30 December 2012

Organ Preludes & Postludes through Laetare

5 January (Installation of Fr R.):
J.S. Bach: Prelude and Fugue in G Major, BWV 541
Jean Langlais: Pasticcio, Op. 91, No. 10
6 January (Epiphany):
Johann Pachelbel: Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, P.46
Louis Vierne: Carillon, Op. 31, No. 21
13 January (Epiphany I, Baptism of the Lord):
Anonymous (from the Lüneburg Tablature): Christ unser Herr zum Jordan kam
Gerald Near: Omnes qui in Christo
20 January (Epiphany II):
Niels Gade: Allegretto, Op. 22, No. 2
Gustav Adolf Merkel: Allegretto, Op. 102, No. 1
27 January (Epiphany III; Septuagesima):
Marcel Dupré: Invention, Op. 50, No. 2
Alexandre-Pierre-François Boëly: Fughetta in D minor
2 February (Candlemas):
Marcel Dupré: Élévation (Très modéré), Op. 32, No. 2
Marcel Dupré: Herr Gott, nun schleuss den Himmel auf, Op. 28, No. 31
3 February (Epiphany IV; Sexagesima):
Charles Villiers Stanford: Prelude in Form of a Minuet, Op. 88, No. 1
Max Reger: Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier, Op. 138a, No. 14
10 February (Transfiguration; Quinquagesima):
Paul Hindemith: Sonata No. 2 - I. Lebhaft
Friedrich Wilhelm Zachau: Herr Jesu Christ, wahr Mensch und Gott, LV 32
13 February (Ash Wednesday):
Jeanne Demessieux: Attende Domine, Op. 8, No. 3
Gottfried August Homilius: Erbarm dich mein, o Herre Gott
17 February (Lent I, Invocavit):
J.S. Bach: Christus, der uns selig macht, BWV 747
J.S. Bach: Wer nur den lieben Gott läßt walten, BWV 690
24 February (Lent II, Reminiscere):
J.S. Bach: Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, BWV 639
Friedrich Wilhelm Zachau: Ach Gott vom Himmel sieh darein, LV 16
3 March (Lent III, Oculi):
J.S. Bach: O Mensch, bewein dein Sünde groß, BWV 622
Michael Praetorius: Sinfonia
10 March (Lent IV, Laetare):
J.S. Bach: Jesu, meine Freude, BWV 610
Max Reger: Mit Fried und Freud ich fahr dahin, Op. 79b, No. 5

26 December 2012

St. Stephen's Day

Per multas tribulationes oportet nos intrare in regnum Dei.
Actus Apostolorum 14:21

The life of a church musician being unmitigated misery and self-loathing in the days leading up to Christmas, it really is quite a relief when the last note of music ceases to resound after the last Mass of Christmas Day. (Honesty compels me to admit that I exaggerate, slightly. But this year I anticipated Christmas Eve as the sinner anticipates the Day of Judgement: waiting to be consigned to the eternal fire, to eat nought but burning-hot coals and drink nought but burning-hot cola. I must somehow learn not to worry on behalf of other musicians, or I shall have to find some other vocation.)

Ah, but now, now it is Christmas, at least until Twelfth Night. (I have plans for Epiphany, as the Bishop is visiting, but preparing solo organ music inspires me with comparatively little dread.) And today is Boxing Day, or the Feast of St. Stephen the Protomartyr, if you prefer. Diplomacy was not Stephen's forte, to be certain. It takes a certain foolhardiness, or perhaps blissful unawareness, to, when facing a crowd quite ready to stone you, address them thusly:
Ye stiffnecked and uncircumcised in heart and ears, ye do always resist the Holy Ghost: as your fathers did, so do ye. Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted? and they have slain them which shewed before of the coming of the Just One; of whom ye have been now the betrayers and murderers: who have received the law by the disposition of angels, and have not kept it.
It is curious that Christians should so honor a man who pretty clearly brought his martyrdom upon himself. There must be a line, somewhere, between willingness to profess one's faith and eagerness for martyrdom. Perhaps that is the same line I must learn to draw between doing one's job and suffering for one's job. Hmm.

In any case, permit me to wish you, dear reader, "a wonderful Christmastime" (as Paul McCartney so catchily and irritatingly put it).

11 December 2012

Inward Digestion

Yesterday a phrase was running through my head: "to read, mark, and inwardly digest". I recognized that it is a perfectly Cranmerian phrase, but knew not where I had last heard or read it. A cursory search reveals that it comes from the collect for Advent II:
BLESSED lord, which hast caused all holy Scriptures to bee written for our learnyng; graunte us that we maye in suche wise heare them, read, marke, learne, and inwardly digeste them; that by pacience, and coumfort of thy holy woorde, we may embrace, and ever holde fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast geven us in our saviour Jesus Christe.
Now, that's all well and good, but, regrettably, I had not heard this collect in either of my churches this past Sunday. (Pity the poor ELCA, which has quite obviously given up any pretensions to beautiful language in its published liturgies. The Episcopalians should know better, I think.) The Revised Common Lectionary collect for Advent II is an insipid affair:
Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
There's no comparison: Cranmer's has an immediacy, not to mention a memorable quality, that the newer one utterly lacks.

The question does arise: why should a phrase from the Advent II collect come to mind, quite without my conscious awareness of its origin, the day after the second Sunday in Advent? I can only suggest that this is one of the most important justifications for being well-read: that we should have inwardly digested meaningful turns of phrase. How can a English-speaking man claim to partake in Western Civilization without a thorough knowledge of the Authorised Version, of the Book of Common Prayer, of Shakespeare? (One might continue this litany, but the further towards the present one goes, the more contentious the listing.)

On a related point, I stumbled across (or acrost, as some are wont to say) an article on epigraphs today. It quite rightly recognizes that, in the use of epigraphs, we place ourselves in a living tradition of thought, a conversation with the quick and the dead.