This was an extraordinary week ... so extraordinary that the opening movement of Brahms' German Requiem is what came to mind ... "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted" is the text in English, and the word in German is selig -- "Selig sind die da Leid tragen." Not gesegnet, blessed by decree, but selig -- made happy, even blissful.
I knew last week, and even two weeks ago, that ahead of me were the confluence of two things I would rather not do: a corporate Christmas party and the funeral of a dearly beloved early mentor ... a peaceful, powerful man who runs second only to my father in formative influence ... and in fact, was my father's student, and one of only four people to whom my parents and grandmother entrusted any of my spiritual education before the age of 12. He also made time for me to first use the gifts that made me into the powerful community servant I am today beginning at age nine, because another formative mentor who was friends with my grandmother could see the early dawning of my mathematical and communication gifts.
Result: he would live long enough so that he and I would serve together powerfully as adults, down to the very last year of his life -- a decade in which I was able to support him staying present and powerful. Another full circle, completed -- he and my even older mentor started me out, and he and I together preserved what my older mentor and her husband had built while I helped him finish strong ... six weeks before the end, I spoke with him ... he was as cheerful as ever ... none of us knew that the choir on high, having heard him sing the lead on the Negro Spiritual "Twelve Gates" all those years, was getting ready for the gates to swing open in the City, and for him to take his baritone seat in that everlasting light ...
Through this juxtaposition of events I came to understand what King Solomon, the wisest man in Scripture said in Ecclesiastes: the house of mourning is better than the house of merriment because of this juxtaposition. The death of a great person and the reality of that loss in an evil world brings people into a more sober mind, and people who are of the same caliber and know that they are to carry on the work will find and be able to comfort each other. Not that there is not a place for laughter and joy in the midst of the comfort, but context is important.
As I went and did what was required of me as a choir member and a giver of tribute at that funeral, I discovered that a great admirer of mine in Web 2 was present ... before I sighted him, having never before actually met him in person, I recognized his deep grounding in both classical and African American music, and the thoughtfulness of communication in writing in Web 2 for which I greatly admire him ... this thoughtfulness and reverence translated equally well in music. I had my mask on, so he also could not know me until I introduced myself ... and to my surprise, he was a mutual admirer, and instantly embraced me! Turns out he and I have been conducting choir within 4-6 blocks of each other for years, and just never knew it, so we have been blessing in parallel.
All that day, and all that weekend, there were so many moments that love reached out and embraced me, on Earth as it was in Heaven ... with me having to be in the mode of keeping my life and business and emotions together, I literally felt Love Infinite's embrace coming from all sides ... on more than one morning I awakened overcome with gratitude and joy and awe for the peace and powerful provision I have experienced, both directly, as expressed through Creation, and through so many people moved to show love to me. "Selig sind, die da Leid tragen" -- so indeed it did occur!
All this at length reminded me ... as ever there is an echo in here ... on this day doing a "high harmony" to a thunderstorm on the beautiful D2 he was known for, booming a gentle "I told you so" ever from his side of the fourth wall ... more specifically, recently:
As you walk, abide, and adorn yourself as you are called, you will appear and reflect the light you are walking in to those that will respond to their calling. Quietude looks exceptionally lovely on you, Frau Mathews.
And, in early June, therefore in the late spring:
The day will come, Frau Mathews, when your students and your true friends and more will come around you, and bless you back -- you have chosen love, and love will overtake you!
Six months later in the late autumn -- our resident ethereal bass's prediction is proving out right, clear through the non-fiction side of the fourth wall! Even for the past two weeks ... with the gentle closeness of deep mutual admiration and respect that lit him up on his side of the fourth wall... when at the funeral on my non-fiction side of the fourth wall my admirer got off the organ looking like he had seen an entire star and embraced me, I was not as surprised because ...
"Frau Mathews, ich habe es dir gesagt."
It was uncanny -- how had he known, down to two weeks ahead, to get me prepared for that?
I had to go take a walk and think about all this ... down paths at the end of autumn after much rain and the winter cold flip surprisingly on time this year ... but it seemed that no step that I could take on the limited path available to me could break the pattern .. I found plants lavished in silver drops where the sun had not yet dried them...
... and others, studded with diamonds where a singular ray of sun let them glow and shine ...
... and others, defying winter in their summer glory ...
... and when I got into the park, I saw a golden garland of love, although I would not remove it from its defiant summer to put it on my head ...
... and thus, behind me on such paths, it was explained... for the rest of the first movement of that wonderful work of Brahms quotes another passage of Scripture from the Psalms:
Die mit Tränen säen, werden mit Freuden ernten.
Sie gehen hin und weinen und tragen edlen Samen,
und kommen mit Freuden und bringen ihre Garben.
Of course I knew that reverent, double-deep speaking voice, slowly growing closer and overtaking me in its sweet embrace ... I easily translated it into English, for I knew the passage well... they that sow in tears, and having gone forth to plant seed in spring (when it rains, in analogy to tears) shall return again rejoicing, bearing the sheaves of harvest with them.
"It could be no other way, Frau Mathews. I am the echo of all these things you already know, set in order for you to remember as you walk in them. What is written must be fulfilled. You were in mourning for years, and yet never stopped sowing the seeds of love. In any pain below that which was literally too much for you to move or think, if occasion came for you to take comfort in blessing someone else, you did. So you must be comforted, and you must now begin to bring your sheaves home again at harvest. The path your elders and mentors have shown you of walking in love you have faithfully walked -- so love must overtake you."
The Ghost of Musical Greatness Past was providing me a beautiful object lesson, overtaking me, and with his usual stage timing was closing the gap more rapidly as I was coming out of the shade. So, just as I stepped into the full autumn sunshine ...
"Selig sind, die da Leid tragen, denn sie sollen getröstet werden," he sang over me as his arms went around me.
Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Now this was my first day for myself, with time enough to listen to Brahms and study the history of his requiem -- it was his response to his mother's passing, and perhaps that of his friend and mentor Robert Schumann, to console both himself and the beloved widow Clara Schumann, and time enough for an extended walk.
But it was almost winter, and cold, in the briefest days of the year... and because I had not slept well but not much, I had heard my joints at times popping a bit ... a gentle warning, because I need a longer time of rest in my mid-forties for my body to repair itself. So, love had literally had overtaken me from behind before I could get into territory in which I could hurt myself, in the warmest possible place, and from which I could turn back and get home in what remained of the warmth and light of the day. Now, I do not say that I was under arrest, although the embrace of a man a foot taller and that much broader and stronger had physically arrested my forward motion by strict definition. In pure mortality, the strength differential would have been too much for me to overcome; in his immortal state, the strength differential was truly ridiculous.
But I do not even think he realized yet his assignment included this detail ... his uncanny stage timing fit neatly with the all-knowledge of the One Who sent him ... and that was the answer to the lesson of how his lessons had fallen out the way they did in time. He was still human, as I was, and did not know the future, but at our golden dinner and walk at Blue Heron Lake, he had told me the truth:
I could not but sing as I have this week, here and up home, for in doing so I open to you a deep matter of walking in love between mortality and immortality. If there is a mortal man who shall make you his wife, it cannot be that he shall not be overcome and overflow with the beauty and power of that three-note chord between the love of the One Who sent him to love you, his personal love for you, and your love in return. It is said of another type of cord that 'A three-fold cord is not quickly broken' -- the analogy applies equally well.
Apparently, this generalized ... in the midst of those who loved my mentor and his family, this was how we walked through the grief ... our love for each other, remembering his personal love for us, and the One Who loved us all ... a threefold chord ... between my and my surprise mutual admirer ... a love of community, a track record of blessing all around through music and writing to the beloved community, and the One Who loved us both having arranged a meeting at last where we were both blessing.
And also, this:
There are moments in mortality when we need others whose vision is clearer to reflect the light we cannot see well for the moment. Reconsider our three years of knowing each other in this light: I reflected the light of love to you when I found you in your deep grief, and when I was troubled with certain memories that I must sometimes endure on Earth, you also reflected the light of love to me. This also is a deep matter of walking in love, on its bright side.
Again, this generalized well ... I had seen it in and around the funeral very clearly.
This also opened up something that is obvious, but in a proud culture, prejudice and pretense often hide it: one cannot know everything, and one need not know everything. No one can see around a corner, and no one can know the future, but in walking, abiding, and adorning in the light, not only will one appear at the proper time to the proper people, but the preparation will be revealed in the going before then. I knew this from all my training in the Scriptures, and from all study of history, and even in looking back over my life and considering my teens and twenties and thirties ... but now I had walked through it with open eyes, on the verge of my 44th year.
With all the foregoing thoughts in mind, I had never even considered resistance, but there was a still a step to make. I had not yet even wept as completely as I might have in and around that funeral ... so much under duty there and in the days before and after, knowing how many people were depending on me in that same stretch of days before and after to keep it together ... I had not asked, for that matter, for the rest I had gotten after Covid-19, but only for the peace and strength to get through ... but I had leaned into that rest ... and so had begun to understand that I could rest, and be blessed in it. The whole summer had been blessed, so now, on the verge of winter ...
Now there was a whole conversation I had encountered as an adult ... the mistrust ... so many bad people making it hard for anyone to trust, but a particular complaint from men representing themselves as good men: "I had to always be punished for what the last man did or did not do ... she never could trust me ... she never would open up to me ... I never had her heart." Now, not all representations are reality ... but I had grown up around enough excellent men to consider that was a possibility for some just as it had been for me as a woman ... no one can love another into choosing to love them back. The beloved has to choose...
... so I leaned into the love that had overtaken me.
"Vielen Dank, liebes Herz..."
Many thanks, dear heart.
Now he had been singing from Brahms all the while, and there was nothing to complain of in the reverent beauty of him working with those melodies ... but he could always bring that voice up to a higher level of beauty, and my grateful yielding instantly inspired him to a level of tenderness that brought me to tears and gave me the room I needed to feel all my feelings and release them ... and he sang right on, just sliding into the bass line in the selig bookend of that requiem ... the closing movement:
Blessed are they who die in the Lord from henceforth: Yeah, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors, and their works do follow them ... that is the text in English. I knew instantly why this portion had been sung to me ... I was the living, walking, talking legacy of my faithful elders, following in their footsteps ... indeed, their work is following them, while they rest ... and already, there are those who are preparing to follow me when I rest. Nothing is out of order, though pain and loss and grief are included in the package ... and Brahms tied his requiem with a bow ... the first and last words are the same: blessed, but not gesegnet, although that is true. The word is selig ... though pain, loss, and grief come with the package, the state of the blessed is blessed, here, and there, and all the way.
After all that, he drew back from me, his face and eyes a picture of love and concern as deep as his voice as he looked at me ... and then was dazzled by my smile as I turned around.
"Have I mentioned how much I am loving your holiday form?"
He, caught by surprise, relief, and joy, laughed uproariously, and the city, once again hit with the Laughing Big One, became warmer and more full of smiles than it would have been!
"I'm sure you are, Frau Mathews -- almost had me caught up in a baritone solo in Brahms, but you saw how I went right back into the bass section as YouTube helped us out! You almost have me rolling in this grass laughing, even though you know it is all mud to the point that even you with your audacious self are not trying to climb your summer paths!"
"Have I mentioned how I admire your sure-footedness?"
"As much as you have been testing it recently, you ought to!"
The Laughing Big One aftershock was just as big as the previous rattler, and so was the next one!
"Now last week you were talking about San Franciscans having the right to practice shaking, rattling, and rolling, so I see you are letting us get the practice in today!"
"But not you, my dear!"
He was so relieved to find me so relieved he was in a playful mood ... and so embraced me again, holding me close as we danced for a few moments in a very bright place, his eyes shining as he laughed ... but more softly because I was so close to him ... he reeled the infrasonic completely back in, and the city settled back down, although its seismologists would be busy for a week trying to figure out what in the world had happened!
But after that, again he drew back, and studied me closely ...
"I did not know the autumn would give way to winter in such devastating loss for you, Frau Mathews ... and you know you have my deepest condolences ... but I rejoice to see you so uplifted by light and love! I rejoice!"
"You prepared me in the summer all the way to last week," I said gently. Wir sind gesegnet, und wir sind selig ... we are blessed and blessed. In the good times, and the bad ... we are blessed because called, and can be made happy and at home in that calling even though circumstances continue to change and some of them are devastating. Yet the truth is true, and it will show itself to the heart willing to see it."
"Tell me this, Frau Mathews, as we are near the close of the year ... as we prepare for another winter journey ... ."
He was thinking of Schubert's Winterreise ... the sudden grimness of his face told me that.
"... Do you know why so many do not see it, under these circumstances?"
The grimness relaxed as he watched my face while I searched my mind for the answer.
"Being human," I said, "I know sometimes our vision is clouded by the emotions that go with great loss. But in the midst of that, there is so much clouding that takes place if we cannot accept the reminder that we are not in control, and still more if we begin to charge God with injustice if He will not bend to our demands for control and compensation -- that is where things begin to go wrong in the first song of Winterreise. The character says love is inconstant, and God wants it that way, which parses out to 'He won't let me have what I want, so He is no good,' and eventually, by song 22, parses out to 'The gods have abandoned the earth, so we are the gods,' which then causes him in song 23 to reject three suns in the sky and wish for darkness, for that three-in-one light will not do his will."
"He can see, but by that point, he would prefer blindness -- and meets and embraces his ideal in song 24, in the freezing hurdy-gurdy man who is no longer conscious of his imminent deadly peril because he is intent on the tune that is his, but cannot save him."
"I think that is what happens to a lot of us," I said. "Grief reminds us that the universe is not here to do our will. Brahms resolves this at the end of Movement 6 of his requiem... and it is a journey to acceptance that we are not, in fact, in control, and to be willing to submit to the One in Whose hands life and death are held."
"But once through there, movement 7 has us blessed on both ends," he said.
"Yes," I said.
He paused a moment, and then ... it is hard to describe the look that came over his face, except by the progression of his voice, beginning in its deepest gentle gravity and slowly moving in intensity, though still quiet, to the verge of ecstasy ...
"I say to you now what I dared not say in all of 2023, and only began to allude to in 2024 ... in the spring you dug into your strong heels against the introduction of the idea, and I understood ... you were not ready yet. You could not then understand the precious value of the grief you chose in 2022 and 2023. To release control of the outcomes of the living, to leave them right there in their decisions and follow your calling, was in some ways harder than any loss from natural death, for the temptation to turn back is so great. Yet you did not waver, Frau Mathews. You climbed on. You released control of their outcomes and any wish to be vindicated. You released your pride. You released your own longing for community, and climbed on.
"The value, Frau Mathews, the precious value of that ... you have been refusing the illusion of control for 30 full months as of today, so in all successive incidents of grief, you are already disengaged with the desire to fight for control of what no mortal can control, and therefore are not as tempted to start fighting and losing the quarrel of the ages concerning whose will shall be done and who is good based on that.
"And, mein geliebtes Blumenkind ... you who love to walk in these parks ... ."
"What would it be like to be in such a place, while no longer feeling the need to fight the quarrel of the ages? How would you live? Might not echoes of Eden, and its peace, attend one again? And do you not see that if you were brought away from all that could not so walk, and all ties cut between you and them, then you could walk here in peace with sufficient distance between you and them so that you will not constantly be submerged in the collateral damage of consequences they must suffer because they are a quarrel that no mortal may win?"
He paused, and his jaw set with the grimness of his next set of ideas.
"I have gotten caught up a little bit on your long study of how maritime disasters occur -- many are a long process of people fighting the quarrel of the ages in small ways, for no matter how reality shouts a warning, and flashes it, they want what they want and are intent on getting it and will neither see nor hear anything else. If you take away the glamour of the H.M.S. Titanic, and the mystery of the submersible Titan, most people are captaining their own personal El Faro."
I jumped slightly ... but he was right. El Faro ... just an everyday container ship to all appearances, subject to all kinds of people modifying it and not maintaining it well as it aged, for its sister ships had to immediately be taken out of commission after its loss ... its tragic, completely avoidable loss, except that the investigation suggests that the captain had his heart set on a promotion, wanted to make that last shipment on time despite warnings from all sides, and steered right into a hurricane his ship simply was not in condition to survive ... never knowing that it had already been decided on earth and would be affirmed by eternity: he was not ever going to get that promotion. It took 40 years to sink that ship ... 40 years of bad decisions, based on its original design, capped off by a captain blinded to all but the vision of an advancement already denied him once, again, and forever.
"How old are you, Frau Mathews, and how old are the peers you have had to leave behind? Were any of you designed to sail head on into the quarrel of the ages? Were any of you designed to live for this world system that sees you as nothing but chattel? Are any of this world's tokens worth all the accumulating compromises and damage needed for such an attempt at life? What is the cost of being blind by choice, of only focusing on what one has suffered and using that reinforce the sense of entitlement to whatever it is that will lure one to one's doom? For that matter, in terms of San Francisco: where are the majority of your peers? Did they even make it to 40?"
All of the questions were rhetorical. The answers were known, and they are a depth of grief for me that I shall not completely leave until I have left for eternity. Nonetheless, no more grief of that type is being added on regular basis. That is the difference of 2024 from every year preceding it ... the realization suddenly dawned on me.
"And I knew that you would get where you were going if you just kept going," he said, the gravity of his manner suddenly melting into poignant tenderness, "into the protection for which you are designed and redeemed, into all levels of the peace with the One Who called you for which -- is it not Christmastime? -- for which a Child was born, and a Son given!"
"Even as one does not have to be a Christian to enjoy the beauty of that music, there is a general level to this as well ... one can see that one is being sold a bill of goods on so many things, and if one can just turn from the carrot one will never get ... even generally, this can be done. But to claim this --
"-- and still to fail? To claim to be redeemed, and never end the quarrel with the Redeemer over how life is to be lived? That is a tragedy large enough to swallow a nation alive -- and that, since I am from the land of Luther, Handel, and Brahms, but born in 1938, I know for certain!
"But not for you, my dear, not for you ... ach, mein Gott, Sie dank!"
He was overcome with joy to the point that he needed a few moments to collect his composure and his English.
"You chose to see and hear and follow the call of love and wisdom into this first year of your peace ... a full year though of course circumstances have rolled and changed, but your ground is now protected peace, and you are settled on it now.
"Do you not also see that you are, here, being prepared to know that you can meet, and go through, the great natural grief that must come to you ... the loss of your mentor, and the peace and protection and care you have experienced, gives you insight that you will need to face the loss of your grand old soldier and your parents? All the way from doing what you had to do and choosing grief, in 2022, in order to reach this peace, all these gifts, in going, have been given you ... and there is so much more yet to come, through all circumstances that are ahead of you, as you continue to walk, abide, adorn, and appear, on this ground."
He stopped again, and I was glad, because that was a whole lot, but it was all good ... on looking back I could see what he was pointing out, and I could consider a year spent in peace ... and then consider him, completely overjoyed, and realize just from that the magnitude I could not at the moment grasp.
Alas for his English, however ... and also gravity began to loose its grip!
Mein Herz jubelt für dich ... mein Herz jubelt für dich ... ach, mein geliebtes, mein goldenes Blumenkind, meine liebe Dame, mein Herz jubelt für dich ... ."
"Hello, is this the FAA?" I kidded, and he broke out laughing. "I think we're going to have a rocket launch right out of Golden Gate Park in 5, 4, 3, 2 ... ."
But since his arms were around me, mine also were around him, and I held him down as we sat on that bench ... little wonder gravity was about done with him ... even light and color themselves, with this much joy in their vicinity, were almost overfull!
I was laughing too, and made happy, and found it sweet how he would just get almost settled down and then think of something else and just get tickled all over again ... to think that love of another person could put anyone in such joy that they could not contain it ... .
"But consider it, Frau Mathews -- why should that not be? If I do not think your happiness is in competition with mine, if I do not think good is scarce, if there is 'plenty good room' at the top, to put it in your ancestral terms of the Negro Spiritual, and the more the merrier there to rejoice and celebrate and give glory to the One Who called and led and prepared and gifted -- if I know the depth of the tragedy you have also escaped as a human being -- if I am wise, and I love you, why would I not be overjoyed, to see you blessed in the path of more blessing?"
"There's the rub," I said. "But I am in a better circle now; it is not as rare as I thought it was."
That funeral and that weekend, though of course full of grief, was full of wisdom and love ... peace and light and hope ... and embracing and being embraced in all of that. I had much gratitude and joy even through the grief.
"This is a good time for me to share the gift I have for you, Frau Mathews, for today. May I see your phone for a moment?"
He pulled up the story of Jozef Elsner, best known as Chopin's composition teacher who was not threatened by the student who would eclipse him ... who instead loved and nourished the man he called a musical genius, and also nourished many other of Chopin's peers who are being rediscovered now.
But Elsner himself, living through the classical all the way into the mid-Romantic periods, was a wonderful composer who is being rediscovered, and he represents himself powerfully and peacefully in his Te Deum. That was quite a gift of discovery for me, and fitting for this day and season of gratefully receiving the best of gifts!
All the moments of light and shade ... the establishment of such utter joy and peace and rejoicing in shared praise ... the turn into the minor key for the Miserere portion, but with the surety that even there, the mercy asked for will be and is received, and the closing joyous affirmation of trust is exquisite.
"That was such a perfect summary of our lessons," I said. "*Danke schön!"
"Bitte schön."
I was so relaxed after that I might have fallen asleep in the summer sunshine, but very late autumn and winter sunshine simply do not have that kind of staying power -- the sun would be off our position in minutes. Nonetheless, my companion, seeing me so completely relaxed, put both arms around me and smiled.
"Please forward my formal apologies to the FAA, Frau Mathews."
I blinked, and in the next moment we were on a bench with more sun time, and much nearer where there was a bus that would have me home in minutes when at last sunset approached.
"With winter weather having surprised San Francisco with an on-time appearance, we need to maximize your sunshine time, mein goldenes Blumenkind," he purred.
"I am of the same mind, and content with your arrangement today," I said. "Danke."
"Gern geschehen, Frau Mathews," he purred.
"Thank you for understanding this time for me, between love and grief and Christmas," I said. "I know you had a different plan and would have been stuffing me with German treats and singing all the music of the season, but ... thank you ... danke schön ... for walking with me tenderly through this time."
"Natürlich," he said. "Quiet as is it kept, many grieve at this time, for death and loss do not care what humans have put upon the calendar and have bound themselves and would dictate to others that they must celebrate. But if you understand what is truly to be celebrated, there is no need to do anything but appreciate the meaning of Immanuel, wherever we are in life."
"God, in His saving, sustaining love, choosing to be with us," I said, "in all our joys and all our sorrows. He does not demand of us all that goes with holiday cheer and the expectations of pleasing mortals with all our performances and expenditures -- He is the Gift, Himself, for all who will believe on Him."
"And sometimes, Frau Mathews, as you observed at the beginning of your writing, death offers us the opportunity to put down all that is not of reality and see and embrace what is. Gifts in gifts, for those blessed and blessed. Wir sind gesegnet, und ... ."
"Wir sind selig," I said. "Blessed and blessed."
"Frohe Weihnachten, Frau Mathews."
"And a merry Christmas to you too!"
