Friday Flowers: Paschal White

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers (Poem 124)

(By Emily Dickinson)

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers -

Untouched by Morning - 

and untouched by noon -

Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection, 

Rafter of Satin and Roof of Stone - 

Grand go the Years, 

In the Crescent above them -

Worlds scoop their Arcs - 

and Firmaments - row -

Diadems - drop -

And Doges surrender -

Soundless as Dots, 

On a Disk of Snow.

Since today is Good Friday, I figured that we would celebrate the Easter festivities with some white flowers and poetry from Emily Dickinson. To be honest, this isn't one of my favorite from among her works, but, today, it feels right with me, more personally significant. I guess that I've been thinking of death a whole lot these past few months. ;-)

For Christian, this time of year is a reminder of the eternal life which we receive through God's grace and our faith in the death and resurrection of Jesus. In the early Church, the apocalyptic hopes of the faithful led them to believe that the End Times were upon them. As the years progressed, the Second Coming and Judgement Day started getting more remote into an unspecified future.

Sure, the Dead would rise to gain their final rewards, but the Son of Man left the believers waiting year upon year, century upon century. Grand go the years, without a peep from the Risen Lord. And still people wait, living their lives in preparation for a promised future life, losing opportunities in the Present with the hope of unimaginable treasures in the Future.

Bach to the Baroque

Detail from a Portrait of Johann Sebastian Bach (1748) by Elias Gottlob Haussmann

It would be a gross negligence, an injustice, if we didn't celebrate the birth date of the Baroque master, Johann Sebastian Bach, born on March 21, 1685.

My appreciation for Bach's music is beyond words, but, oddly, I don't get passionate about it. Whereas with Schubert or Mozart, I can endlessly praise or gush with enthusiasm, listing every precious compositional nuance, each moment of brilliance or inspiration. With Bach, I have no desire to champion his greatness.

Perhaps it is because Bach requires no champions. His music is so undeniably superb that I cannot even begin to imagine how anyone could not admire it. Perhaps it just isn't a particular listener's "thing" but, even so, they must be able to discern the quality, to value it intellectually, dispassionately.

The music is masterful in precision, balance, and progression. Cool and composed, the intricate sounds are the perfection of the Baroque.

Statue of Johann Sebastian Bach (1908) by Carl Seffner, in Leipzig

But I'll stop blathering and allow the music to state its case.