Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts

Thursday, May 24, 2018

A letter from the Dean: Our Music MInistry

Dear St. Paul´s family,

Our Pentecost celebration last Sunday was joyful and Spirit-filled. I had the blessing of attending all four services and experiencing the wide variety of gifts and cultures that we enjoy here in San Diego. We heard the Acts reading in many different languages, we experienced a graceful dance, we sang great hymns and enjoyed splendid organ music; at the 1:00 service we celebrated Baptism and First Communion with Mariachi accompaniment; and at the 5:00 service we joined with our Sudanese brothers and sisters in traditional songs in Arabic and Swahili, blending with the more usual Anglican offerings. Truly a Pentecostal celebration!

Our musical tradition goes deep into our history as Anglican Christians, and music speaks to the heart in ways that words alone cannot. People of faith have always sung the praises of God, as we see in the Psalms. Personally, I love to sing and to be in the midst of great music, and it is music that brought me back to the church when I strayed. God speaks to us through music.

Music is central to our worship life, as you know. Our girl and boy choristers are legendary in this city; our organ is one of the best in the country; our Choral Evensong is a gem treasured by many, including clergy of other denominations. A music program as extensive as ours normally has a whole team of staff and volunteers, but at St. Paul´s, somehow Martin Green and Gabriel Arregui produce fantastic results with other committed musicians, both professional and amateur, and minimal financial and support staff resources. I am grateful for those who volunteer significant time to sort sheet music.

Our Friends of Cathedral Music are those members of the community who make special gifts from time to time to support the music ministry. Designated gifts are placed in a special fund which is used for special occasions or, when the need is acute (as it is this year), to support the general operating expenses of the music program. We are developing a brochure to communicate different ways in which you can support our music ministry. A new music endowment is in its infancy, and you can make a contribution towards the cost of commissioning special music for our sesquicentennial celebration next year. Another current effort is the fund to rebuild our Steinway grand piano, so that we can host professional recitals in appropriate style. You may be shocked to learn that it costs up to $25,000 to rebuild a Steinway.

On Sunday June 3 our choirs will present their annual Spring Benefit Concert, featuring the beloved Requiem by Gabriel Fauré, accompanied by professional instrumentalists from around the area. I hope you will come to Evensong and stay for this short concert: I guarantee that your soul will be fed!

Donations in appreciation will be added to the Friends of Cathedral Music fund, which is in need of replenishment, but you can also mark donations for Piano Restoration, Sesquicentennial, or Music Endowment (we need $40,000 more to make the endowment active at $100,000, but our ultimate goal is $1m). You can make a gift either online or via check at any time for any of these funds. Each one will further our mission and enrich the ministry we offer the community.

St. Augustine said that those who sing, pray twice. I give thanks for all the opportunities we have to sing God´s praise, and for all the faithful and generous souls who play, sing, pray, and give in support of this ministry.








The Very Rev Penny Bridges

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Singing hymns: photoessay

The humorist Garrison Keillor is credited with the following:

 Many Episcopalians are bred from childhood to sing in four-part harmony, a talent that comes from sitting on the lap of someone singing alto or tenor or bass and hearing the harmonic intervals by putting your little head against that person’s rib cage. It’s natural for Episcopalians to sing in harmony. We are too modest to be soloists, too worldly to sing in unison. When you’re singing in the key of C and you slide into the A7th and D7th chords, all two hundred of you, it’s an emotionally fulfilling moment. By our joining in harmony, we somehow promise that we will not forsake each other. I do believe this, people: Episcopalians, who love to sing in four-part harmony are the sort of people you could call up when you’re in deep distress. If you are dying, they will comfort you. If you are lonely, they’ll talk to you. And if you are hungry, they’ll give you tuna salad!

Here are some photos of hymn-singing at the Cathedral. Sing out! Sing strong!
























Friday, September 8, 2017

Street Choir Benefit Concert: Homeless Serving the Homeless Through Music

Lyssa Melonakos of First Presbyterian Church shares this event with us:
The San Diego Street Choir, featured in the Union Tribune back in December, has grown a lot over the past year, both in numbers and in confidence.

The Street Choir is a choir designed for individuals experiencing homelessness. Despite the nature of street life—a constant lack of privacy, a constant nearness to other human beings, a life surrounded by urban activity—many homeless individuals experience intense isolation and marginalization from the community around them. Enough time on the street can convince anyone that their voice will not be heard. And yet, the Street Choir helps people truly get their voice back, and welcomes them into a genuine, supportive community. Many of them have been surprised by how impactful it has been to sing in the choir, to lift their voices among friends without fear. As one of the soloists explained, “I had no idea how powerful it is to sing in choir. God gave me a voice, and he wants me to use it.”

The Street Choir is now preparing for their biggest gig yet. On Friday, September 22nd, they will be showcasing their talents at the BlesSING Benefit Concert, at First Presbyterian Church at 7pm. Admission is free, but all proceeds collected during the freewill offertory will be donated to music and arts education at the Monarch School for kids impacted by homelessness. Please join us! You’ll be blown away by the passion of this unique choir.

This is a concert you won’t want to miss. For more details, check out the online invitation or the Facebook event page.

Monday, August 22, 2016

The Tuft of Flowers Revisited: Navarro River Strings Camp

You may know Robert Frost’s poem The Tuft of Flowers, but if you don’t, I commend it to you. The scene is a hay field in the late morning when the speaker has gone to turn the newly mown hay. The mower, having been there at dawn to complete his work, has gone his way. The speaker finds, thanks to a determined butterfly, that in the middle of the field of cut grass, the mower did his job well, leveling all of the hay, but on purpose left standing a single tuft of flowers.
“The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him,
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.”
On Thursday evening, I came upon a tuft of flowers. Not real flowers, metaphorical ones, notes on a page, the cello line of the third Brandenburg Concerto. J.S. Bach was the early morning worker who left us the splendor of that concerto, not with any thought of ‘ours to him,’ but with the same motives that the mower had, simple beauty.

The cello and I are fairly recent friends. It’s true that I played the cello in my 20s, but frankly, I remember next to nothing about how I played in those days, perhaps one benefit of a poor memory. When I began (again) last July, I brought the ability to read music, and I knew the names of the strings. So within twelve months to be sat down in front of a composition by Bach didn’t fill me with confidence.

“Come on, Robert, here’s the cello score. We’re going to sight read it so get your cello and join us.” That was from another cellist named Shirley from California’s gold country. Okay, I thought. It’s been a friendly and supportive group and no one at camp rose to be critical of the musical efforts of others. So I sat down and shared the score with her and about ten or fifteen others of us, forming a small chamber orchestra.

There is no easy Bach. Anyone who has ever attempted playing his music knows that, and I was sure that I couldn’t read the score, much less keep up with the group. Fine, I would play what I could and stop when I couldn’t. I’d listen to the ensemble. That would at least be instructive. But we started slowly, counting two measures of 4/4 time, and we read through the first movement. Then we read through it again, this time up to tempo.

I was keeping up! I was reading the score, and I was keeping up! The third time through, I was playing the music, not merely sawing out the notes on the cello. By the time we got to the final chord, I understood what Bach saw when he wrote this work. The beauty of sharing it with this small impromptu chamber group, and with Bach, filled me with inexpressible joy.
“But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
. . .
And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.”
I sat there beaming, perfectly ecstatic, reveling in the epiphany of the moment. The woman who had organized our playing looked over to see me grinning like an idiot. “I think Robert would like to play it again,” she said. And she was right. And so we did.

I suppose this all sounds a bit syrupy and gushy, but some of our dearest, deepest emotions, when we own up to them, often do sound that way when we try to tell them out loud or write them down. I can only say that I cannot remember any musical experience before in my life that produced the level of elation I experienced that evening, of being able to play the music of perhaps our greatest composer, coupled with genuine gratitude for Bach’s genius, for the music that reaches across nearly three hundred years, and for his bequeathing us his gift of a tuft of flowers.

Robert Heylmun

Friday, May 13, 2016

So you've taken up the Cello?

“Yes, I have.”


“But aren’t you writing any longer?”

“Well, not as much.”

“It’s just that you’d mentioned a third novel in the Laguna series. Think you’ll write it?”

Conversations like this happen fairly often. You get known for doing one thing and people expect you’re going to always do that. After all, don’t you want be like Charles Dickens? He didn’t piddle around with other art forms or start playing the trumpet, did he? Neither did Hemingway. They stuck to writing and that’s as it should be. And, friends assume, that’s they way it should be with you too.

I’ve never subscribed to the one-track notion of what to do in retirement. What I did know was that with a delicious amount of time on my hands, I would have to do something besides watch constant reruns of “I Love Lucy” all day. Besides, I’ve always had a wide range of interests, always wanted to try new things just to see how I’d do with them. The image of Maude’s (Harold and Maude) jam-packed Pullman car of a dwelling comes to mind, her walls lined with the objects that had fascinated her, activities she’d liked to do, musical instruments she’d learned to play, altogether a collage of her engaging and captivating life.

Making pictures came first for me. Painting watercolors had me enthralled for quite a while. I went out to Balboa Park and painted with my friend Lew (quite a good painter) on many Saturday mornings. Never got very good, but I enjoyed setting up a sheet of Arches paper and getting out paints and deciding on a subject. Lew and I had a good time.

Then I took picture making a step higher when I went to live in Florence. I enrolled in a traditional art school of the sort that Da Vinci and Michelangelo would have approved of. There I learned to draw the human form. Later in my stay, I began to paint, and I could fairly well record what was in front of me. But at some point, I realized the difference between being a painter and being an artist. The latter has vision; the former merely uses his eyes to reproduce in oil paint, what’s there in front of him. I was (am) a painter. I can still do it although I don’t because my heart isn’t in it.

Thanks to reading a badly written novel that an acquaintance wrote, I got interested in writing more than thousand-word essays like this one. His ‘novel’, a collection of poorly constructed sentences that failed to construct a plot and anything like believable characters impelled me toward the idea that I could write a better story, that I could describe characters with verisimilitude, and that I had a few tales to tell.

The easel and paints stowed away, I sat down at the computer to figure out what became the Laguna novels. Within two years time, I had written The House on Shadow Lane and its sequel Lagunatics. The year after that, I wrote a third novel. In all that time, I hadn’t painted a single stroke.

Last summer, for some unknown reason, I decided that I’d like to re-learn the cello. I’d played the cello many years ago but had quit when life got hectic and too full. I’d started teaching high school back then, attending graduate school two nights each week, and teaching at a community college. The cello sat silent for some time before I sold it. But now almost thirty years later, in the summer of 2015, it called to me once more and I began lessons with a wonderful teacher named Edward. Here it is almost a year later and I’m playing fairly confidently at a decently intermediate level, and enjoying the challenge of playing with others (duets with friend Mark from time to time; an ensemble group as well). My goal is to become a thoroughly competent cellist, but I have no aspirations to compete with Yo-Yo Ma or become the first chair of the San Diego Symphony Orchestra or to star as a soloist. I want instead to hear myself make music and have people enjoy it enough to want to hear me play it again.

The point here is that you’ll be happier if you don’t limit yourself. Try everything that you thought you might like to do and don’t worry if you find out that you aren’t the world’s next Picasso or that your novel doesn’t hit the New York Times best seller list. Don’t worry about scoffers or critics either. Just do your best to have a good time following your passion even it’s a temporary one.

Truth is, you’ll find lots of people to encourage you to help you find your potential, and it may surprise you what’s hidden inside your talent bank. The important thing is not to fear failure, not to head into oil painting intent on perfection as if you’re going to paint a masterpiece, not to take inaccurate notes on your cello to heart. Don’t take yourself too seriously but give whatever you take up all you have and be prepared to find out that all you have isn’t enough. That’s just fine. You’re a more fulfilled person for having learned not only your limits but your capabilities.

By now you may be saying, “Well, it won’t be long before Restless Robert gives up the cello for some new hobby.” From what I’ve said here, you’d have every right to think that. The difference is that among the three pursuits I’ve talked about here, I am most passionate about learning the cello. Painting and writing both deeply interested me and writing still does, but I am in love with the cello and learning to play it better. There is something about its sonority, the responsiveness to the bow, to the almost instant gratification of being able to have it make music with me that transports me as no other endeavor has. So let me put your doubts about my loyalty to rest. Regardless of whatever else I do from here on, I will be playing the cello.

As for that third Laguna novel that my friends think is residing somewhere in my head, I say, “Could be!” There are no limits but time. You’re retired? Good! Follow your dreams—all of them.

Robert Heylmun

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Photoessay: listening to lessons and carols

We have lots of traditional shots of the choir for the Evensong last week of Christmas lessons and carols (see them here).  But here are some more candid shots of those listening to the music.













Tuesday, July 30, 2013

A farewell from our organ scholar

Dear Friends,

It is bittersweet to announce my farewell recital from St. Paul's Cathedral. I have learned such a tremendous breadth of knowledge from Canon Green over the course of my tenure here and regret that I will not be able to continue to learn from him and work with the wonderful choirs here.

Having grow up in the Boy's Choir, studying organ was a natural step and working to become the Cathedral Organ Scholar fit right in with my proper Anglican education. Music here is done in the fashion of the cathedrals of Britain and our own church is in fact a member of the Royal School of Church Music; this has allowed me to be a small part of a magnificent tradition of sacred music. After over a decade of creating music at St. Paul's, it is difficult to bring myself to leave and I will sorely miss it when I think of all the fond memories.

I have been fortunate to study with Canon Green for this long. As he works with the boys' or girls' choirs, he subtly establishes the fundamentals of musicianship so that even at a young age his Choristers are able not only to read but also effectively interpret music. Having such a solid foundation from the choir, we were able to focus on more advanced interpretation early in my studies and on constant musical growth. He has taught me all of that extraordinarily well and I will be ever grateful to him for my experience here. But most significant is the way in which he inspires the passion for music in his students- that is what has pushed me into the field.

At Canon Green's suggestion, I also took coaching with Robert Plimpton. Mr. Plimpton and I worked largely on interpretation and pedal technique. He has helped me better understand how precisely-controlled a rubato can be and how to make it exceedingly expressive. He has helped me develop finer layers of nuance in phrasing and articulation. But from him the most important thing I could learn was how an intense spirituality both stems from and feeds moving musical experience.

Before I leave to study with Nathan Laube at The Eastman School of Music, I will play one final recital on August 18th after Evensong (at approximately 5:45). This will feature works that I have played many times at the Cathedral and some that I have never performed before. Selections will include the overture to The Meistersingers of Nuremberg, Bach's "Great" Prelude and Fugue in a minor BWV 543, Widor's elegiac Andante Sostenuto from the Symphonie Gothique, Mulet's Tu es Petra, and more great works of the organ repertoire.

Sincerely, 
Nicholas Halbert

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Franckly speaking: summer concert series

Dear Friends,

I am so thrilled to be announcing this July's recital series at St. Paul's Cathedral. At a time when many organizations are slowing down for summer vacation, we are so happy to be filling in the gap with beautiful music on the newly-restored Quimby pipe organ. This coming month we will be hosting three successive Sunday evening recitals: Bob Plimpton on July 7th; Nicholas Halbert on July 14th; and Martin Green on July 21st. All of the recitals will be composed solely of works from the oeuvre of Cesar Franck, and cumulatively we will perform nine of his twelve major works.

The decision to perform an all-Franck series was not a difficult one to make. There is no doubt that the Frenchman's works sound lovely on the lush and full timbres of the Quimby, complemented by the French-style fiery reed choruses. This is a case where instrument and composer are perfectly suited to one another. But in addition to that, his music is some of the most intense, dramatic, and moving ever written for the organ. His style ranges from hushed intimacy to full-blooded exultation in a way that few composers have mastered. And, he is the father of the modern French organ school- this series gives us the opportunity to examine his work more completely and will also be revelatory in showing the way he shaped French style from Vierne to Langlais and Messiaen to French organists writing today.

Bob Plimpton, Organist at FUMCSD, will present two of Franck's largest works, the Fantasie in A and Piece Symphonique; both of these works are full of the dramatic qualities that Franck came to be known for, and promise to make for an incredibly thrilling program. Nicholas Halbert, graduating Organ Scholar at the Cathedral, will present the Chorale No. 1 in E Major, the Prelude, Fugue and Variation, and the Chorale No. 3 in a minor. The two chorales are some of Franck's last works, and represent him at the pinnacle of his ability; they will be complimented by the middle work as a sort of autumnal intermezzo. The final concert, played by Martin Green, Canon for Music at the Cathedral, will consist of a selection of Franck's middle, shorter works, each of which is astonishing in its ability to create powerful and evocative sound-worlds in compact pieces: The Piece Heroique, Cantabile, Pastorale, and the grand Final. All of these concerts promise to be profound and moving experiences for devotees of this seminal composer.

Each will occur following Evensong on Sunday nights, at 5:45. We invite you to join us for our evening service of prayer and music at 5 to prepare yourself spiritually for the music to follow. Over the summer our Cathedral Schola sings largely a capella services with motets ranging from Byrd to Rheinberger.

Please join us!

Nicholas Halbert
Organ Scholar

Thursday, August 23, 2012

A visit to Quimby: Organ Update

Quimby Workshops
In late June I had the wonderful opportunity to visit Quimby Pipe Organ's shops in person. In this article, I'll take you along with me as best I can on my time spent there alongside some of the most talented pipe organ craftsmen in the United States.

The Quimby Pipe Organ (QPO) facility comprises several structures in multiple locations throughout Warrensburg, Missouri. The main workshop facility and office are located just a couple of blocks away form the University campus and what I'll call "downtown" Warrensburg.

After flight and rental car delays, I finally made it to Warrensburg - arriving at the motel at 3.30 am (not the original plan!) After a few hours sleep, I arrived at their main workshop and office building and was greeted by Michael Quimby and got to meet most of his crew.

Some re-leathering is taking place on
the work tables.
Inside the main shop building there is a lot of activity. There are several workshop areas, each dedicated to different tasks, and two soundproof voicing rooms. Racks of pipe crates (mostly from our instrument) fill almost all the remaining space.

Some of our tuning access ladders in the
paint booth receiving a lacquer coat.
After touring this main shop facility, Mr Quimby took me on a tour of his other facilities. One of the first buildings we saw was an immense structure that houses his inventory of vintage pipework and other components, including a few complete instruments. Quimby Pipe Organs has one of the largest inventory of vintage pipework in the country, and much of it comes from Aeolian-Skinner or earlier E. M. Skinner instruments.

One of the woodworkers busy on
components for our instrument.
The next stop - just a few blocks from the main workshop - is the woodworking shop. This building is a former auto body shop, and came complete with the paint booth area and ventilation equipment so that they are able to apply beautiful finishes to the wood components, even things like the tuning access ladders they were building on the day of my visit.

Tim at work on the boot (or base)
of one of our reed pipes.






Then next day was one of the most fascinating of the whole trip (granted, in an extremely nerdy way!). I was able to spend the majority of the day with Tim Duchon, the Pipemaker. He works offsite from the Quimby shops, but nearby. I came to learn that Tim is one of a very few people crafting pipes by hand in this country. I also quickly gained enormous respect for his skill (just like the rest of the QPO crew) and his mastery of his craft.
One of the large cutting machines used
 to cut sheet metal down to size.

While I was visiting, he was making some pipes for one of our reed stops that need to be replaced. The walls of his workshop are filled with templates, forms, and many handmade tools for every conceivable type and size of pipe. In the center of the room is a large worktable where the pipes are rolled out.

Sheet metal being beaten around
the form for a small treble pipe.
This process starts from blank sheets of metal. Various alloys are used in the construction of different types of pipes; some quite soft, others hard. The large piece of sheet metal is cut down to size to fit the form for the pipe to be made.

After cutting, the sheet metal is bent around a form to make the basic shape of the pipe. This is done by hand whether the pipe is only a few inches in length or over 16 feet!

 Two reed pipes ready for soldering.
Mine is on the left. Not too bad
for a first attempt!
After watching this process for a few minutes, it was my turn! Tim walked me through the process of how to form the pipe, and then turned me loose to try a few on my own. Trust me - its much harder than it looks.

After further preparation work and soldering the seam closed (a task I was not able to get very good at....) we end up with completed basic pipe lengths. These will still need to have the reed assembly made and attached and then cleaned and finished in a lacquer coat.

The next day was my opportunity to watch the voicing process of reed pipes up close and personal. This was the perfect complement to spending the previous day working with the pipe maker. The voicing of reed pipes is one of the most mysterious and painstakingly meticulous arts in the realm of organ building.

Some reed pipes on the work table. These will
 be some of the new pipes for the 4' Clarion
stop on the Swell division of our organ.
Eric Johnson is the Head Voicer for QPO and is personally voicing every reed pipe in our instrument. Eric is widely regarded as one of the best (if not the best) reed voicer in the country and I couldn't be more thrilled to have him working on our instrument!


Eric Johnson unpacking a rank of reed
pipes to set up in the voicing room.






When the process of voicing begins, the pipes have already been thoroughly cleaned and inspected for any flaws, and necessary repairs made by the pipemaker. After setting up a rank of reed pipes in the voicing room, Eric goes through and listens to each one, carefully analyzing many factors - its tone quality, volume, rate of speech, just to name a few.

One of the most fascinating steps to watch in the process was the work on what is called the "tongue". (This is the part of the reed assembly that actually vibrates, just like in an orchestral reed such as a clarinet or oboe, creating the reedy tone for the particular stop). These are all formed by hand from brass and range in size from several inches long to quite small, depending on the pitch of the pipe it will be used in. He then polishes and sets the curve (a slight bend) in each one by hand.

A close-up of the boot of a reed pipe on the worktable.
The tongue is the small piece of brass laying on the
 table surface before being worked by Eric Johnson.
Adjustments measured in fractions of millimeters are what happen here, and the difference these nearly invisible adjustments make in the sound of each pipe is astounding.

Throughout the course of its history, the people of St Paul's have always been proud of its music program and desired the best organ possible, even from day one. This is evident in looking at the lineage of the St Paul's Memorial Organ from its beginning as a small, 2-maunual instrument by the venerable Hook and Hastings Organ Co in 1887 through its move to the present site and its major expansion and rebuilding by the Aeolian-Skinner Organ Co in 1969.
One of our reed stops set up in the voicing room.

After my first-hand experience in Warrensburg I can say without hesitation that this tradition of obtaining the best of the best will be carried on, if not improved upon, in the present project by this amazing group of artisans that makes up the Quimby Pipe Organ Co.

Martin Green , Canon for Music

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

NY Times article on Spreckels Organ and Dr Carol Williams

The New York Times had an article this week about Dr Carol Williams, St Paul's organist in residence, and the civic organist of San Diego.  You may recall a vigorous discussion in the city about whether San Diego can afford to pay the organist.  Says the NY Times,

SAN DIEGO — On the best days, loyal fans say, it is possible to hear the thundering organ three miles away. Weighing nearly 100,000 pounds with more than 4,500 pipes, the organ is nearly the largest in the world.  
Devotees here puff up with pride at the unique features of the organ, which will turn 97 on New Year’s Eve. But perhaps nothing makes them prouder than the fact that their city is the only one left in America still paying for a civic organist. So this year, the birthday celebration comes with a huge sigh of relief. 
Facing serious budget deficits, San Diego officials considered eliminating the job, which had been on the city payroll for nearly a century. The city chips in about $30,000 toward the $56,000 salary of the organist, who plays free concerts each Sunday afternoon in Balboa Park, the sprawling space in the center of the city.
...
Of the $250,000 budget to put on the Sunday concerts and a Monday night series in the summer, the Spreckels Organ Society, named for the sugar heir who gave the organ to the city as a gift before the Panama-California Exposition in 1915, collects about $30,000 from members and $42,000 from the city. It raises the rest through grants and other outside donations. 
Ross Porter, the administrator of the society, said he had not been surprised to be challenged this year, when “every penny is getting turned over twice.” But he was also not surprised when hundreds of supporters sent letters to the City Council and the local newspapers, saying the money was hardly different from the city’s subsidizing sports venues and development projects. ... 
In the end, Ms. Williams’s contract was renewed for 10 years, and the society raised more money than it had in some time.....
Yay!  Good news for the Spreckels organ, the park , and the community!

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Organ Update

Thank you!

The Campaign Committee wishes to express its profound gratitude to all who have a made a pledge to the campaign thus far. We received a flurry of new pledges last week in response to the Dean's request to turn pledges in by the end of June. In addition to the well over 200 pledges received, we have also received more than fifty special gifts to the campaign. And beyond all that good news, we are delighted to report that many people have made significant increases to their initial pledges made earlier in the campaign. (If you would like to increase your pledge, simply email Canon Chris Harris at harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org)

Where We Stand

All this good news brings us to a new milestone in the campaign. We have just edged past the 90% mark. Adding all the generosity together, we have now received $1,126,093 toward our goal of $1,250,000.

Where We Go from Here

Having concluded Leadership and Membership phases, we move into the latter two phases of the campaign. For the remainder of this month and much of the next, we will focus on seeking support from friends of congregation members, supporters of music from around the City of San Diego, and friends and colleagues within tMake a gift of stock herehe Diocese of San Diego. If you know of anyone who would be willing to consider a request for support of this effort, please let Chris Harris, Canon for Congregational Development, know as soon as possible. He may be reached at 619-298-7261 x334 or harrisc@stpaulcathedral.org Once the Community Phase is complete, Perfecting Our Praises will conclude with a Wrap-up Phase aimed at closing whatever gap remains and a celebration that honors the generosity of all our donors, announces all the special intentions made (memorials, tributes, and thanksgivings), and commends the efforts of the campaign volunteers.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

"Let all God's Glory Through"

You may think that I’m going to tell you about why I think it is important to give to Perfecting our Praises in the context of the need to support our music program. And maybe, peripherally, I am. But I really want to talk about three virtues that I perceive in our common life at St. Paul’s Cathedral and their relationship to the campaign: outreach, evangelism, and glorifying God through legacy building.

So let me first get the obligatory self-disclosures out of the way. I am a music lover. I absolutely adore the Anglican choral tradition, and can’t conceive of life in San Diego without the fine musical offerings of this cathedral, a place whose outreach first ministered to me years ago.

It was 1967 when I first walked through the doors of St. Paul’s Church. It wasn’t to come to a worship service. I came to hear a concert. I think it was Haydn’s Mass in Time of War. Supporting the whole edifice of choir, soloists and orchestra was the organ – played at the time by Howard Don Small – and largely the same instrument we hear today. I was hooked.

So this little story of coming to a concert is my personal testimony to the experience of successful outreach as practiced at St. Paul’s. Successful outreach can be the meeting of kindred souls, a shared experience, or an event, such as a concert, that is directly and honestly offered on the one hand, and embraced on the other. Through extending the hand of outreach, we live into the summary of the law, loving our neighbors as ourselves. We practice many forms of outreach here; hospitality, education, social justice ministries, for some just our abiding openness and presence; and of course, our outreach through music. I want that outreach to continue, and I hope that you do, too.

The experts at the Episcopal Church Foundation say that the organ campaign may be a hard sell: while one third of us can’t imagine worship without a pipe organ, another third of us are generally indifferent to it, and the final third of us think the money should be used elsewhere. Perhaps some of the last group would prefer that we use our financial resources toward the gospel imperative of evangelism. I believe that evangelism and support for the organ campaign dovetail.

I can’t begin to count how many times when I’ve heard parishioners here tell their stories that they mention hearing God’s voice through music. The essence of evangelism is to quicken personal response to God’s graciousness. Now, evangelism in the Anglican tradition is more a process rather than a crisis as we are called toward progressive realization of our nature and destiny in Christ. The music of our Memorial Organ has moved many to experience this transcendence, this pull, this call, and is literally an “instrument of evangelism.” For me, a gift toward the restoration of our pipe organ may be one of the most important evangelism efforts I can make at St. Paul’s.

Finally, St. Paul’s has always looked toward the future; towards loving those neighbors that are proximate in time as well as in space. From the parish founders in downtown San Diego ordering a pipe organ to be shipped around South America, through the building of the Great Hall, and then the cathedral itself, and in current plans for future expansion, we have a long tradition of leaving a legacy that enriches the life of future generations. It is our turn now. I have pledged to Perfecting Our Praises with an eye to the future and to St. Paul’s continuing witness in the community in succeeding generations. Sacrificial giving, in proportion to our means, can be a powerful spiritual discipline. I invite you to join me in this work.

One of my favorite poets, Gerard Manley Hopkins, wrote of the “one work” that Mary had to do “to let all God’s glory through.” I believe that in our own small way, we emulate the devotion and transparency of Mary and create a legacy for future generations as we support the campaign for restoration of this magnificent pipe organ that for so many, yesterday, today, and hopefully tomorrow, “lets all God’s glory through.”

Mark Lester

Thursday, June 23, 2011

The language of Heaven

As a part of our organ campaign, I am glad to be here to speak for a couple of minutes about the power of this organ and music in general. Music has surrounded me my whole life but it wasn’t until the terminal cancer of my step father that I realized its power and importance.
After two years of fighting this illness, it was clear to all of us that he was dying. I was far away in San Diego and he and my mom were in Minnesota. I began thinking about all of the things he was leaving behind, favorite foods, warm time with family, the beauty of a day, and music. Oh my, music. I could not even fathom the idea of leaving music behind. It was more than I could bear. I began picking out all of my favorite pieces to play for him one last time before he was gone. During this time I heard, really heard Samuel Barber’sAdagio for Strings for the first time. It was Steve rising and entering the sizzling light of heaven with us left behind to pick up the pieces. I could see it so completely. I had to play this one for him as well. As I packed for this monumental trip home I probably had more CD’s than clothes in my suit case.

I spoke with my dad about music after Steve’s death, “how can we leave music,” I cried. “I don’t thing we do leave music” was his response. I think the music comes with us. My father was a singer and he told me that sometimes, some special and rare times, when he sang during a performance, he felt the power of thousands of voices and he know that there were many many more there singing along with him. He knew that he was a part of something of God.

Not even a year later it was my father that was struck with cancer. My boys, his grandsons, sing in the boy’s choir here and so I would send him clips of their singing and our organ. On one of my many trips to Minnesota I brought along with me the online St. Georges Service. We had a date, my father and I, in his hospital room, sat together on his bed and he marveled at the beauty and power of that service, tears streaming down his face. That day our organ way out here in San Diego moved a very sick man in Minnesota who loved music and knew its power.

My dad always said he’d be there for his funeral. He’d planned every detail including all of the fantastic music. I watched for him the whole time. My children played the piano, that was a special moment, the choir sang, that was a special moment, but in none of that did I feel dad. It was only after the service that I found my dad’s presence. His wife asked me to mover her car, the sky was stormy just the kind of sky my dad would have loved, and as I turned the key on her car the radio blared one line from a Beatles song “All you need is love”. I knew it was my dad. That was his gift to me from heaven. In that one phrase of music, “All you need it love,” my dad had sent me the meaning of life. We can find God in all kinds of music from our grand organ and it’s heaven like sounds to rock and roll coming in through a simple car radio.


Throughout these hard times, the music of our organ, my boys singing, my CD collection, and even the pop radio; music was there to hold me that much higher when I felt strong and cradle me in its comfort when it was all just too much. Here on earth, music is a big part of my connection to God and my connection to heaven.

I am generously supporting our Organ Restoration because it opens us up to the divine. My dad knew this true gift of music and he has passed that gift onto me. And I, in turn, will pass the same gift onto my own children. The music of our organ supports us and provides us with a small piece of heaven here on earth.

Christine D'Amico

Friday, June 17, 2011

Why is Music a Religious Experience?

This fascinating article from the Huffington Post by a neuroscientist discusses how music affects us in the same way as religion does.  The author describes his own experience as a reverent non-believer.
Many people, myself included, experience a religious-type awe when listening to certain pieces of music. What exactly is the relationship between music and religion and where in the brain does that commonality emerge?

As I've written before in books and blogs, I am an atheist and yet I have an empathy for religion. Intellectually, I do not think there is a literal God. Emotionally, I am not anti-religious. One of the reasons why I feel an emotional empathy for religion is that it reminds me of my attitude toward music.

Many of the moral generalizations that have been applied to religion apply just as well to music. Music is a cultural phenomenon. It intensifies emotions. It helps cement communities. It can range from the terroristic to the sublime....

Yet something else harder to put into words, something that goes beyond cultural impact, unites music and religion. When I am listening to certain pieces of music I feel a reverence creeping over me, an awe that has a spiritual quality...

My brain is treating the music like a universe of complexity and investing that universe with its own deity, for whom I feel some measure of awe and reverence. My relationship to the music is, in the most fundamental sense, the same as a religious relationship to the real world.
How does this compare to your experience of music?
 
Susan Forsburg

Monday, June 13, 2011

A Sliver of the Divine

Standing here is quite transition for me - I'm much more accustomed to sitting in the transept or the choir stalls. When I was younger, but not much shorter - those of you who see me process Sunday mornings will notice that I am aspiring to the 5ft mark, thank you Brooks for the use of the box - I sang with the St. Cecilia's girls choir. I had always been involved with choirs and music but nothing quite so challenging.

I had never had a chance to work with an instrument like the organ we have in St. Paul's. I was and in still am in awe of it. The pipes, the pedals, the endless knobs, the stops - I've been asked to turn pages for the organist several times now and every time it leaves me on the verge of a panic attack. In my defense I've actually heard that the three hardest things to do in the world are brain surgery, piloting a jet and playing the organ. I've checked in with both a brain surgeon and a jet pilot - they agreed that the prospect of trying to play this organ terrifies them.

During my time in St. Cecelia's I learned a lot about music, and about musicianship and about God particularly my last year in the choir. High school ushered in many challenges, amongst them an episode of deep, excruciating and unshakable depression. I was in pain, I was angry, isolated, inconsolable. Getting out of bed in the morning prompted anxiety attacks that made eating breakfast impossible. Homework was a Herculean task. The only thing I looked forward to was music and not just any music. Music in this place with this organ.

Music is often described as the language of heaven, and in that vein I firmly believe it has the power to articulate our feelings in a way that words cannot. In some of my darkest moments I sat here and while listening and practicing and singing I had the opportunity to connect with God in way that I had never understood before. Singing De Profundis Clamavi or "out of the depths I cry to you Lord" wasn't an exercise in reciting words off the page, it was an act that allowed me to express an almost unrelenting feeling of pain. A triple pianissimo or barely audible line allowed me to speak and then listen for whatever God might say, and a triumphant ending inspired a sense of joy. And while I was in the midst of all this music I couldn't help but feel that the space between the Divine and myself was really quite small. When I sang and when I listened God heard me and I could hear God.

With incredible experiences and friends I graduated and left St. Cecelia's - it was time to head off to college to become a "grown up", an "adult." Surprisingly after school my professional life brought me back to San Diego and like a homing pigeon back to St. Paul's. Now I sing with the allegedly adult choir though I often think we're nearly, if not more, rambunctious than our younger counterparts. While the group is different, the experience is quite similar.

The music here still draws people in and whether they are singing or listening, it can help bind us when we feel shattered, comfort us in moments of sorrow, and help us celebrate in moments of joy. Music gives us a shimmery sliver of the Divine.

A significant part of what makes the music program here at St. Paul's so incredible is the organ. Excellent care and maintenance have allowed it to push past the normal problems and pitfalls an instrument of this size and construction face. But, the time has come when for all its care and upkeep a significant effort to restore the organ must be made. I am generously supporting the restoration of the organ because I want and hope that others will experience a sliver of the Divine in music, which has been unspeakably meaningful to me. To do this - we need your help. We need your help to ensure that listening to this organ is an experience we can share with all who come here for years to come. I hope you'll consider supporting joining our campaign Perfecting our Praises to restore the organ.

Thank you.

Margret Hernandez