Perfect Days

Since Lent began it seems I've been blessed with a number of perfect days.The day after Ash Wednesday we went to the Philadelphia Orchestra with a couple of friends from church. We shared a nice meal before hand at Ted's Montana Grille (I know it's a chain, but one of our friends has become a buffalo addict. The orchestra program was all modern composers, which normally doesn't excite me, but I was pleasantly suprised.

The guest conductor for the evening was Alan Gilbert, recently appointed music director of the New York Philharmonic. The first piece was Exquisite Corpse by Hillborg. While it wasn't something you'd walk away humming, it was extremely complex in the way different sounds were carried continuously by diffrent instruments, so that a note might start out thin and reedy on the flute, and then swell to a rich, full sound in the cellos, and then die out from the tympani.

The second piece that night was Bartok's Concerto for Two Pianos, Percussion, and Orchestra. Emmanuel Ax and Yoko Nozaki were the pianists, and Christopher Deviney and Don S. Liuzzi were the precussionists. The stage set-up was quite impressive just to get two concert Steinways and two drum set-ups in front of the rest of the orchestra. The music was engrossing as if you were overhearing an interesting conversation which was not antiphonal, in a sort of repetitious way, as much as responsive to the preceding passage and developing the idea further. It had really "big" orchestral passages, and incredibly soft piano responses.

The final work of the evening was a composer I was not familiar with, Carl Nielsen, his Symphony No. 2, Op. 16 ("The Four Temperments") It wound up being the highlight of the evening. The audience was most responsive in their applause.

As a postlude, Emmanuel Ax and David Kim, concertmaster for the orchestra, after inviting the remaining audience to come sit closer, performed (a Beethoven sonatta.)

A few nights later on Monday evening, after dinner at the Westbury Bar, we were back at the Kimmel Center for the Curtis Symphony. This much younger group of performers were also being conducted by Alan Gilbert, who is a Curtis graduate. What a difference in the dynamic between the players and conductor. Here, they really led/performed as one organic whole. The difference was amazing. We have subscribed to both orchestras for a number of years- the Curtis that night was one of the best performances I can remember hearing. The program was Barber's Overture to The School for Scandal, Op.5; Beethoven's String Quartet No. 11 in F minor, Op.95 ("Quartetto serioso"); and another Nielsen work, his Symphony No. 3 in D minor, Op. 27 (Sinfonia espansiva)

All of the music was exquisite!

On Wednesday we had tickets to the new opera, Cyrano, by the Opera Company of Philadelphia. We had planned on dinner at the Rendevous bar across the street from the Academy of Music, as it was a pretty raw night and we didn't feel like walking far. We noticed that the resturant next to the Academy, which had been vacant at least a year since one of our favorite places, "The Smoked Joint," had closed.This was a new Japanese place called Kaizan, which had an interesting menu, so we deecided to take a chance.(it was a little pricier than the places we usually go to)

What a great decision we made! The new interior is very tasteful,all black and white with shocks of small, red, narrow hanging light fixtures. The harsh bare concrete surfaces of the old construction have been softened by hangings of Japanese silks. The mood was very relaxing. the service was perfect. We shared some tuna Maki. I ordered a couple of "small" plates, one a scallop tartare, was lots of bay scallops with kiwi in a light marinade, while the other was called "Volcanic Mountain" and was a mixture of lobster, shrimp, and rice wrapped into a cone in a wanton wrapper, and then crisped in the fryer. It was incredibly good, though difficult to discect until I asked for a fork. I refused to actually pu the fork in my mouth, I just used it to break the food into manageablepieces. I must practice more with chopsticks before returning.

Gary oredered a Spicy Chirashi, which was a mound of rice with raw tuna and scallops. Not as elaborate as my Volcano, but just as tasty. We each had a Lobster Dobinmushi, the most delicious soup you could imagine on a cold night such as it was. The soup was a wonderful clear broth, which was made with some type of smoked meat (imagine bacon broth, with no fat) and lobster meat with daicon mushroom. It was served in individual pots, with a small cup. We drank the broth from the cups, two swallows at a time, until it was gone, and then, removing the lids, used our chopsticks to eat the lobster and mushrooms remaining inside (I was very adept by then with my utensils-lobster is a great motivator)

After this wonderful dinner, we walked next door to the Academy of Music. As we entered the lobby for the elevator to the Ampitheater (or "Heaven" as it's called by the old-timers, because it's so far up) a woman asked to see our tickets. When she saw that we were subscribers, she offered some other seats whose subscribers were unable to attend, although, she said, not everyone would enjoy them, as they were in the front row.

So we were able to see this new opera from up close and personal, everything from the beautiful sets and even more beautiful costumes, and hear the voices and feel the music of the orchestra in a way we ususally don't get to experience at the Academy of Music. To make the evening even better, our seat mates were neighbors so we got to catch up during intermission with all the things happening in their lives (new jobs, new grandchildren, etc).

It's hard to believe we experinced all of these incredible blessings of friends, music, and food, in the course of little under a week. So many people have nothing in the way of these experinces compared to use. I know that many people wouldn't even begin to enjoy much of the music, or food, which we do. I guess that our ability to enjoy them is another blessing.

The next day (after the opera) was Valentines Day. I claimed dinner and the opera as my gift to him. Gary made a new stained glass window as agift for me. (He just threw it together over a few days) It remainders of glass from a variety of other projects, but in the center is an etched medallion, with our initials "F &G" There are probably not too many guys whose boyfriend makes them a stained glass window as a valentines gift. Chalk that up as another blessing.

Comfort Zones

Lent is really early this year. One of the things I've added to my Lenten discipline in years past was to use the time while coffee brewed in the morning to do some excercise. Earlier this week, overnight temperatures were low,and the early morning skies were overcast. Each morning I would lie in bed under the covers telling myself I'd start the coffee and then go work out. Then I would think about how comfortable it was under the covers, and how it couldn't be that late, yet, because it was still dark. The urge to stay comfortable would win out, and I'd drift back to sleep for a while longer.

How often do we choose to stay where we're comfortable? How much easier are things when we don't allow ourselves to be challenged? Why should we even consider something which might make ourselves uncomfortable?

In my case, getting out of bed and excersising is for my own good. It would improve my over-all health and outlook. The shock of the colder morning air would help me to wake up faster. I'd add time to my morning which could be well spent writing, reading, or at the park with the dogs.

Last spring we had a guest preacher when the Gospel text was the story of the Prodigal Son. As she was reading the Gospel, I was struck by the phrase describing the moment when the son finally comes to terms with his situation: "But when he came to himself, he said..." (Luke 15:17) Somehow, whenever I've heard that phrase before, I've always run a visual clip in my mind of someone shaking off whatever it was which was weighing on them, sort of like our dogs after a walk in the rain. A couple of vigourous shakes and the original fluffy self is re-revealed, perhaps somewhat damper, but hopefully feeling cleaner and refreshed.

But as those words were released from her lips, I envisioned a person having an out-of-body experience, walking along a path and then suddenly confronted with themselves, from the perspective of another. After observing themself and their struggle with their burden, I saw them come to terms with what they needed to do, reconciling their self, and then suddenly merge back into one person.

I don't think that we can always have this out of body revelation on our own. I think that sometimes God sees our need to be uncomfortable in order to change. It's then up to us to notice these gifts and choose to receive them or reject them.

A woman in our congregation has cerebal palsy so bad that she can no longer move from one position to another without the assitance of an aide. When she was born, her doctor told her parents she would not survive more than 50 days. Now, over 50 years later, she has retired from her job as an advocate for the disabled. After completing college, she found her own apartment and has lived on her own. She tells great stories of going to rallies in the 70's to protest the lack of accomodations for the physically challenged. She was arrested at least once, confounding the police who could not figure out how to jail her in her wheelchair. Thanks to her and many others like her, America now has the Americans with Disabilities Act. They were able to envision a life which would be better for many, which needed them to move out of their comfort zones to make a better future. This woman who I admire so greatly, treats each new challenge in her life as a gift from God, and turns them into gifts to others.

That's what we were invited to do as a congregation that afternoon. We explored our joys and fears, our self-image, and our reputation among others. Feelings were laid bare over a 4 hour journey, which finally brought us to ourselves.

And so as part of my journey this Lent, I'm going to try to get out of bed earlier, and be more honest with myself about what I need to do each day. It may be that I need to remind myself that I need to be kinder, or firmer, or less critical and more open to being uncomfortable. I pray God will help me.

Ash Wednesday

During Lent, many Christians decide to give up some thing which gives them pleasure (In the old days, it was always sex, for one). The idea is, that when you find yourself yearning for that Twixt Bar, of Diet Pepsi, or glass of Chardonnay, that you might focus instead on your relationship with God. I started this blog last year, inspired by Meghan Rohrer, who each Lent gives up her security of home, job, and security to live among the homeless of San Francisco.

I am not so brave.

One thing I've learned though, from reading Meghan's blog, is that rather than giving something up, she adds something to her life through this experience. She adds a knowledge and understanding of people who are not herself to her experience.

I've been having a difficult time praying lately. It’s been difficult to remain focused. I find myself beginning a conversation with God, and too quickly other concerns overtake the conversation, and my original path of prayer seems to spiral away into a black hole. I've tried using some centering exercises, and really only had success if I'm at work in the sanctuary alone, where the rest of the world fades away, even though urban reality is just on the other side of the stained glass wall.

Sunday morning, before getting out of bed, I had an epiphany. I know that by nature I am conflict adverse. I'll do anything to avoid engaging in a confrontation (yeah, I know, all my friends are thinking how that doesn't keep me from being highly opinionated.) What I realized that morning was that I had some issues with God, and while I wasn't avoiding them entirely (I was praying that God would heal people in my life who are suffering, especially my brother, who is being treated for a brain tumor) I know I wasn't being honest with God about how I felt about these things.

I've been really frustrated by several things, which affect my relationships with other people. While I believe that God knows my frustration, we haven't really had any conversations about it.

That morning I realized how angry I was with God, and pinned my prayer problems on that anger. Reflecting on the situation a little further, I realized that the real problem was my own fault for not being honest about my feelings, that, just like any relationship, disagreement is healthy when it leads to new understandings.

So, what this rambling leads to, is that the thing I want to add to my Lenten journey, is to live with God in an honest relationship: to share my feelings and not just my needs, and more importantly to be open to listening for God's answers, in all the forms they take, through the gifts and the challenges which God places in my life, and to search for understanding of my own existence as well as my relationship with God, and the rest of God's creation.