As anyone who's ever ridden the Metro in Boston knows, there's a sign on the wall along the blue line route that reads, "Outbound to Wonderland." Must be one helluva train, I thought to myself when I saw it. In that spirit of exploration, this is a blog of short essays on art, literature, law, economics, music, history, international relations, science...and everything else, too.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
And what would Rachmaninov think?
On the off chance that anyone ever doubted how genuinely pretentious and insufferable I really am, I offer as evidence of my folly, well, the title of this post for one, but also a description and discussion of the events that occasioned it:
Recently, during lunch in the cafeteria at the Foreign Service Institute, surrounded by some hundred or so of the various students and instructors, the recently repatriated bureaucrats and grandees, the defense contractors, trophy wives, functionaries, do-gooders and sundry other wandering souls who daily populate the campus of this country's premier foreign affairs training center, I decided to listen to some Rachmaninov. I don't know Rachmaninov's oeuvre especially well (of course, I don't know any composer's oeuvre especially well), and I only own one of his pieces, but it's a piece so surpassingly beautiful, so rich, so deft and fragile and desperate all at once, that I find I can go to it under almost any circumstance, in any kind of mood, for any reason, and find in it the holy uplift I seem eternally to need. Nor was this instance in the FSI cafeteria an exception--immediately, upon hearing the introductory burst of complex harmonies in the first movement of the work (which I came to know as the Vespers, but which is apparently also referred to as the All-Night Vigil), I had the following thought: This work requires me to celebrate even those who would denigrate it. Because of Rachmaninov, I must love those who do not love Rachmaninov.
I wrote those sentences down in a notebook, despite their clumsiness. And then I had another thought: This is a uniquely Christian formulation of meaning and order and essence.
The question though: is this last true? Was my thinking on the topic inescapably Christian? Is the instinct in question an instinct that transcends spiritual practices, religious institutions, sacred doctrines and dogma, and so on? Or is it possible that the idea of such enlightened magnanimity is the singular insight (I know some would say revelation) of Christianity, and one that has come definitively to shape our consciousnesses in the 21st Century western world?
Further, is this an empirical question? Can comparative religion scholars tell us what certain texts, the dates of which are generally well-established, say on the matter and thereby determine for us who thought what first? Will that get us past the slipperiness of all my quasi-mysticism and pseudo-neurology?
And what would Rachmaninov think? Probably nothing. Or, to put it better, probably this:
Labels:
art,
faith,
Rachmaninov,
vespers
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