Uma novena perpétua para as pessoas afetadas pelo COVID-19

Em nome do Pai, e do Filho, e do Espírito Santo.

Jesus Cristo, você viajou por cidades e vilas “curando todas as doenças e enfermidades”. Ao seu comando, os doentes foram curados. Venha em nosso auxílio agora no meio da disseminação global do coronavírus, para que possamos experimentar seu amor curativo.

Cure aqueles que estão doentes com o Coronavírus. Que eles possam recuperar sua força e saúde através de cuidados médicos de qualidade.

Cure-nos do nosso medo que impede as pessoas de trabalharem juntas e os vizinhos de ajudarem-se uns aos outros.

Cure-nos do nosso orgulho, que pode nos fazer reivindicar invulnerabilidade a uma doença que não conhece nem respeita fronteiras geopolíticas.

Jesus Cristo, curador de todos, fique ao nosso lado neste tempo de incerteza e tristeza.

Esteja com aqueles que morreram por causa do vírus. Dai-lhes Senhor o descanso eterno. E que a luz perpétua os ilumine. Descansem em paz. Amém.

Esteja com as famílias daqueles que estão doentes ou que morreram. Enquanto se preocupam e sofrem, defenda-os da doença e do desespero. Que eles possam conhecer sua paz.

Esteja com os médicos, enfermeiros, pesquisadores e todos os profissionais médicos que procuram curar e ajudar as pessoas afetadas e que se colocam em risco no processo. Que eles conheçam sua proteção e paz.

Esteja com os governantes de todas as nações. Dê a eles a compaixão de agir com caridade e verdadeira preocupação com o bem-estar das pessoas a quem elas servem. 

Dê a eles a sabedoria para investir em soluções de longo prazo que ajudarão a se preparar ou evitar futuros surtos de doenças como esta. Que eles conheçam sua paz enquanto trabalham juntos para alcançá-la na Terra.

Seja aqui mesmo no nosso país ou no exterior, ao redor de muitas pessoas que sofrem desta doença ou apenas algumas: Jesus Cristo, fique conosco enquanto perseveramos e lamentamos, persistimos e nos preparamos. No lugar de nossa ansiedade, nos dê sua paz.

Jesus Cristo, cure-nos!

Pai Nosso que estais nos Céus, santificado seja o vosso Nome, venha a nós o vosso Reino, seja feita a vossa vontade assim na terra como no Céu. O pão nosso de cada dia nos dai hoje, perdoai-nos as nossas ofensas assim como nós perdoamos a quem nos tem ofendido, e não nos deixeis cair em tentação, mas livrai-nos do Mal.

São Miguel Arcanjo, defendei-nos no combate, sede nosso refúgio contra a maldade e as ciladas do demônio. Ordene-lhe Deus, instantemente o pedimos, e vós príncipe da milícia celeste, pelo Divino Poder, precipitai ao inferno a satanás e a todos os espíritos malignos, que andam pelo mundo para perder as almas.

Ave Maria, cheia de graça, o Senhor é convosco, bendita sois vós entre as mulheres e bendito é o fruto do vosso ventre, Jesus. Santa Maria, Mãe de Deus, rogai por nós pecadores, agora e na hora da nossa morte.

Amém.

A perpetual novena for those affected by COVID-19

Recently, when I was scrolling through Twitter, someone wanted to know if there were any organized prayer campaigns for those affected by the Coronavirus. I don't know of any, but starting one certainly is a wonderful idea. Since then I have been wanting to start something of the sort (or join it if it already exists-- to no avail as of this post). Since I couldn't find a prayer campaign to join, I have started my own.

Today, the following text was published in my parish's GroupMe. With the additions I have made to it, I plan to use this as the text of a perpetual novena (indefinitely repeating 9-day cycle of prayer: day 1, day 2, ..., day 8, day 9, day 1, ...., indefinitely repeating) for all those affected by COVID-19: patients, family, friends, researchers, and medical professionals. I invite all of you reading this post to join in the perpetual novena with me (the text will be below), and to share this so that

a.) more people can join this campaign of prayer for the sick those who care for them; and
b.) the sick those who care for them will know that they are not alone in this fight, and that we will be praying with and for them in this very difficult time.

I'm not sure there's much else I can do to help in the response to the outbreak,  but at the very least, I assure everyone of my prayers.

Text of the Perpetual Novena for the Intercession of St. Luke to Contain the COVID-19 outbreak

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus Christ, you traveled through towns and villages “curing every disease and illness.” At your command, the sick were made well. Come to our aid now in the midst of the global spread of the coronavirus, that we may experience your healing love.

Heal those who are sick with the virus. May they regain their strength and health through quality medical care. Heal us from our fear which prevents nations from working together and neighbors from helping one another. Heal us from our pride which can make us claim invulnerability to a disease that knows no borders.

Jesus Christ, healer of all, stay by our side in this time of uncertainty and sorrow.

Be with those who have died from the virus. Eternal rest, grant unto them O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Be with the families of those who are sick or have died. As they worry and grieve, defend them from illness and despair. May they know your peace. Be with the doctors, nurses, researchers and all medical professionals who seek to heal and help those affected and who put themselves at risk in the process. May they know your protection and peace.

Be with the leaders of all nations. Give them the foresight to act with charity and 

true concern for the well-being of the people they are meant to serve. Give them the wisdom to invest in long-term solutions that will help prepare for or prevent future outbreaks. May they know your peace as they work together to achieve it on earth.

Whether we are home or abroad, surrounded by many people suffering from this illness or only a few, Jesus Christ, stay with us as we endure and mourn, persist and prepare. In place of our anxiety, give us your peace.

Jesus Christ, heal us.

Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.

Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.

Amen.

Today is a day of great joy! We have a new Archbishop!

What happened 
Today is a day of great joy! We the people of Atlanta once again know we will have an archbishop! Thursday morning, at 10:00 Rome Time (4:00 Atlanta time), Pope Francis announced the name of our next Archbishop after an 11-month period without one, during which there was a long and complex process to choose the next Archbishop. The search is over, and the results of the search for the next Archbishop became public on Thursday! Welcome back to Atlanta, Archbishop-Designate Hartmayer! 

We don’t quite technically have an Archbishop yet (and I’ll explain why later in this post), but news has come from the Holy Father, through his representative in the United States, our Nuncio, Archbishop Christophe Pierre, that Archbishop-designate Hartmayer, until now bishop of Savannah, will be installed here in Atlanta as Atlanta’s eighth bishop (and seventh archbishop) on Wednesday, May 6th, 2020! As Archbishop-designate Hartmayer prepares to return to Atlanta and as the day of his installation here comes ever closer, let us pray for our Archbishop-elect, that he may be as good and loving a shepherd to us as he has been to the people in his previous diocese, Savannah, for 8 years, and that he may be warmly welcomed back to Atlanta. Archbishop-designate Hartmayer previously served as pastor in two parishes here for 16 years prior to his appointment to Savannah.

The announcement was the answer to the prayer of almost a million and a half of the faithful of North and Central Georgia. I checked daily if the Holy Father had appointed us a new archbishop, and, when I would see that, no, we didn’t have one, I would pray for the future archbishop and for those in charge of selecting him. When I checked on Thursday, I assumed that, as was the case for the last 11 months, I would be wrong once again and we would not have a new archbishop announced that day. But alas, I was wrong, and this was a great example of one of the cases when it's so good to have been wrong!

In fact, right now, if I Google “does Atlanta,” Google immediately suggests “does Atlanta have a new archbishop.” I guess if you Google something every day for 11 months like I did, Google will have a pretty good idea of what searches to suggest. This actually isn’t a new blog post. I wrote this blog post months ago, when I assumed that this vacancy would take about as long as “normal” to fill: that is, about 8 months from vacancy to installation. As it turns out, from initial vacancy to installation, Atlanta will have been vacant for 13 months (April 2019 to May 2020)—much longer than any vacancy in any see in recent times that I know of.

What makes someone an Archbishop?
Like any bishop, in order to have “ordinary authority” to teach, govern, and sanctify the people of an archdiocese, an archbishop must have a letter from the Pope himself naming him the bishop of some see; in the case of an archdiocese, that sees’ ordinary is of the special rank called the “archbishop.” If anyone were to claim to be the (arch)bishop of an (arch)diocese but could not produce the letter that is signed and sealed by the Pope naming them as such, lacks the ordinary authority and is therefore not the legitimate (arch)bishop of the area. Further, any (arch)bishop appointed to a different see, or any priest appointed to a see who is not yet a bishop does not yet posses that authority until installation, but they will as soon as the installation is complete—more on how that works later.

Archbishops, in most cases are “metropolitan archbishops.” There are technical reasons in Canon Law explaining when that doesn't happen, but I won't go into them here. We in Atlanta have been in a metropolitan see since Atlanta became an Archdiocese back in the early 1960s, so, once installed, Archbishop Hartmayer will become a metropolitan archbishop. Before we became an archdiocese, we were a diocese for a few years, and for more than a century prior to that, from the 1850s to the 1950s, we were not our own diocese but rather a part of the Diocese of Savannah, which, for that century, covered the whole State of Georgia. Being made an Archdiocese in 1962 means we have since then been the metropolitan see of a province, thus the metropolitan archbishop is the head of the whole province. The province of Atlanta includes 3 states, within which there are five dioceses. In Georgia, we have the Archdiocese of Atlanta and the Diocese of Savannah. In North Carolina, we have the Diocese of Raleigh and the Diocese of Charlotte. In South Carolina, we have the Diocese of Charleston, which covers the whole state. In total, about 26 million people live in the province, of which just over 2 million are Catholic. 

The archbishop has full discretion to teach govern, and sanctify as the ordinary only in his archdiocese (each of the other dioceses has its own ordinary bishop), but he is a valued advisor to and close collaborator with all of the bishops in his province, even though he has no authority over the goings-on in those other dioceses under normal circumstances (that is, without the intervention and explicit direction of the Pope). To facilitate that collaboration within the province, all the bishops and the archbishop of a province meet usually at least once a year to give each other a report on how things have been. If there’s a particularly solemn liturgical event (a groundbreaking of a new church, an ordination, the dedication of a cathedral or other church, the consecration of a new bishop, or some other event of the sort), the archbishop of the province almost certainly will be involved, and may even be tasked with leading it. 

   

Installing a new Archbishop seems really complicated. What’s going to happen?

Back to Atlanta, what will happen in order to actually install Archbishop-designate Hartmayer in a few weeks during the Mass of Installation will be fairly complicated, so here's a crash course of what to expect at St. Peter Chanel in Roswell on Wednesday May 6.  If you can't make it to St. Peter Chanel that day because of work, school, or another obligation, don't worry, since momentous occasions like this one will surely be streamed live on the Internet (and then archived on the live-stream site, or perhaps on YouTube or Vimeo). We know the date and place of the installation as of this post, but we do not yet know the time. 

Here’s how things will happen on May 6 when the installation occurs:

1.       A lot (and by “a lot” I mean “ several hundreds”—maybe enough to fill almost half of the pews in St. Peter Chanel) of priests, deacons, and other bishops will file into the cathedral in procession, with the new Archbishop-elect at the back. The priests and deacons will mainly come from Atlanta and Savannah; bishops will been invited from all over the country, for sure, and maybe even from all over the world. 

2.       Mass will begin as it always does, once the procession ends, with the Sign of the Cross, and then with a greeting to summarize what will happen during the Installation Mass will follow. 

3.       No bishop can be ordained or installed anywhere without the permission of the Pope, in writing, always in the form of this letter. The original letter is in Latin, on parchment, signed and sealed by the Pope. The nuncio, who has the letter, will be called upon to read it.

4.       The Vatican’s Ambassador (called an Apostolic Nuncio), Archbishop Christophe Pierre, will read an English translation (and possibly also in Spanish and other languages) of said letter that contains the mandate to install the new archbishop.

5.       The letter will then be presented to the Archbishop-designate, who checks that the letter is legitimate by examining the wax seal, the personal seal of the Pope, found on the letter.

6.       He then takes it to the College of Consultors, a group of priests from Atlanta who helped early on in the selection process, and which he will now be the head of, for their inspection of that same seal for the same purpose of verifying the letter's authenticity.

7.       After that, he walks around the cathedral holding the letter high so that all can see it, and in once they do so, give the assent to the installation of their new Archbishop.

8.       Since he is already a bishop, he won’t need another ordination—in fact, that can’t happen; once someone is ordained a priest, they are ordained forever, and likewise when they are ordained a bishop (and thus when the man possesses the fullness of the priesthood, since only bishops can ordain). If we were dealing with a vacant diocese (or if we were receiving a new auxiliary bishop) to be headed by a bishop not yet ordained, the priest in question would be ordained a bishop at this point.

9.       The new Archbishop, his appointment having been assented to by his clergy and laity, is given a crozier. The crozier is the thing that he carries that looks like a shepherd’s staff--  in fact, that’s exactly what it is, and reminds both him and his people that he is a shepherd who guides a flock, who would be willing to lay down his life for his sheep (us) if it were necessary to protect them.

10.   Having been given the crozier, he is then escorted to a special chair in St. Peter Chanel. In this case, it won’t be the cathedra (since Christ the King’s cathedra's  back is literally built into the wall, there will be a special chair for Archbishop Hartmayer to sit on, but it won’t be the cathedra, technically). The archbishop’s special chair in his cathedral upon which only he may sit is called a “cathedra” –from the same root as the the source of the word “cathedral,” the Latin word for "chair" —and it is a symbol of the teaching authority of the bishop or archbishop. Every diocese or archdiocese has at least one church with one of these chairs, the cathedral, and only the bishop or archbishop with ordinary authority can sit on that chair. No one who is not the ordinary bishop or ordinary Archbishop (Archbishop Hartmayer, once installed) can sit on the cathedra. So, since May, when our see became officially vacant, no one has sat on the cathedra. 

11.   At the moment he sits down on the chair in St. Peter Chanel, he officially becomes the eighth bishop and seventh archbishop of Atlanta, even though he will not technically have taken possession of his cathedra, and therefore, of his cathedra, but in doing so at St Peter Chanel, he will immediately assume ordinary authority to teach, sanctify, and govern in Atlanta. As they did when he processed with his mandate, the people once again will typically warmly welcome the new archbishop, now officially having taken possession of his see, with a round of applause.

From here, Mass will continue as normal, from the Gloria onward. Taking possession of the Cathedral and the cathedra therein will occur in a separate liturgical celebration a few days later.

12.   Sometime after June 29 this year, Archbishop Pierre will come back to Atlanta to present Archbishop Hartmayer with the pallium. The pallium is a woolen scarf-like garment worn only by metropolitan archbishops like Archbishop Hartmayer that symbolizes the yoke (the thing boxen wear out in the fields to pull carts and stuff). This garment, made from the wool of lambs blessed on the feast of St. Agnes in January is a reminder to the Archbishop and his people that the position of Archbishop is one foremost of service to his people, and that as a shepherd. However, not wearing the pallium between his installation and whenever he receives the pallium does not diminish either his rights or his obligations as an archbishop.  

Once again, welcome back to Atlanta, Archbishop-designate Hartmayer! We are praying for you! 

25 things I've learned from Pen-Pals 2.0

I'm two letters into a pen-pal exchange with my best friend of almost three years. The last time I wrote a letter before my first letter to her, I was also writing to a (different) pen-pal, I think I was 7 (maybe 8), this blog didn't exist yet, I was significantly more than a foot shorter than I am now, and I legitimately believed Brazil and South America were one and the same. I wrote one letter to that second-grade pen pal (from, oh, probably 3 classrooms down the hall, but we mailed it anyway to get the experience of addressing an envelope), and I still have the letter I received in reply in my room today.

Now that I'm back into having pen-pals (and I have the accumulated wisdom of almost 19 years of life, rather than 7 or 8), here are 25 things I've learned from Pen-Pals 2.0.

1.       Hearing from someone you care about in a letter is really gratifying, as is being able to write your pen-pal back to, among other things, thank them for caring enough to write to you.

2.       You will almost certainly discover you or your pen-pal have hidden talents when you write to each other about what life is like where you live, especially if you’re far from your pen pal.

3.       Writing is such a rewarding experience, as is receiving a reply.

4.       Writing letters will help you want to write more in other contexts.

5.       Save your letters so you can reread them later to see the growth in the friendship between you and your pen-pal months or years after the letter was originally written.

6.       Texting is great but communicating in writing with full sentences really shows that you care.

7.       It’s just as easy to get lost in though and write a ten-page letter as it is to lose track of real time and have a four-hour conversation about literally everything if you’re writing to the right person.

8.       Writing is an incredibly effective way to keep, and even strengthen, a friendship over long distances.

9.       It’s perfectly OK to have to stop and think about how to address an envelope. In fact, if the first time in ten years you send a letter is the first letter to your pen pal, you will stop and think about how to address an envelope.

10.   It’s perfectly OK to have to be a comp sci major who sets up three scenarios (best, average and worst) to find a “zone of probability” to figure out where your letter could possibly be, either inbound or outbound, without a tracking number.

11.   Cherish the experience of reading and writing to each other and hope that you’ll meet up soon. It’ll be worth the wait.

12.   Writing will lead you on a journey of self-discovery as you tell your pen-pal about yourself.

13.   Write as often as you can.

14.   Writing should never be a chore. If you pick the right pen pal, it never will be.

15.   If you have the opportunity to communicate with your pen-pal through additional means, do so as often as possible so your friendship can extend beyond just the letters you write.  

16.   The stronger your friendship with your pen-pal, the easier it is to write.

17.   Waiting for a reply or notification that your pen pal received your letter can feel like you’re a kid again, waiting for everyone to wake up so you can open presents on Christmas morning.

18.   You will be thinking of things to write to your pen-pal in your next letter beginning immediately after you send your current letter.

19.   Your pen-pal will be thinking of things to write to you in their next letter beginning immediately after they send you their current letter.

20.   Writing is relaxing.

21.   Especially if you save the letters, you’ll probably recall what was said in a previous letter in either a future letter or in a conversation, maybe months after the letter.

22.   Your pen-pal may become your best friend, and your best friend may become your pen-pal

23.   Write on Thursdays if that doesn't keep your pen-pal waiting too long. That way, you can enjoy the #throwbackthursday aspect of doing something that probably stopped being commonplace when your grandparents were your age, well before phones, smartphones, or social media.

24.   You’ll start measuring time in terms of how often you and your pen-pal write to each other.

25.   Write a letter—not an email, not a text, a letter— to someone at least once in your life.

The Rediscovered Violin Concerto and the Sleeping Symphonic Giant

In the span of 10 days, I’ve listened to one of the United States’ best orchestras, my own hometown Atlanta Symphony, tackle two periodic archetypes of Ludwig van Beethoven’s work. I have heard them play the definitive archetype of his late period, but I have so much to say about that hour-long composition that, well… you’ll just have to wait until I release a book about it.

Historians of Beethoven typically subdivide the work of Beethoven into three periods: early, heroic, and late. The early period features (generally) simpler, shorter compositions, many of them for piano that are very closely stylistically linked to his teachers Haydn and Salieri, beginning when the young pianist moved to Vienna in 1792 (permanently, that is; he’d been in Vienna a short time before but was recalled to Bonn when his mother fell ill in 1789-90). Not very many published works with Opus numbers came out of this period during which Beethoven’s main focus was establishing himself as one of Vienna’s great concert pianists, and, particularly, as one of its great improvisers, a fact that will become massively important in the two later periods. One of the most famous works to come out of this period was the First Symphony, written between 1795 and 1800, premiered in 1801, and published in 1802.

There’s no set date at which the early period ends, but I tend to peg it at around the summer/fall of 1802, when, while Beethoven retreated to the vineyard resort town of Heiligenstadt, Beethoven wrote to close relatives to tell them just how desperate he was: his music, and the effect that art had on others, was the only thing holding him back from suicide. This period, though it was clearly dark (it involved gradual hearing loss, chronic illness, lots of drinking, financial struggles, and custody battles with siblings and cousins over the care of Beethoven’s minor relatives, all of which he lost), was an incredibly fruitful one. Many of Beethoven’s great works, like his Third through Eighth Symphonies, three of his five piano concertos, and several others came out of this incredibly busy period. Despite how dark and traumatic the experiences of this period are, it was indeed at this time when Beethoven wrote some of his most tender music.  

After the premiere of the Eighth Symphony, Beethoven essentially fell away from the Viennese concert scene for about a decade, from 1813 to 1824. The premiere of the Eighth marks the end of the heroic period and the beginning of the late period; one of the most iconic melodies ever written came out of this period, in the 1824 Ninth Symphony. This was, of course, the Ode to Joy, a theme in the works since the early period. I won’t go into much more detail about it here because if I did, I kid you not, this blog post would approach 200 pages. However, I will mention that there is a marked shift in the character, instrumentation, and ensemble size of this period that completes the revolutions begun in the two earlier periods so that, by Beethoven’s death in 1827, the Romantic era was in full swing, and the likes of Schubert, Schumann, and Medelssohn were laying out the Germanic Romantic foundation.    

Now that we have the necessary context, we can discuss the concerts themselves. The first of the two concerts, though anachronistically, was the presentation of the 1805-06 Violin Concerto, which, together with the Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Mendelssohn, and Bruch form the core of the essentials of the Romantic solo violin repertoire. Any one of these concerti would be a Mount Everest to conquer in their own rights, but the Beethoven presents itself to be particularly difficult now. First, for me, particularly, any Beethoven is an Everest with massively high expectations which were all blown out of the water by the recent concert. From his beginnings as prodigious teenage organist and violinist in the court of the Elector of Bonn, Ludwig van Beethoven was always a deeply emotionally and intellectually complex musician, and the many colors of his personality all shine through at some point in the Violin Concerto, right around the middle of his published creative output, labelled Op 61. Today, the Violin Concerto is universally acclaimed as one of Beethoven’s masterpieces and one of the finest Romantic concerti ever written, but that was certainly not always the case. The premiere came on December 23, 1806, almost two years to the day before the concert in the winter of 1808 that featured the public premieres of the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies, the Choral Fantasy (essentially a piano concerto with an added vocal component), the Fourth Piano Concerto, and many other works today held as masterworks, all in a four- to five-hour concert. After that 1806 premiere, it is unlikely that Beethoven ever heard his Concerto in public again, for two reasons. First, his increasing (and eventually total) deafness by the end of his career prevented from hearing anything—so much so that Carolina Unger, a 21-year-old soprano, who would have been 3 years old when the Concerto premiered, apparently walked over to the composer and literally turned his body around so he could at least see the applause at the end of his final symphony’s premiere. I will admit that this story may not necessarily be true though, even if the person who did this was not Unger, it’s very likely that someone did at least give him some indication of the audience’s reaction on that May night in 1824. Granted, his deafness in 1806 was certainly not as complete in 1806 as it was by 1824; however, the Heiligenstadt Testament predates the Concerto, so we know he was already struggling with (and struggling to come to terms with) his increasing deafness. Though his deafness provides a literal reason why he could not hear future performances, there is perhaps another. In research I have done, I have not been able to find any evidence of performances of the Concerto after the 1806 premiere and the 1844 “re-premiere” by Mendelssohn and a very young (12- almost 13-year-old) Josef Joachim at the Royal Philharmonic Society, an organization intimately linked with the commissioning of many of Beethoven’s masterworks. I call the 1844 performance the “re-premiere” because, after the 1806 “actual” premiere, which was hardly a success, the work effectively fell off the face of the planet until this 1844 performance. This performance not only catapulted Joachim’s stardom further than it had ever been, it returned the Beethoven Concerto to the limelight and, in the first public performance since the premiere (38 years prior) and the composer’s death (17 years prior), enshrined it as one of the 19^th century’s greatest concertos and Joachim as one of the era’s greatest instrumentalists forever. Quite literally, a pre-teen made possible that concert and so many others, and because of him, millions of people have come to know, cherish, and love the Beethoven Concerto, especially us violinists. Unlike the pianists, who have five excellent concerti by Beethoven from which to choose, we only have this one, so we hold it particularly dear to our hearts.

The following concert, just this past weekend, was in a small, intimate concert hall not too far from campus, in downtown Covington. I always find it beneficial to hear music in small spaces like that one because the smaller spaces allow the more extreme frequencies to be more easily heard because those frequencies need only be carried over a shorter distance to the listener. Further, the size of the concert hall gave this concert a much more intimate feeling than the others I’ve been to—which were stellar in their own right—and made me feel an even deeper personal connection with Beethoven than I already did before because I was hearing his music in a place much like where he would have heard his music.

Director James Gaffigan did a wonderful job of explaining when this archetypal selection was from. The First Symphony was written sometime between 1795 and 1801, premiered in 1801, and was published in 1802. 1802 roughly denotes the end of Beethoven’s first period of output—his early period. The music of this period is very reminiscent of that of the earlier Classical masters Mozart, Haydn, and Salieri. Of that list, we know for sure Beethoven met and studied with the latter two, but we have no idea if Beethoven and Mozart met. It is possible, since Beethoven was about to turn 21, well-known, and already in Vienna in December 1791 when Mozart died. This work tends to be called one of Beethoven’s more conservative works, but the revolution that becomes desperately apparent in the Third, Fifth, and Ninth Symphonies is already hinted at in this early work.

From the very beginning, this is a symphony of ambiguity. It sets a precedent followed later by three of the following eight symphonies (4, 5, and 9) of either starting in the “wrong” key (i.e., not the declared key) or opeining with a chord structure that makes it impossible to tell what key the composition is actually in. Until about 1:30, we don’t hear a root position I chord (the strongest form of the strongest chord, that tells us exactly where “home” is) at all, and it’s not until after 1:50 into the first movement that it becomes obvious that, indeed, that chord that arrived so late is the I chord, by the introduction of what I call the “heroic theme” in measure 33. Having to go through an introduction in two parts, the first 12 bars of which are completely tonally ambiguous and the next 20 of which are only slightly clearer, before establishing the main theme and key of the movement only in the 33^rd bar would have been unthinkable to Mozart or Haydn, and therefore also to the average Viennese listener. Since the first theme doesn’t really come in until bar 33, we can begin our analysis of sonata form there; what follows the initial heroic theme is the often-paired “lyrical theme,” in this case, in the dominant. Introducing the heroic theme first and then the lyric theme is one of the few conventions Beethoven keeps in his sonata form writing throughout his symphonic oeuvre.

The second movement in a Mozart or Haydn symphony would have typically been a slow movement, but Beethoven breaks this convention twice over. First, the movement is marked at 120 eighth notes per minute, quite fast for a “slow” movement. This notion that not every symphony needs a proper lyrical adagio movement that, as my friends say, “hits the feels,” is one he’ll come back to in his Eighth, where his slowest movement (which isn’t actually slow, when you think about it) is an homage to the work his friend Johann Maelzel, the recent inventor of the metronome. 

The third movement, until now ordinarily a minuet, a courtly French dance from the 18^th century, is still a triple-time dance like the minuet, only it’s much longer, more difficult, and grander than Mozartian symphonic minuets. Some people will argue this is still a symphonic minuet. Others argue it’s what they call a protoscherzo—larger in scale than a minuet, but not quite as involved or dramatic as a later scherzo. Still others, pointing to the grandeur of the material, the relatively long composition (about 6 minutes, up to 50% longer than most other symphonic minuets of Mozart and Haydn), and, particularly, to the prominence of the wind instruments, will argue that in fact, this was already Beethoven’s first full-fledged orchestral symphonic scherzo. I find myself decidedly in the third group.

The finale (well, the whole work, but particularly the finale) is notable for its decidedly comedic approach to life. This is not only revolutionary, it is clearly indicative of the much happier times the composer was experiencing at this time compared to what his future would very soon have in store for him. None of the anguish of custody battles over nephews, deafness, rodents in apartments (true story), how he would pay his rent or get his food of his later years is in any way evident in this finale. The comedic nature of this work that so engages the listener is evident from the opening bars: Beethoven hints at the construction of the mixolydian mode in the “family” of C (so, therefore, G mixolydian), only revealing the scale one degree at a time, keeping things deliberately and playfully piano through this entire captivating revelation. However, once the scale, which forms a great portion of the material of the movement is unveiled, it’s off to the races in a comedic perpetuo mobile—“constant motion”—to the end of the symphony, which, unlike its beginning, is firm and decisively in the home key, bringing listeners back to where they always wanted to be and finally resolving the pervasive tension of the dominant seventh chord (which the already-mentioned mixolydian mode contained, and was outlined by) to the indisputable and comfortable tonic of C major. Even despite this return to conventionality in the finale, the floodgates of change had already opened, and indeed, the European gentry certainly would not be ready for anything this titan of the West would produce for them through the rest of his career.

Cotton Jack, in Memoriam, 4/1/07-11/1/19

Just before noon, I saw a text from my mom. “It’s important,” she had said. The phone call that followed was one of my lowest moments in months. Our beloved, Cotton, had passed away at the veterinary hospital this morning. Twelve years, seven months. That’s how long he was with us for; most of that time with either us or one of our closest family friends. I started working on this tribute to our beloved Cotton about two hours after that phone call, and I’ve been in tears the whole time; today will undoubtedly be one of the hardest days in recent memory.

As second grade was approaching, I thought I was responsible enough for a pet, so I wanted to adopt a shelter pet. My parents made a deal with me: turn eight and assume primary responsibility (in all things except the financial realm; i.e, assume responsibility for feeding, watering, bathing, medicating, etc.) for the pet’s care, and I could get a pet. About six months prior to the date my parents and I had agreed, the aforementioned family friend moved to a new apartment, where only one dog was allowed in each unit. One dog stayed with her, we know almost nothing about the whereabouts of the second dog, and the third was Cotton. She faced two choices: either give him up to a shelter, where someone she wouldn’t know would hopefully take him, or give him to me a few months before I was technically allowed to have a pet by the terms of the initial agreement. Having weighed the possibilities and seen that I was probably responsible enough already, my parents allowed me to bring him home in late August of 2008. Here’s a picture we took on that day. He’d gotten out of the car immediately prior to this, and, of course, because I was only 7, I guess I didn’t realize that “young dog + open door - restraints = dog running away.” Luckily, my parents were all the wiser, and they were ready to catch him before he’d gone too far; over the next 11 years, he’d get to know that front lawn very well. We took a few pictures on our driveway before bringing him inside his new home for the first time. Here’s one of them, taken as soon as I realized my mistake (note that the leash isn’t clipped, so the only thing holding him back were my arms):

  By this point, he was already house-trained (thanks to our friend), but like any adolescent-age-equivalent dogs (or adolescent humans, for that matter), was quite the rebel. Our friend had adopted from a shelter in the North Georgia mountains when he was only a few weeks old: what I’ve been told is that Animal Control found him with another dog—a possible sibling— in the middle of the woods somewhere near the shelter, but that they weren’t up for adoption together. One-year-old golden/chow mixes can be pretty… what’s the word?... rebellious, shall we say. Those of you who are equestrians will know what I mean when I say he was really “green”—full of energy and a desire to do stuff, but not always the best at directing such energy in a constructive manner. So, we took our 45-pound bundle of energy and joy to Dog School. There, he successfully learned “sit,” “no,” “wait,” and “watch.” Before this, I remember spending weekends in the mountains with our friend (before the move, while all three dogs were together) and seeing all of them literally attempting to climb trees after squirrels or whatnot, as if they were cats. That’s one thing the training never got rid of: the idea that he was either nimble enough to climb a tree or should preen himself, in either case because I think he believed he was a cat. While in training, he met a Long-Haired Chihuahua named Simon, who also lived in our neighborhood and who loved to take walks around the same time we did, so the two of them bonded really quickly and became great friends.

We found a veterinarian for him, and that vet gave him a new type of food and a pill to take once a month. On top of that, he suggested that we change his main feed brand. Cotton wouldn’t eat, at least not very much, and not without much coaxing. Enter the secret weapon: grated Parmesan. I’m not sure how we found out about this preference, but it almost certainly wasn’t by a deliberate choice to give him cheese. Let’s be honest, I was probably distracted, and instead of getting his food (from an addition off the kitchen), I probably went to the kitchen and grabbed some cheese, then inexplicably gave it to him. Anyway, the cheese saved us, and he would eat both kinds of food. Then, he decided to go on strike, and refused to eat his “normal” food, opting just for a special formula of larger kibble meant to clean his teeth. He always loved t/d while we fed it to him, but we needed to get him a little more balance in his diet, since at one point he would only eat t/d, that special tooth-cleaning formula. Enter cheese once again. A second time, putting a little grated cheese over his kibble made all the difference. He got much better about this as he aged. A little cheese was always welcome when we switched feed brands—even when we were just switching flavors, and for most of his life, cheese must have meant: “either the humans think I did something good, or we’re having some sort of party.”

Going back as far as I can remember, he had this favorite pose, the “English Aristocrat Awaiting Afternoon Tea,” as we called it, in which he’d essentially copy the pose of the Sphinx at Giza, except he’d cross his front legs at the wrist and look up lovingly at the nearest human. Most dogs would probably be afraid of humans taking off shoes or slippers near them—not Cotton. No, he saw those things as prime belly-rubbing implements, and would in fact seek out one of his humans when we were putting on or taking off our shoes so that we’d indulge him in a belly rub. He was OK with shoes, but what he really wanted were slide-on sandals. Waking up and seeing him likely before I saw either of my parents most mornings was always a highlight of my day, and getting some quality time with him while I made my breakfast each morning was great. He loved nothing more than time with us, and I know the feeling was mutual.

I’m a mess right now, but something Konrad Lorenz wrote really rings true.  “The fidelity of a dog is a precious gift demanding no less binding moral responsibilities than the friendship of a human being. The bond with a dog is as lasting as the ties of the earth can ever be.” (Many Heartlanders out there will recognize this quote, and for those of you out there, I really feel as devastated as Jack did in episode 904.) Almost every year, in late spring, I’d leave Marietta behind, and, for two months or more, wouldn’t see Cotton, or play with him, or feed him, or do any of the things I loved doing with and for him because when I left Marietta, it was to travel south 10 hours by plane to Brazil to visit my relatives. When I would return in time for back-to-school shopping, it would always be like I hadn’t left at all, or I was only gone for a few hours. You know that feeling when you’re so close to another person, that even when you don’t see them for ages, it feels like you saw each other only yesterday? Whenever I went on vacation and left him in the care of either another family member or a kennel, then returned from that outing some time later, by his expressions, it always felt as if no time had passed. The bond that exists between a dog and an owner: one of total self-giving on the part of the owner, such that the owner will do anything for the dog; and of total surrender and unconditional trust on the part of the dog, such that the dog will never stop loving and trusting the owner, and in fact trying to grow that love and trust at any moment, is incredibly special, and I loved every day of those twelve special years we knew each other.

It truly was a great honor and privilege to love and care for Cotton all these years, and I’m a better person now because of my experiences with him. He really was the pet of a lifetime, and even though I’m devastated that he’s gone, I’m thankful beyond words for the good times we shared and the memories we made during these twelve years and seven months. Cotton, you brought joy to our lives every day, and you will be deeply missed. 

The Power of 300 Words

Yesterday, I was working on some homework for my Microeconomics class later today. It was nothing I hadn't seen hundreds of times before-- I had, after all, done many, many hours of practice with the material my sophomore year at Walton. Now, the PPC, opportunity cost, and competitive advantage are really easy. But back then, in the moment sophomore year, they weren't. I didn't immediately realize it, but I was really struggling. I remember not doing well on the first test; it's normal that the grade on the first assessment of the year is a little lower because everyone has a learning curve to the teacher's testing style. Then, came the second test; about the same grade. Then, the third; even lower. No amount of adjustments to the new material or teacher, or even bad days could explain that. It took a lot of courage on my part, but what I did around mid-February changed everything: I asked for help.

From then until right before the AP exam in May (like, literally maybe 24 hours before), my teacher was always there to answer any questions, work through any practice problems, or bounce off any ideas (that more often than not were very wrong), but she was willing to do those things nonetheless.  That made an impression: I mattered. No matter how many times I failed, she was always willing to help me get back up and get better. It's because of her help that I got a 5 on the AP Exam that spring, that I grew to love Micro, and that I feel really good about this Micro course I'm now taking here at Emory Oxford.

The homework brought back memories of those days in Econ, and of how grateful I was that she had helped me. So as soon as I finished the work I had, I sat down and wrote her an email thanking her for everything she taught me that semester-- and it wasn't just economics. Her impact was way bigger than that, and she deserved to hear that from me, to know that everything she did made a difference, that her dedication was noticed. It took me about 15 minutes to write, and writing that email has been the best thing I've done this week.

This morning, after I left my geology class, I checked my email before heading to the dining hall for lunch. She had responded, and what she said really made me thankful that I took the time to write the email. It's pretty clear from the email I got that she is deeply touched by what I wrote, that she's thankful that she had had an impact on my life, and that she's eagerly awaiting my next visit to Walton. Just having the sense that I made her day better by simply writing a quick email made my day immensely better as well.

I guess the point of the story is this: One of the most powerful things you can say to anyone is also one of the simplest. It's "thank you." As simple as it may seem, even to the point that some may see this as cliché, that phone call or letter may have a huge impact-- from brightening their day to changing their life. So if there's someone you've been putting off telling "thank you," whatever the reason, do it, and both your rewards and those for the person you thank will be manifold.