Wednesday, September 11, 2024

native genius

 10 sept 24

A funny thing happened on my way to the Eremo… I actually drove here because there was a Peugeot in Rome that needed to be moved back to the monastery. I was not at all looking forward to driving through Rome but was somewhat assured by the trusty GPS. (I’ve been using an Italian voice for the past few months in America to get me used to the language, but ironically I switched it to an American one here in Italy so as to be extra sure I wouldn’t get lost.) But I inadvertently had it set to “avoid tolls,” so it directed me not up the A1 freeway, which is pretty much a straight line from Rome to Arezzo, but by a bunch of backroads, the SS2 and the SS71 if I recall correctly. It took me about halfway up to realize what I had done wrong, but I was none the worse for the wear. It actually a beautiful drive through the Umbrian countryside, passed little towns and fields of dead sunflowers all still bowing their faded crowns in the same direction. 

At one point the road was very windy and as I came around a curve there was Orvieto looming to my right up on a hill in all its splendor. If the road had actually gone through Orvieto I might have stopped––I love that city––but it did not. I wanted to go to a little restaurant just north of there in a little town called Fabo that Alessandro had taken me to once, but alas, by the time I got there it was way too late. They were closed after pranzo until they open for cena at 19:00. So, I happily enjoyed a nice stop at a BAR Snack (sic), ate a panino, some croccanti, an aranciata and a café normale

I was pleased that the woman behind the counter did not speak to me in English, that she understood me, and I understood her without hesitation. Axel and I went to Bibbiena yesterday to run some errands and I noted to him the same thing toward the end of our errands from every place we had been. I take that as a good sign. Every time I come, I have to re-learn a bunch of things, but I suppose I am building on a better base each time too. 

By now I am feeling pretty good about the language, though I am working at improving it every day. That has been my biggest concern (“worry” is too strong a word) about living here semi-permanently. I really would like to be much more comfortable in most every situation. I am going to be going and coming three times between now and January but it’s never a waste to exercise that part of my brain. I’ve taken to my old exercise of walking with my phone on which is my Oxford Italian dictionary app. I listen to Italian podcasts (from Australia, of course) on my way out and make up conversations on my way back using the list of recent words. “It’s good and good for you!”

The community here at the Sacro Eremo has been very welcoming, and I feel right at home. As soon as I left the confines of Rome itself and drove into the countryside, I began to feel a wave of relief, and a love for Italy rose in me again. The weather of course has been extremely different from the forno of Rome, even downright cold, or at least cool, at times. And there is quite a crowd here now. My friend Axel is here. He has transferred to Germany from Camaldoli but is back here for a month giving yoga retreats. Prabhu from Shantivanam is here, as is Donbosco from Tanzania, who I didn’t really know at all. Also simply professed Niccolò is here during summer academic break. So, with most of the usual guys and a few claustral guests there is a pretty full choir. 

As much as I loathe the rococo style, there is something about this chapel that retains its simple elegance. And of course, there is something about the very stones that make up these cells that give me a sense of solidity and timelessness. I have never stayed in this particular cell before, San Carlo. It’s smaller and very simple and I am quite settled in here. Especially Sunday afternoon I felt as if I could have been back in Big Sur. They have modified their schedule in two ways that they credit to adopting the ways of Big Sur. Not only do they have a Desert Day every Monday (that was already in place when I was here for the Visitation and Chapter), now the evening meal is taken on your own. Monks take turns serving to the guests in the evening and cleaning up from that. 

It was kind of funny. There was still breakfast (colazione) served on Monday’s Desert Day for those wanted it, as well as lunch. When I came down the woman oblate named Rosanna was there putting things out. I asked her in a whisper if we observed silence on desert days, she nodded “Si” solemnly. And so, we did. Until other monks came in and started chatting. I asked Alberto, the vice-prior, if we observed silence and he just shrugged his shoulders and made some ambiguous gesture with his hands as if to say, “If you want to be silent, be silent!” Also as much as I approved of the evening per conto suo, I was “worried,” shall we say, that that meant no Pizza Night on Saturday. (My buddy Zeno here always refers to it to me in English––Pizza Night!) I cryptically asked him at lunch on Friday if we didn’t have a common meal every night and he said, with that same gesture as Alberto’s, “Tranne sabato. È Pizza Night!”

So, perhaps if you’re reading this you have also followed the news announced on Facebook (and maybe the NY Times and the Osservatore Romano) that my guitar was finally delivered to San Gregorio Thursday afternoon––after being missing for five days! The thing I know is that every hour that ticks away when luggage has gone missing, the less change you are going to have of speaking to a human being. So there was a great sense of relief, as you might guess. I asked Mario to send me photos just to bring some closure, and he did. I have been advised to get some Apple tags for my bags now, which I fully intent to do when I get back to Rome. I’m also going to try as hard as possible, even if I have to pay a little more, to always get a direct flight (how much would I pay for a separate ticket anway?), though it didn’t help this time, and try to always gate check it instead. I wrestled over and over whether to bring it in the soft case-gig bag, which I can always get on board, or the heavy duty Calton travel case, which I rarely travel with anymore. And wouldn’t you know? The first time I travel with the travel case…

I’ve been picking away at some work. I am giving a music workshop in Germany along with a concert. For the last three years I was planning on perhaps transferring here to Italy anyway––if don Alessandro had been re-confirmed, he wanted me to both serve on his General Council and he really wanted me go back to my work in music. He’s a big fan. I was happy for that but kept adding when I spoke to him about it, “and also the work in dialogue.” Now that I am transferring here to do work in dialogue, I also want to make sure that there is enough time for music, even the music that has nothing to do with interreligious dialogue. (And some of my friends keep urging that, sternly, as well.) As it turns out, four out of the five events I have coming up all include a concert, and I am using the same program for all five, which does concentrate on the “world music.” But there is the other: the amazing unclassifiable work I do with John Pennington, and then straight-ahead liturgical music. 

To be fair, there is very little straight-ahead about my approach to liturgical music either. The workshop I am preparing is actually the revisiting of an old one called “That A Popular Chant May Emerge: A Workshop on Essentially Vocal Music.” And if I have a unique voice in liturgical music it is this. I also realized as I am preparing it, that the same sensibility that underlies my work in dialogue underlies my approach to music, as a matter of fact the approach to music predates it. I am quoting Sacrosanctum Concilium saying that

In certain countries, especially in mission lands, there are people who have their own musical tradition, and this plays a great part in their religious and social life. For this reason, their music should be held in proper esteem and a suitable place is to be given to it, not only in forming their religious sense but also in adapting worship to their native genius...[1]

I didn’t realize that I had borrowed the phrase “native genius” from SC when I speak about the “native genius of the Indian spiritual tradition.” Also quoting the famous aphorism of St. Thomas Aquinas, firmly affirmed by Pope St. John Paul II: Gratia non tollit naturam sed perfecit––“Grace does not destroy nature but perfects it.” Whatever is already good (like the music of the pre-Christian culture) there is to be recognized, encouraged and promoted as the document on relations with Non-Christians of Vatican II puts it. And it was fun to remember then-Cardinal Ratzinger’s phrase that I loved so much: that we need to listen to what’s going on in “the antechambers” of the liturgy. That was actually the inspiration for my collection “The Message Goes Forth.” My original idea for the album cover was a photo of me sitting on the entrance steps of Holy Name Cathedral in downtown Chicago. We’ll see how it plays in Hamburg.

Before I go to Hamburg I am going to Poland, and it is the first time that I am running into the issue of language. In Poland, my host, the wonderfully gifted photographer Andrzej, has guided me (to say the least! He is very thorough and knows just what he wants from me) through my preparations. I have sent him the very detailed outlines of my talks, on Fr. Bede, and he is translating them into Polish. I will give the whole conference in English and then he will read a translation of the whole thing in Polish, for each of the three conferences. I suppose if you don’t have the luxury of the mechanism to do instant translation there is not much other way except translating every sentence as I speak. We have both put a lot of work into these conferences and I must say what he has specified and asked me to amend has made the conferences better than they were. 

In Hamburg, where probably more people speak and/or understand English, my host Petra (the German sociologist with whom I have done and will do some other work) and I have agreed to run my talk through a translation program and hand out copies of the outline in German, so that they can read along in their language while I deliver in mine. Of course, in that case the talk will be broken up often with singing. And in both cases I am doing a concert. I did put together a libretto with the lyrics for them to translate into Polish and German respectively, but both hosts have decided that instead of translating my remarks live they are going to put the translated lyrics and remarks in a booklet to hand out. So, we shall see! (I’ve been saying that a lot lately…)  I must say, I enjoy the challenge of all these things. And luckily, as I have pointed out, I feel that both of these events, as well as the other things I have coming up for the rest of the year, fold in nicely and easily with my upcoming work for DIMMID.

One last note: it seems, for complicated reasons, that there is not a possibility of me staying either at San Gregorio or with the nuns at Sant’Antonio. My other option was staying at Sant’Anselmo itself, the beautiful Benedictine atheneum on the Aventine that house both the international school and the seat of the Abbot Primate (my future boss). I had mentioned to my predecessor Fr. William, that I was going ask for housing there. Well, he beat me to the punch. When he got there he checked with the rector right way, and I found out yesterday that I can indeed. That is a not a 100% confirmation, but it’s pretty darned close. I’ll know for sure next week when we go down to Rome together, but it looks like I won’t be homeless after all.



[1]Sacrosanctum Concilium, #119.

Thursday, September 5, 2024

not the same river, not the same person

 5 september, 2024

 

I am sitting in my room at the monastery of San Gregorio Magno in Rome, waiting for my guitar to be delivered from the airport. I got here Sunday; the Collings, alas, did not leave San Francisco until Monday. We know that it is now somewhere here in Rome. The courier sent us a message Tuesday night saying that it would be delivered by mezzogiorno yesterday. It is now 10 AM today. If it doesn’t get here by noon, I will head to Camaldoli anyway.

 

So, yes, I arrived Sunday to a sweltering hot Rome, in the 90s, no breeze, humid. Wow. I’ve had a wonderful room here, a double space, really, a small outer room with a desk and an inner room with a bed and bathroom. Long sheer drapes hanging from the windows, which I just love. Obviously have had the windows open the whole time and the drapes provide enough privacy. The jet lag hasn’t been too bad and I think I’ve overcome it already. Besides chasing down the guitar––and at one point I had very little hope that I would ever see it again and was already shopping online to see how much ITA airlines would have to reimburse me to replace a Collings C10 and a Calton case…easy $6,000––including two trips to the airport to catch the next day’s incoming flight (obviously to no avail), I’ve had a lot of desk work to do and this has been a good place to do it. 


The main thing was re-writing three conferences that I had prepared for an event I am doing in Poland at the end of this month. I have always had a pretty good inner clock for deadlines, a sense of how long it’s going to take to do something without having to cram and rush at the last minute, and I had all the preparation for the next work laid out in my mind. I sent the three conferences off to my host in Poland to start the translations before I flew out Sunday. (I am going to present the whole conference in English and then he will re-present the whole thing in Polish.) They are adaptations of old conferences and I was so proud of the work I had done on them to improve them. But he thought they were, in a word, a little too scholarly for the group that was going to be gathering and maybe even beyond his ability to translate easily into Polish. So he advised me pretty much how I should revise them. It was kind of disconcerting; never had anyone ever before asked me to re-write something I was about to present (of course never before had I had to send my talks in advance to be translated), and not only exactly what I should talk about but pretty much even how I should say it! After massaging my wounded ego a little, I set about on a whole new set of conferences, with which he is pleased. And I must say they are good and hopefully also useful for future use. But I wasn’t expecting to be working this hard my first days in Italy!

 

Aside from the missing guitar and the revision of my conferences, the other unsettling thing about these first days is that I still don’t know where I am going to be living. I had asked Fr. George, vice-prior of San Gregorio, and Sr. Michela, guest master at Sant’Antonio, in advance if it was possible to stay long term either here with the monks or across the Circo Massimo with the nuns, but had only gotten a vague answer from George and no response from Michela. Well, we were at Sant’Antonio for Madre Michela’s 70th birthday party the other day and Michelina pulled me off to the side and apologetically explained to me that they have never hosted a man long term as a guest before, so no. The next day I sat down with George and asked him directly. I am going to be coming in and out of Rome three times in the next few months and also want to leave some stuff behind, since I brought enough things for the long term that I don’t need to cart around on my back. In short, there is a room for me for the first two times I am coming through, maybe the third time, but probably no room for me after January. The reason is there is construction going on here which will cut off access to an entire section of the building, so all the students will need to live in one section. They are not even accepting their other long-term boarders this year, which is very unusual. So that's a drag. 


My next option will be to find out if I can live at Sant’Anselmo. That’s of course the Benedictine University where my boss, the Abbot Primate, lives, and since I am going to be working for the Confederation… If that doesn’t work I am told that the Cistercians also take in boarders, but of course there will be a cost to that.

 

It's an unusual feeling! I just want a little room somewhere to put my “stuff,” a place I can come home to, a place where I can pray and work. (“Is it too much to ask for a room with a view?!”) No doubt something will work out and I’m trying to sink into the poverty of it and enjoy it. At 66 years old I feel more than ever like a wandering mendicant. 

 

So I head to the Sacro Eremo today. God-willing I will be recording some music with the Coro Camaldolese on Saturday for the legendary Christmas album. These are the guys I sang with for the Synod last year. I had great plans originally––including filming and posting videos from Camaldoli (my portable camera is also in my guitar case)––but I have trimmed my hopes down to recording two chants acapella, and maybe the three-part harmony for “Lo How A Rose Ere Blooming.” Then really solid down time until next weekend when my predecessor at DIM-MID, Fr. William Skudlarek, is coming up to Camaldoli to spend the weekend. (He actually video called me via WhatsApp yesterday evening just to check in while I was sitting in the piazza in front of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, which was sweet and fun.) We will do some more transition stuff and long-term planning there, and then come back down to Rome together Monday September 16. The next day he is taking me to meet the Secretary of the Dicastery for Interreligious Dialogue for lunch, and then day after that he will deliver his report to the Congress of Abbots and introduce me as his successor, after which I will give a five-minute self-introduction. Then the next day off to Poland to begin this next leg of ministry.

 

I am really glad that I finally broke down my resistance to Rome last time I was here. I’ve gotten lots of exercise walking the streets––and sweating!––up to six miles a day. I especially love the area, heavily touristed now, around the Trevi Fountain and Piazza Navona, the Gregorianum and the Biblicum. But I am going to be happy to be on the rocky trails in the moody forest of Camaldoli again and covered by the blanket of silence at the Sacro Eremo. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine that we are all, Romani and Casentinesiani, from the same congregation.

 

It all feels very familiar and yet very new at the same time. I thought it was a Taoist aphorism, but I found out it actually comes from Heraclitus: “No one steps in the same river twice. For it is not the same river, and you are not the same person.” Sia Ganga che Tevere! Either the Ganges or the Tiber!