocolate. That’s about it for today! Love you all! Robby Date: Friday, June 20, 2014
Time: 8:45 pm local time/2:45 pm EST Place: Bern, Switzerland Hey folks! I’m exhausted again, though maybe not as bone-weary was I was this time last night. We had to leave our hotel by 7:45 this morning, and breakfast began at 6:30. Joel and I thought that it would be good to wake up by about six so we could get showers before heading to breakfast before it got too full. I set the alarm on my phone for six o’clock, but kept waking up to see what time it was. About 11:55 or so I woke up, thinking that my phone hadn’t changed time zones and that it was 6 in the morning (we’re six hours ahead over here). After trying, unsuccessfully, to wake Joel, I grabbed clean clothes and trudged to the shower, leaving the light on which I thought might wake him up slowly. I went into the bathroom, and while preparing for my shower it dawned on me that I should go check my watch (which I knew was running the right time). So I went back to the room and checked it, and lo and behold it was just about midnight. I’m so glad that I didn’t take the shower at that point, because I would never have fallen asleep. Joel and I went down to breakfast a few minutes past 6:30 and were soon joined by Kathy Goddard. It was a very European breakfast: fresh croissants, corn flakes without milk but with yogurt, and I had some mint tea, too. Quite yummy, but not quite filling (or at least) not filling for any amount of time. After breakfast and packing up essentials (like an umbrella) for the day, we walked a few minutes (maybe 5-7) to a park by the Swiss Parliament. We had a brief worship talk from Dr. Wohlers. He read Psalm 117 to us, and then we had a quick prayer. After worship Dr. Diller took the floor and lectured to us about the history of Switzerland, its people, and their culture. If you look at a map of Switzerland you can see tall mountains and deep valleys, which has led them to being very isolated culturally, even from themselves. That isolation has even gone so far as to make their Swiss German language sound like a much more like Old German, and it’s difficult for a non-Swiss to learn Swiss German because there isn’t really a standard language. It’s even different enough between two towns 20 miles away that you can tell where people are from. The Swiss didn’t have before 1848 the Swiss really had no sort of allegiance to Switzerland, but to their canton. A canton is not quite a city state, but not quite a county either. A fairly small region that shared a common language and customs. Switzerland was the home of the Neanderthals (whatever we believe they actually were), and in more modern history it was the home of the Celts. Once Rome fell and became the various tribes, the tribes native to Switzerland were the Alemanni and the Helvetii, from which the Swiss get their official name, the Confoederatio Helvetica. This area was quite Christian by the year 200, but paganism had set in by around 500 when it needed to be reconverted by Celtic Christian missionaries. At some point I will try to write a post about the “White Martyrdom,” which really doesn’t have anything to do with Switzerland, but it also does. Google it for more information until I get around to it. I talked yesterday about Grossmünster Cathedral in Zurich. Dr. Diller told us today that on the side of the church is a statue of Charlemagne who was the Holy Roman Emperor who sent missionaries to the area in the 700s. Those missionaries founded the church that would eventually move into the Grossmünster. The Swiss Reformation began c. 1523, less than a decade after Luther’s 95 Theses were nailed to the Schlosskirche (Castle Church) in Wittenberg. The two names most important in the Swiss Reformation are John Calvin (who focused his energies in Geneva) and Huldrych Zwingli who was stationed in Zurich’s Grossmünster church. There was no concept of Separation of Church and State during the Reformation, because it was thanks to the Holy Roman Princes that the Reformation was able to happen as effectively as it did. They allowed the publication of anti-Roman writings and protected the Reformers from the Church. It is hard for us living in these modern times to not look at the Princes’ involvement with the Reformation as anything but political, but Dr. Diller pointed out that it probably was, at least for the most part, a deep desire to follow the Bible. A generation or two after the Protestant reformation died down in Switzerland, the individual cantons were in a position where they could individually decide to accept Protestantism or Catholicism, and it depended on the region. It was about this time, however, when the Anabaptists (those who believed that baptism should be an adult decision and therefore were re-baptized as adults) were beginning to rise. These newcomers to the religious scene were dangerous to the fabric of the society. Up to that point, the main point of government was to raise money so they could go to war to get more land. The Anabaptists, however, were pacifists. In reality they weren’t even really citizens. In those days (the mid-to-late 1500s or so), birth and death records weren’t kept by the state. They were kept by the church. Your birth certificate was really your baptismal certificate. (This was true even with Bach in 1685 and Beethoven in 1770). If you weren’t baptized as a baby, you weren’t on any sort of books until you were baptized as an adult (not even a teenager). These strange new beliefs worried both the Protestants and Catholics, so they both began to persecute the Anabaptists. The center of this persecution was Bern. Eventually those Anabaptists who survived moved out of the area, many coming to Pennsylvania, eventually becoming the Amish or Mennonites. Switzerland was captured by Napoleon for a short time during the Napoleonic Wars (which were fought from the late 1700s through somewhere before 1820. After these wars were over the Council of Vienna met to re-sort Europe, reestablishing earlier borders. At this time the countries began to modernize their governments. The Swiss had problems, however, because they never had any particularly strong ties to a central government. Instead, they were loyal to their canton. In 1848 these cantons formed the Helvetic Confederation, which is basically the Switzerland we know now. In the late nineteenth century Switzerland decided that it should build up its infrastructure to allow for people to take their vacations here (which they already did). The country decided to stay neutral in World War I and II, though it was quite difficult to do so in WWII because they were completely surrounded by the Axis. Their neutrality was accepted by all, though, because they were the financial capital of the world. If a country is going to be invaded, they get as much of their movable capital out of the country and into a Swiss bank account. Because Switzerland was neutral during the war, however, there was nothing to force the issue of women having the right to vote. In much of the world the idea says that if women are working for the war effort (while their husbands are fighting) they should be allowed to vote. In Switzerland, the right to vote for all women wasn’t accomplished until the 1990s. After our lesson in the park we walked to the Haputbahnhoff to get on our train to Interlaken, which is a gorgeous part of Switzerland which is situated in the Alps. As we were on our train, we got to enjoy a lot of beautiful scenery, which I tried to take pictures of, but my pictures really don’t do justice to the absolute beauty of the area. We got off the train at the Interlaken Ost (East) station and bought tickets for a ride up and around some of the Alpine mountains. The views were absolutely breathtaking, but I had a quick thought: It’s a wound. Ellen White explains in pages 107 and 108 of Patriarchs and Prophets: "The entire surface of the earth was changed at the Flood. A third dreadful curse rested upon it in consequence of sin. As the water began to subside, the hills and mountains were surrounded by a vast, turbid sea, Everywhere were strewn the dead bodies of men and beasts. The Lord would not permit these to remain to decompose and pollute the air, therefore He made of the earth a vast burial ground. A violent wind which was caused to blow for the purpose of drying up the waters, moved them with great force, in some instances even carrying away the tops of the mountains and heaping up trees, rocks, and earth above the bodies of the dead. By the same means the silver and gold, the choice wood and precious stones, which had enriched and adorned the world before the Flood, and which the inhabitants had idolized, were concealed from the sight and search of men, the violent action of the waters piling earth and rocks upon these treasures, and in some cases even forming mountains above them. God saw that the more He enriched and prospered sinful men, the more they would corrupt their ways before Him. The treasures that should have led them to glorify the bountiful Giver had been worshiped, while God had been dishonored and despised. The earth presented an appearance of confusion and desolation impossible to describe. The mountains, once so beautiful in their perfect symmetry, had become broken and irregular. Stones, ledges, and ragged rocks were now scattered upon the surface of the earth. In many places hills and mountains had disappeared, leaving no trace where they once stood; and plains had given place to mountain ranges. These changes were more marked in some places than in others. Where once had been earth's richest treasures of gold, silver, and precious stones, were seen the heaviest marks of the curse. And upon countries that were not inhabited, and those where there had been the least crime, the curse rested more lightly." I didn’t rest on this idea for long, but I was reminded again how beautiful heaven will be if one of the most beautiful spots on earth is a wound upon the earth. The majority of our day was spent riding trains all around the Interlaken area, enjoying the scenery, some pictures of which I’ll put on Facebook. There was a castle we wanted to see, but it was schedule to close at 5 o’clock. Dr. Laughlin went and asked about it, and said that if we wanted even a chance to see it we had to get on the 4 o’clock train from Interlaken back toward Bern. We were to stop at the town of Thun (pronounced tune). We got off the train at about 4:35 and walked very, very quickly up the mountain to the castle. As we rounded each new corner to find yet another new corner, I was sweating buckets and sure that I would die right then and there, without even reaching the castle. We got there at 4:55, but it was already closed. They were celebrating their 750th anniversary (which is an amazingly long time, come to think about it), and had closed to decorate for a party sometime this weekend. All that way, all those pounds washed away, and for nothing. We walked (a shorter, much more direct way) back down to the main town of Thun, looking for food. It took us probably another 30 minutes before settling on an Italian restaurant. Mrs. Goddard and I shared a mushroom pizza (which I picked the mushrooms off of), and we chatted around the table for probably most of an hour. Earlier on in the day we had been discussing the four personality types (Sanguine, Melancholy, Choleric, and Phlegmatic). I couldn’t quite get them figured out, but Mrs. Goddard was helping me by giving me mnemonic her husband used. A man is sitting on a bench, with his hat next to him. Someone comes and sits down on his hat. The Sanguine laughs, the Melancholy cries, the Choleric hollers, and the Phlegmatic puts his hat on and walks away. After we finished eating we walked to the train station so that we could get back to our hotel and ask our receptionist/concierge where to find Apfelstrudel mit vanillesauce. We got to the station within a few minutes of getting on a train heading toward Bern. This train was of a different brand, however, and before our first stop Joel discovered that this brand wasn’t on our Eurorail pass. We got off at the next stop, which, it turned out, was not served by any other line. Our options were to get back on the next train heading to Thun, or get back on heading toward Bern. During this time we discovered that (we think) we were allowed to be on that train, so we decided to take the next train to Bern. During that time we chatted some more, Mrs. Goddard posing the question how would each of the personality types respond to this afternoons misadventures (missing the castle, getting on the wrong train, etc.), and that is where my title comes from. The Choleric would have yelled about it, the Melancholy would have broken down into tears, the Sanguine would have laughed, and the Phlegmatic would shrug his shoulders and wait patiently. The train finally came to get us, and we made our return trip to Bern, though we arrived at a different place. I would have been completely lost, but Joel and Kaiti knew exactly where we were going. They got us back to the hotel in one piece, but when we got there we found out that there were no restaurants open to sell Apfelstrudel. I’m back in the room now, and ready for bed. It’s almost 10:30, so good night. Love to all! Robby PS My walking estimate is a minimum of 3 miles today. I started a hunt for a pedometer today, but without luck. Date: Thursday, June 19, 2014
Time: 8:55 pm local time/2:55 pm EST Place: Bern, Switzerland Dear Folks! I know the title is a little facetious, though at this point it really seems as if I have walked that far. My feet hurt and there’s nothing more that I want to do than to get in bed. That will come in a few minutes. Dad dropped me off at the airport yesterday at about noon, after we had some trouble finding the right place. We eventually got there and I went in and got registered. I ended up checking Dr. Laughlin’s bag (which was housing unexpected liquids and my peanut butter). We (Kaiti, Dr. Laughlin, Mrs. Goddard, and I) quickly made it through security and settled in at our gate (E-18). A few hours later we got on the plane (about 4:30) and were soon airborne! The flight was just over nine hours long, and it was quite miserable. I tried to fall asleep, but by the time I got tired enough to fall asleep, I got to fight with restless leg syndrome. I think I finally got about an hour of sleep. We got off the airport and went through customs, where I had no problems getting into the country. From the airport we walked a few blocks to the train station, where we were given our Eurorail passes. These passes are as important as our passports, so we were threatened not to lose them. We rode the train from the Zurich airport to the Zurich Hauptbahnhoff (train station, pronounced hopped-bon-hoff). We killed time there for a while, which included taking a walk down the Bahnhoffstrasse (or something like that) to the river, then walking around the other way. There is a piece of modern art hanging in the Hauptbahnhoff which I immediately christened the Winged Hippie (based on the statue called the Winged Victory). On our walk around Zurich we were shown the towers of the Grossmüster Cathedral, the church from which Huldrych Zwingli started the Protestant Reformation in Switzerland (in around 1523). We returned to the Hauptbahnhoff and had a little bit of time to kill before taking the 13:32 (1:32 pm) train from Zurich to Bern. In the meantime I needed to be alone, so I went into the station’s chapel and dozed. From there I was told about a waiting room which was supposed to be more comfortable. I went there and dozed a little while longer. The trip from Zurich to Bern is about an hour, and it was quite a nice little ride. We ride second class, but that’s still got plenty of room and a bathroom, so we’re all set. We arrived in Bern about 2:30 and made our way the few blocks to our hotel. We checked in, and went up to our rooms. I’m sharing a room with three other guys (Joel, who I knew about in advance, and then two other people (both animation majors) who I can’t remember their name. When Joel and I went up to the room, there were two twin beds in the room, pushed almost together, making something the size of a King. Joel and I were slightly alarmed, as we couldn’t figure out how to fit four people into one bed. Luckily, our room is a suite and there was another room with two more beds. We showered, and were back out to explore the city on our own by about 4 o’clock. Dr. Wohlers split us up into four groups, mine consists of both Laughlins, Joel, Kathy Goddard, and, once she joins us, Lisa Diller. It will be lots of fun and we’ll do lots of fun things. We started out just by walking around. We found a park, and decided to sing. Then we decided to sing in every park we encounter on this trip. We sang Be Still My Soul (which stunk, but maybe we’ll have better luck next time). We were hungry by this point, so we decided to go find something to eat. Joel had mentioned Indian food, but we couldn’t find the restaurant. Then we were going to eat Lebanese, but it wasn’t open in time. We finally decided on a place called Tibits, which is a vegetarian/vegan restaurant which was actually quite good. We were told about a funicular (like the incline railway) and so we walked a long ways to try to find it. We had been given a special card by our hotel which allows us to use the busses and trams for free. We found the funicular and rode it down, but it wasn’t very long, or breathtaking. People took it like they took a normal bus. After find and taking the funicular, we found ourselves looking for ring where they used to have bear fights. We spent about 3 hours hunting for it, in doing so we saw a lot of the city. We found our way to another park/beach/pool area and walked around for a little while. We walked by the river, which is quite calm and a beautiful green color. We walked a little further and came to a dam where we stopped to take pictures. Then it started to rain. We all crawled under a canopy where we chatted and waited for the rain to stop. From there we hiked up a hill (still looking for bears, mind you), but we didn’t find them. We did, however find the art museum. We didn’t go in, but we took a bus from that stop. Unfortunately we didn’t have a very good sense of direction (or got on the wrong train), because it was a couple more hours before we found the bears. In the meantime, however, we walked through a lot of Bern, saw flying buttresses live and in person, enjoyed clocks, fountains and chiming bells. We stopped at a chocolate shop and bought some chocolate (one which was milk chocolate with M&Ms, and one which was white chocolate raspberry). Out front of the chocolate shop were two girls (late teens or early 20s) who were playing violin (or violin/viola, I couldn’t tell) duets. It was quite nice. Finally, (and I do mean good grief) we found the bears and took lots of pictures. Then we came home and are in the process of crashing. I’m going to go brush my teeth, then get in bed. Love to all! Robby P. S. I estimate that I have walked at least 5 miles today. I need to see if I can find a pedometer. I was asked a question once to which I had no answer, and to which I still don't have a complete answer. The question was, "Why do you musick?" which is the academic way of asking "Why do you make music?" As a musician--and someone who hopes to teach the next generation of musicians--I need to find my answer.
Recently, I was shown my answer. I had the wonderful opportunity to go to the Southeastern Division Conference of the American Choral Director's Association a few weeks ago, and heard many, many beautiful concerts and choirs. They, almost without exception, sang with technical proficiency and skill, but not always with feeling. On Sabbath morning there was one more concert, with an all sacred repertoire, so I decided to attend. It was held at a church, which already led to a more worshipful experience, but there was also feeling and meaning behind what the choirs sang. They were worshipping God through their music. They were no less skilled than the other choirs from the week, but there was added beauty in their music because it was not a performance. It was an act of worship to the Creator of music. So, why do I musick? I musick because I have a gift from God that I want to share with others. I musick because I have been given a message about God's love that I must share with the world. But most importantly, I musick because God has done so much for me, and I want to say "thank you" to Him. I want to praise His name for the rest of my life. ~~~ There is singing up in Heaven such as we have never known, Where the angels sing the praises of the Lamb upon the throne, Their sweet harps are ever tuneful, and their voices always clear, O that we might be more like them while we serve the Master here! Holy, holy, is what the angels sing, And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring; But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings, For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings. But I hear another anthem, blending voices clear and strong, “Unto Him Who hath redeemed us and hath bought us,” is the song; We have come through tribulation to this land so fair and bright, In the fountain freely flowing He hath made our garments white. Holy, holy, is what the angels sing, And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring; But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings, For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings. Then the angels stand and listen, for they cannot join the song, Like the sound of many waters, by that happy, blood washed throng, For they sing about great trials, battles fought and vict’ries won, And they praise their great Redeemer, who hath said to them, “Well done.” Holy, holy, is what the angels sing, And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring; But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings, For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings. So, although I’m not an angel, yet I know that over there I will join a blessèd chorus that the angels cannot share; I will sing about my Savior, who upon dark Calvary Freely pardoned my transgressions, died to set a sinner free. Holy, holy, is what the angels sing, And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring; But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings, For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings. I found out last night that actor Ralph Waite has passed away. He was 85 years old. I wish I would mourn for him, but I never really knew him.
By default, I found out of the death of a man I greatly admired. His name was John Walton--he was the father of seven children, a very hard worker, honest, and shrewd. He would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. And yes, I know that John Walton is not a real person. Only a character. But that doesn't make my sadness any less real. John Walton--and his parents, his wife and children--has been a neighbor to my family for three generations. Every Thursday evening--or more correctly, every evening--we felt invited into the Walton home. We got to know these television characters and it was almost as if they were our next door neighbors. Anyone who is reading this knows--or should know--that I am not lacking for a good father figure. My own dad is absolutely amazing and has helped me to grow into the man that I am today. I didn't attach myself to the Waltons out of lack of a good home life. I attached myself to them because they felt real. Anymore on television programs we have characters who are caricatures of real people, but on The Waltons we had real people. We had a grandfather who loved nature. He loved life and wanted to share those feelings with his family. He was devoted to his family and to his friends We had a grandmother who was very practical and hardworking. She wouldn't so much say that she loved you, but by her actions you would know it. She once said that all she had to give were old stories--but she really gave so much more. We had a father who worked terribly long hours to provide for his loved ones. He had a short temper at times--but he was never cruel. He was frustrated by the Depression. His skills were great, but he still struggled to make ends meet. We had a mother who worked tirelessly to keep the house in order. She cooked, cleaned, washed and ironed, helped with homework, listened to dreams and stories, helped with homework, mended socks, and so much more. But she wasn't superwoman. She was just someone dedicated to her family. And we had seven brothers and sisters. They all were special in their own way. We had the budding author, the musician, the tomboy nurse who grew to be a wonderful young lady. We had the hotheaded son who was so much like his father, the middle girl who didn't know what she wanted to do with her life, but she found her niche and was so successful. We had the tinkerer (who also provided comic relief) and we had the youngest who grew to be more like her grandfather every day. I could go on and on about these people, but I think I have said what I intended. The Walton family has been real to my family--and probably to yours--since it went on the air. They have been more than just pure entertainment. They were the ones who invited us over every week. And we got to know them and we found them to be dear friends. Goodnight, Mr. Walton. Goodnight, Grandpa and Grandma. Goodnight Ike. Goodnight, Sheriff. Goodnight Mrs. Brimmer. Goodnight, Miss Mamie and Miss Emily. For your lives the world has been a little brighter. The orchestra starts. Strings and a few winds and brass. It sounds like a great multitude is walking--almost marching. Then the choir comes in:
The men and altos sing above Philipp Nicolai's chorale tune: Wachet auf! Wachet auf! Wake up! Wake up! It's the story of the ten wise virgins from Matthew 25. They all had their lamps, but fell asleep when the Bridgroom failed to come when expected. When the Bridegroom finally did appear, only 5 of the virgins had enough oil. I write this on October 22nd, a day that will mean a lot to my Seventh-day Adventist friends and readers, but not a lot to anyone else. The short version of the story says that William Miller, a Deist turned Baptist preacher studied the Bible extensively and came to the conclusion that Jesus would return to this earth to cleanse the sanctuary (see Daniel 8:14) somewhere around 1843, finally settling on Samuel Snow's date of October 22, 1844. That day, Yom Kippur, was the fulfillment of the 2300 day prophecy. But Jesus didn't come. Later revelations showed that Jesus wasn't supposed to come that day, but instead moved on to the heavenly judgment, actively proving to the universe that God is just and that sinners who ask for his cleansing blood will receive it. Bach to Bach... We're in the middle movement now of the cantata no. 140. It's the very familiar "Sleepers Awake."
William Miller was the watchman. He said that Jesus was coming! With the best light he had, he even tried to set a date. But most importantly he shared the love of Jesus. That was his main point. He said "Jesus is coming," but also, more importantly, shared the love of Christ and the importance of having a saving relationship with him.
Adventists learned not to set dates. We learned that setting the date isn't important. It's just important to be ready, to have our lamps trimmed and burning. After the Great Disappointment, William Miller didn't give up hope! He wrote in "The Midnight Cry" on December 5, 1855 the following note, "Although I have been twice disappointed, I am not yet cast down or discouraged... I have fixed my mind upon another time, and here I mean to stand until God gives me more light--and that is Today, TODAY, and TODAY until He comes, and I see Him for whom my soul yearns." I think my favorite (or at least one of my favorite) old Advent songs is "We Know Not the Hour" (SDAH 604), especially the refrain. The women and men split several times, though only for a few notes each time. The women sing "He will come" with a dotted crunch of a full step and the men sing quarter notes in octaves "He will come." To me those quarter notes are as effective as any Baroque motor rhythm to keep the assurance of Christ's soon coming. The Adventist pionners had faith in Jesus coming, even when their hearts had been broken by his failure to appear on October 22, 1844. But their faith never wavered. "He will come" was their eternal song. The Advent movement should never have lasted. William Miller was wrong. He was wrong in 1843 and he was wrong again in 1844. All of his followers should have given up and lost their faith. So why didn't they?
The only reason I can give is that they felt God's leading. Even though their hearts kept being broken, they knew that He was leading them. The Adventist church has a mission: to spread the Gospel of Jesus Christ, His Heavenly Ministry and His Soon Return. But we weren't given a mission without something to strengthen us. We were given a rich history of God's care and leading. About a week ago I had the chance to present an Evensong program at the Collegedale SDA church. We closed the Sabbath by reviewing some of the ways that the Holy Spirit has led our church. We didn't just hear stories, though. We sang. Music is a language unto itself. It can say what a sermon simply can't. So we sang. And the congregation sang. One thing I dislike is how we don't encourage everyone to open their hymnals. But I made them. And they sang. Well. We have a past, we have hope and a future! No matter how bad our life may (and will) get, we have proof from our history that God cares and that he will provide for us. Always! I had the chance to go up to the sites of our Adventist heritage this past weekend and kept a journal. I'll share portions of it in the next few days. As I wrote this post I am sitting in Brock Hall, watching a CBC production of Shakespeare's comedy The Taming of The Shrew. It's really quite funny, but I'm having a problem. I'm just sitting here!
I don't do very well at just sitting. It's the Bolton in me that keeps me from just sitting still. All the Boltons that I know (or know about) never were good at sitting. Part of my issue is that I've got a lot of things to do today. I went to work this morning (and managed to accomplish little) and am now feeling cooped up when I have homework that needs to be done. I need to read for Christian Beliefs, send the final for program for Evensong, make my final edits for the program, write several scripts, and many other things. Dr. French (my Developmental Psychology teacher) was reading to us from Don't Sweat the Small Stuff and he read something that took away a lot of joy. He said that there will always be something on our to-do lists. There will always be something that needs to be done. [I need to pause because I thought of something I need to add to my to-do list] One wouldn't think that it would be too hard to cross things off a to-do list. The majority of things would take but minutes. Of course some would take hours, but it shouldn't be that hard to accomplish things from my list. Am I just a procrastinator? Am I just too busy? I don't think I do that much extra. Just worship committee and teaching computers. That's not unreasonable. I don't dare ask for an extra hour in the day. I would end up with that filled, too! But I don't think I'd be the only one to fill it! In all honesty, the last two days stunk! The short version of the story (that doesn't give away information you don't need) is that I got in some minor trouble for something that shouldn't be an issue at all. And I was mad! I was livid! I was trying to vent out my anger, and my poor old piano could barely take it! I was playing out of my favorite spread in the hymnal--nos. 509 and 510. I started with 510, which is probably my favorite minor-key German chorale, "If You But Trust in God to Guide You" (Wer nur den lieben Gott lasst walten). This is just fiery enough that I was hoping that it would help me vent some of the annoyance that I was feeling. Then I turned to 509, "How Firm a Foundation," which has two of my favorite verses in all hymnody: When thro' the deep waters I call thee to go, Then I remembered that Emily said that the words to How Firm a Foundation worked really well to Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise (ST. DENIO). So I turned to no. 21 in my hymnal and began to play, trying to sing: The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose, And is still didn't help. I was still angry. I was still wanting vindication! That was Thursday. Friday was no better, in fact it was probably even more frustrating: I got into more of the same trouble about the thing that I didn't talk about, I had to work longer hours that I wanted and I was frankly tired and frustrated. I often start singing Choir music when I'm at home, and oftentimes I don't notice what I'm doing. But I did yesterday. I started singing Felix Mendelssohn's German setting of Psalm 43, "Richte mich, Gott."
And that shut me up. I had been yelling so all could hear, "Vindicate me, O God!" and I was ignoring the Holy Spirit telling me, "Hope in God!" Another translation says, "Wait for God!" The Holy Spirit had to splash me with cold water in order for me to shut up long enough to hear what I needed to hear. I needed to hear that God will work it out, I just need to give it to him to fix! Take it, Father. It's yours. I don't want it anymore.
And that's how I was shut up by Mendelssohn and Psalm 43. Scripture taken from the New King James Version (c) 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved. |
AuthorI'm a Classical musician, a growing Christian, and a world traveler. I'm learning, exploring, and trying to understand this wonderful world I live in. Archives
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