French Reflections

In January 2010, the Stonehill College Chapel Choir set out on its fourth European tour, heading for the first time to France. In addition to offering concerts in the Cathedral of Notre Dame and L'Eglise de la Madeleine in Paris, the choir traveled to visit Notre Dame du Chartres, and finally to Le Mans, the home of Blessed Basil Moreau, founder of the Congregation of Holy Cross. Through the local Holy Cross community in Le Mans, the choir visited Notre Dame du Sainte Croix, the church built by Fr. Moreau in the 19th century, and continued on to visit and sing for the elderly Marianite who inhabit at The Solitude, a reserve that includes the archives from the Congregation's origins. Our singing tour ended with a vigil Mass at the Cathedral of St. Julien in the old city of Le Mans.

Forty singers, including five Stonehill choir alum, journeyed together to witness what history set before us. We pondered human suffering and endurance in the Conciergerie, extravagant glory at Versailles, creative genius at the Louvre, and the glory of God as we toured and sang in the glorious French cathedrals. As I visited with my students on our bus rides and our walks up and down the streets of France, I asked what touched them the most. Some were clearly moved by the music that we sang as their voices resounded and echoed back to them in reverberated hymns of praise. Others raised questions on political and economic history and their effects on a country that clearly surpasses our own in matters of national health care, affordable higher education and an enviable sprit de corps of the people of France. As the students toured the cathedrals, several mused on mysteries revealed throughout the magnanimous period of human history that produced such an implausible witness of faith in the living God, and what these miracles of stone and mortar teach us about ourselves. More than a few students returned to the Louvre in their free time, to continue to explore the countless works of genius throughout the ages and offered a spontaneous concert on the steps of the museum for other tourists.

I discovered a leitmotif of profound wonder and joy within all of these conversations, which I believe can only be accessed through lived experience. I may tell my students that their voices will resonate in a vast cathedral, but unless they draw breath as they prepare to sing, create sound and wait for the reverberation to cease before they sing another phrase while sensing the music of the ages that resonate for centuries before them, their epiphany will not occur. These young scholars study the history, literature, politics and artistic ventures of particular periods of history, reflecting and writing about them as they search for truth and meaning. However, as my choir students placed their hands on the very stones that the laborers of Chartres hauled by hand from a quarry five miles away, or gazed upon the upward thrust of flying buttresses and exquisite stained glass at Notre Dame in Paris, classroom legends became a living testament of real people who birthed these wondrous glories of mortar and glass through human endurance and unparalleled faith. As we encourage students to evoke their senses through learning opportunities such as a choir tour, we offer them new possibility, to discover, learn and grow into the holy human beings that God has in mind for us all.

I considered this particularly as we visited Le Mans and the site of Blessed Basil Moreau, who believed that “the mind must not be cultivated at the expense of the heart.” As my students sang an Ave Maria in Notre Dame du Sainte Croix, prayed at the tomb of Fr. Moreau and toured the church where our Stonehill roots found their origin, one student reflected, “If it hadn't been for all of this, we would not be here. We would not have met.” Without the experience of standing in that church, I very much doubt that Fr. Moreau would be as real as he will be forever more in the heart of that student. The exuberance of the elderly Marianite sisters during our afternoon concert enkindled the embers of friendship that transcended language as religious women and Stonehill students joined in music making and elated encounter, bringing alive the Holy Cross charisms of hospitality and community. Borders disappeared as we sang the liturgy at Cathedral of St. Julien, collaborating with the cathedral musicians in praise of our God, ignoring Arctic temperatures as hearts were warmed within the spirit of our shared faith. Singing for the hundreds of tourists who heard us at Cathedral of Notre Dame, L'Eglise de la Madeleine and at Cathedral of St. Julien stirred in all students a sense of Christian mission, igniting a spirit of faith which inspires and animates zeal and identifies us as the people of God.

For some of our students, choir tours will be their only experience of travel across the ocean during their academic careers, and will embark on a more profound journey of study because of their travel experiences. Others will find the inspiration and courage to step outside their borders and study abroad, exploring the world more deeply, traveling widely while they pursue academic discipline in a foreign country. Whatever the case may be, Stonehill choir tours offers our students an opportunity to engage spiritually, intellectually and bodily with the world, giving witness to Fr. Moreau’s vision of an education that fosters the widening of minds and the deepening of hearts.

A New Way for the Way of the Cross

In 1982, no computer software existed for composers. We scored everything by hand, including orchestra parts. The handwritten original manuscript of the Way of the Cross employed the majority of floor space on the family room floor of my parents’ home. The pharmacist that I happened to be dating at the time served as a pastoral musician for a parish in the north end of New Bedford. When I showed him the score, he literally scanned the entire floor saying, “I have an idea,” and invited me to perform the unfinished work as a Good Friday prayer service in his parish. Stations One, Two and Eight were still incomplete, so I hastily 'borrowed' works from several other artists to compensate and pull the work together for the event. I played recorder, guitar and piano on the other selections and asked an area musician to premier the cello score. Much of the oboe and string scores remained only a sketch in my head.
Word of a new work spread quickly throughout our small diocese, which prompted me to complete the score. Original music replaced 'borrowed' compositions; new manuscripts found their way into the hands of gifted players who loved and played the work into life. I became engaged to the pharmacist, who turned out to be a computer geek in his spare time and learned how to manuscript music with an early version of Music Write, providing clean and readable scores for the musicians who looked forward to Lent every year to meet and play the Way of the Cross. World Library Publication picked up an option to publish and distribute a recording of the symphonic version of the piece and married it to a collection of artwork that accompanied new prayer text. Within a twenty-eight year period of approximately 50 performances of the Way of the Cross in 32 locations, the pharmacist and I married, raised three children, became caregivers for aging parents and relatives, earned two masters degrees and multiple certifications in health care and religion, changed jobs between us several times, volunteered in our parish and schools where our children attended, became involved in city government, authored and published consistently in our respective fields, served on a number of boards and committees, faced a number of serious health issues, built several additions to our home, created and managed a business, maintained relationships with friends old and new, and managed to stay in love with each other and the Church, all through the grace of God.
Throughout their infancy and childhood, my children came to know Friday and Sunday nights in Lent as 'Stations concert” nights, when parishes would book the event and our family would hit the church trail. Sean, Tim and Martha learned how to set up music equipment, distribute programs at the door, manage a sales table, act as the cross bearer and candle servers for the liturgy, and socialize with people after a concert. Sometimes the events would produce a 'surprise' drama, like the time when a server arrived at the third station (Jesus Falls for the First Time) and decided that imitation really is the most sincere form of flattery and fainted because he forgot to eat prior to the service, breaking his jaw on the marble floor of the church (we packed up and went home without finishing that concert). Or the time when we took the fast ferry to Nantucket Island and got caught at sea in a blizzard that rocked our little boat so much that we all arrived sick the night of the concert (if anyone doubts that God possesses a sense of humor, they need only have gazed upon our green faces as we washed ashore that evening). Overall, my children grew to know this work intimately and developed a deep connection to this extraordinary gift of word and song that eventually became part of their anthropology, a way of life and a path to faith.
Our concert ensemble witnessed amazing grace, like the time that we waited for our cellist to arrive for a half hour before we realized that he was a no-show and gave the cello score and a second music stand to the violist, Jonne Gomes, (playing viola tonight) and watched in awe as he simultaneously and successfully played two scores in two different clefs (way to go, Jonne). In another concert, the page turner (my husband, Pat, who also doubles as second conductor, sound engineer, equipment mover, sales table manager and booking agent), got the flu and stayed home. It took the ensemble exactly one station into the concert to figure out that the page turner role was essential, when we realized that all of our hands were occupied playing our instruments and could not turn the pages of my full score so that I could sing and play the work. We all took turns that night, skipping measures of music here and there to flip pages. At another concert, I lost my voice at the beginning of the event and all the players took turns singing the notes they could reach and skipped the notes they could not sing. The concert mistress lifted the bow to her violin and issued her famous line: “Make it work”. And we did. Our concert ensemble family of players lost two cellists to early death; playing the Way of the Cross helped us to heal from those reeling events.
Several years ago, I suffered a number of health issues that resulted in the loss of vocal ability and placed me in the same shoes as a baseball player who can choose to keep trying to hit a ball with a bad arm or quit while people still remembered a great game. Like any death, I grieved the loss of my voice, a cherished friend, and reconciled the end of my singing career. I no longer sing publicly and prepared to face the fact that the Way of the Cross may no longer be possible as a live concert and heard only by those folks who purchased a recording of the work. Simultaneously, my daughter began to discover her own vocal gifts. As her own lovely singing voice developed, I considered that she may be the one to carry on the work that my husband and I began very innocently with that first concert. When Sheryl Walsh, the music director of St. John's in Attleboro asked if I would revive this concert piece, I asked my daughter if she would sing the score for tonight's performance, and she agreed. Listening to Martha sing the same music and lyrics that I did moves me in a way that surpasses singing the work myself. St. Paul got it right: “Eye cannot see, ear cannot hear what God has ready for those who love him.” Pat and I continue to marvel at the movement of the Spirit of God in our own lives that brought us to this point, to see our own faith life realized in the living witness of our own children. We can only wonder and give thanks at the gracious love of God, the giver of so many rich and beautiful gifts that nurture and sustain our lives within our deepest joys and sorrows.
I sing with the psalmist, “How shall I make a return to the Lord, for all the good God has done for me?” My thanks to the musicians who breathe life into this work. I extend my deepest gratitude to my family, who continues to walk the Way with me. I love you.