Sunday, December 10, 2006

A Medieval Christmas Tonic



New York

I met friends today for a Christmas concert at the Cloisters--held just beyond the Tuscan cathedral arch above. The medieval-style museum, part of the Metropolitan, is nestled high above the Hudson, and it houses some of the most superb tapestries and other medieval art in the world. Even the courtyard, bounded on four sides by columns, is exquisite--and glassed in for the winter so that you can still walk the cloister corridors in the manner of the medieval religious who would pray while walking during the several calls to prayer ( Lauds, Matins, etc. ) during their monastic day.

I think I must have been a monk or, more likely, an abbess, of some Tuscan cloister. Because whether its here or northern Spain or Cluny in Paris, I feel especially connected to the beauty, the idea of working toward wholeness that is the earmark of spirituality, and the simplicity, albeit harsh, of the monastic way of life. Women like Hildegard of Bengin, Teresa of Avila, Theresa Liseaux, were all devoted to live in community, live often in silence, and obedience. Notions that aren't exactly part of our culture.

The concert, performed by the Baltimore Consort, was superb featuring 12th through 17th century hymns and songs about Christ's birth. The acoustics in the brought-to-America-by-the-Rockefellers chapel were pristine; the long, narrow, foot deep windows were typical, as was the apse--of what I remember on my pilgrimage to Santiago in northern Spain a few years ago.

Laughing with Charles and Billy always cheers me up. But today that was especially important to me since it has been a difficult week on every level. Billy paternally scolded me for not getting enought rest. " You're going to relapse if you aren't careful." Charles, heading for the men's room, my arm linked with his, said playfully: " I think we have to part here..."

After the concert, I thanked Billy for the great Christmas gift, and hopped on the M4 bus that goes from Fort Tryon Park, somewhere around 190th, all the way back down to midtown Manhattan. The ride was long but lovely. The Hudson looked its usual brown but it has a charm all its own--maybe its the swift current, I don't know.

The sun was angling down, just that golden of sunset. I passed the Union Theological Seminary where I did some postgrad work a couple of years ago, then my beloved Cathedral of St. John the Devine. I used to take my kids there when they were younger to the Winter Solstice concert in December, always got tickets early so they could sit right in front-- which they seemed to love. I hope some day I'll be able to take my grandchildren there--and to the tree at the Metropolitan. That's one of the lovely things about creating and passing along tradition to children ( often you don't know you're creating them ) and grandchildren( you know what their value is and hope their parents, your children, share your passion), to keep memories alive, to create moments that cannot be erased by distance or differences or advancing age.

So, to my disappointments ( I'll spare you the details ) I will add another Christmas moment--the connection with dear, mature friends, the beauty of the accapella singing, lutes, flutes and fiddles.

The moments, thus far, are keeping up with the disappointments. I'm feeling pretty lucky.

M.C.

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