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Monday, December 31, 2007

Christmas ~ 2007

Christmas was. . . that one searing moment as I stood with 70 other choristers singing, with the heart of a little boy. . . or the heart of the old shepherd that I am, from Bach's Christmas Oratorio:

Here I stand at Your crib
I give you all I have:
Take all of me, I have no more to give.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

Berlin ~ Stuttgart ~ Black Forest

Late flight from Berlin, Schönefeld. Stuttgart airport brightly lit but hardly anyone inside. Short heartfelt goodbyes to Nikolaus, our gracious host, then walked away buoyed up. Mechtild and I headed for our Black Forest havens. Got into deep snow. Autobahn restaurant for coffee. Smoking forbidden. It was 3 a.m. when we finally arrived. Sat in the car and talked. What a trip! And there was still such a lot more to talk about.

Saturday Moning in Berlin ~

A Saturday morning. We breakfasted and went to the Sony Center, Berlin's spectacular new meeting place at Potsdamer Platz. Then for a change we all went our separate ways. I walked. And walked until I was out of the great city. Maybe it was too much for me, I thought. It felt good to be where kids were playing in the street. But I felt lonely. Like a stranger. All the pictures of Berlin in W.W.II came back, then the daring Airlift and the DC-3s flying overhead to keep the grandparents of these Berliners sustained. The Soviet presence so mightily stated in architecture and monuments. The Wall. The Reichstag and the shimmer of swastikas, the cafeteria where we had lunch, where outside in the courtyard the Graf Stauffenberg, after his unsuccessful attempt to assasinate Hitler, stood before a firing squad and was shot down. The bewildering burden of history during my own lifetime was suffocating.

I had walked so far that I had to hail a taxi and be driven back into the City Center where the group had planned to meet.

Saturday, December 08, 2007

Markus ~ Heart of the Group

Markus was the instigator of our trip. He wanted to get us together again after that great weekend last May in that quaint Black Forest hotel. In Berlin he is looking out for us, finding restaurants, subway connections, sites. He is the heart of the group. A great conversationalist, always delving into a interesting subjects concerning old school days. Open and frank, genuine; not shying away when a matter gets delicate. I marvel at my old student . . . but think I saw the man he is today in the teenager of yesteryears.

His children were always calling on the cell phone. Can't wait till he gets home. I understand. . .
Christmas 2008

I hung the decorations that Markus's daughter Johanna made for me on our Christmas tree.


Stephanie ~ At Home in Berlin


Stephanie, our Black Forest girl who ended up living and working in Berlin, joined us at this restaurant that evening. We knew she was very busy and might not make it. She had just had the unsavory task of handing out 15 notices to employees where she works. That done, she came.

What a charming young woman she is! She attracted our attention with her stories about how she had tried to cushion the bad news and reach mutual settlements. While telling, all her old warmth and heart came back. . . just like in the old days in the Senior class when both Nikolaus and Markus had had a crush on her. . . Didn't I see some light sparkling in their eyes again?

Friday, December 07, 2007

Night at the Theater ~ Berlin

Approaching the theater Nikolaus extended his arm saying: This has been my living room ever since I've been in Berlin! We went in, had cocktails, saw a remarkable Brecht play. Appreciative applause, scene for scene.

Afterwards over wine, Nikolaus surprised us with news that he will be making his first appearance in a Berlin cabaret next month.

Next day he took me to Brecht's house in the Chauseesstrasse for a private guided tour by a charming actress who was on stage the night before. The cemetery was near the house and we stood for some minutes at Brechts's unpretentious grave.

Holocaust Memorial ~ Berlin











It was evening and dark when we walked through this field of granite slabs. Eventually we were submerged and could not see out over. It seemed as if there was only one orientation to get my bearings from: Auschwitz.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

New National Gallery ~ Berlin


Next morning Mechtild and I headed for the National Gallery. We stood there looking at the sculptures outside around this building, especially this Henry Moore piece, for at least half an hour. Mechtild is a sculptress herself and it was wonderful to exchange views with her. Going inside, looking intently, we managed only four or five works, all sculptures.

Over coffee I leaned over, looked Mechtild in the eye told her how she could run rings around me as a teacher. What a smile she gave me!

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Class of '82 ~ Berlin


. . . and you're coming with us, they said. So here we are catching the evening flight from Stuttgart to Berlin. Already Nikolaus is waiting for us at Schönefeld. When you get here I'm taking you up to the restaurant on top of the TV tower at Alexanderplatz, he says. The visibility is great. We're going make a toast to Berlin . . . and to you!

Monday, December 03, 2007

Venezuela ~

It must have been a bitter awakening for President Chávez to have to hear that his people didn't want a dictator. That they would prefer democracy to him.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

Morning Prayer ~

I sit here thinking of the myriad possibilities of where I might be at this moment: in hospital bed or in a casino in Vegas, in a prison or in a shack on the Mexican border. But here I am in in this church rehearsing the sublime choral music of Johann Sebastian Bach for a Christmas concert.

How fortunate I am. . . And my heart soars toward You in gratitude.

Friday, November 30, 2007

For Tamara ~

For Tamara

When the light breaks through,
when our hearts beat with yours
Tamara dear,
then we know that we too
have been refined by the fires
of Auschwitz you knew
for our lives have changed,
having learned from you
and your hands' work
what faith, hope and love
can do.

Tamara Deuel : Auschwitz Survivor, Poetess, Sculptress.

We corresponded, each encouraging the other to focus on Auschwitz in our art, to keep Auschwitz alive in people's memory, especially in the young. 

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+ June 26, 2007

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Forlorn ~

Do the stars shine friendly down at me tonight blinking through such small radiant eyes, or are they cold? They seem to be holding back all the glory that is behind, dispensing of it in miserly measured portions.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Beauty ~

I look into faces and find that the most beautiful are those that have suffered most.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Christians ~


The Archbishop of Baltimore has ordered Father Ray Martin to resign as pastor of three churches and sign a statement apologizing for "bringing scandal to the church".




Father Martin was cited for the liturgical offence of celebrating a funeral Mass with several clergy including a very close friend of the deceased, Rev. Annette Chappell, pastor of the Episcopal Church of the Redemption. She read the Gospel.

He was also cited for the administrative offence of hiring a maintenance man who had criminal charges on his record.

My Lord! . . . we Catholics!

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Compassionate Bomb ~

I heard on the radio that the Russians have developed the most potent bomb in existence. It spreads less pollution and does less damage to the environment. Did I hear that right?

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Soothing Darkness ~

It was dark this morning and foggy. With my coat collar up around my ears I felt hugged and somehow protected. Walking across the fields I could see nothing but the path passing under my feet. In the distance the sound of cars rushing to their urgent destinations.
Oh darkness, stay! . . . How will I ever be able to face the bright, glaring days of spring when everyone is so happy and dancing blithely around the maypole?

Sunday, November 11, 2007

The Never-Ending Search ~

Deus, deus meus est, sollicite te quaero. Te sitit anima mea, desiderat te caro mea . . . Ps. 62

God, my God, I search for You with a disquieted heart. My soul longs for You, my flesh yearns for You . . .

I went to the old monk and asked him where I should look for my obscure God Who is always hiding from me. He turned to me, smiled and said: Everywhere.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Night of Broken Glass - November 9, 1938 [Burning of the Synogogues]

I often wonder if I would have had the inner strength and courage, had I been here in Germany then, to stand up against the omnipresent subtle magic and brutal terror of Hitler's seduction. I wonder. . .

Thursday, November 08, 2007

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Bent on Winning ~

Never liked sports or games where the point was to triumph over the other person. But often I heard them saying there must be something wrong with me.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

Listening ~ Hearing

It happened this evening. I was sitting in concert listening to a Haydn String Quartett when I felt the music changing everything around me, the sounds full of secrets and mystery. It was as if a door were opening into a white room and there was harmony and tranquility there and the feeling that everything I had ever hoped for had come true. And for a short moment I felt as if I were so much more than myself.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Acquiescence


In restaurants they took away all the ashtrays. And now even forbidden smoking in the bars. Have heard no complaints.

Gasoline sells for $7.10 a gallon. Everyone drives, and pays.

The railroads and subways go on strike once a week. Commuters take it in stride.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Envy

While driving this morning I listened to an inspired Clara Haskil play a Piano Concerto by Mozart and couldn't help but think how flabby my emotional equipage is in comparison with theirs.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

First Illusion ~

Mama was still in bed. We gave him a picture of her but instead of eating his breakfast he spent the whole time kissing her behind the picture glass.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Morning Visit

The red ball of rising sun shone across our lawn this morning to a bowl of geraniums at the dining room window and lit them with a soft, heated glow. During breakfast we felt their warmth and couldn't help but marvel at their radiant beauty.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Letting Go of Summer ~


Where has the summer gone? I see it now in the brown fields . . and feel it as I walk on the carpet of damp leaves under my feet on my path.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

God's Little Wonder

My son, Martin, and his Barbara just had a baby. We sped to them. I held the little fellow in the palm of my hand and fingered his black hair. Overwhelmed by the fresh arrival from heaven.

At the same moment I had to think of my father's head which I held for ten minutes in the palm of my hand until the heat had gone out . . .

Thursday, October 04, 2007

St. Francis of Assisi ~

Francis, the man who wanted to possess nothing . . . so that he could better love.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Plucked Away ~

My sister Nancy phoned to tell me that her husband, Rick, had died suddenly.
I thought back to our jaunt on a sunny Saturday just six weeks ago in his red convertible when he said: Come on, I'll take you to see your Perry Como. We were both in such high spirits.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Feast of St. Augustine ~

"Too late have I come to love You, O beauty so ancient and so fresh; too late have I come to You", you said. 

And centuries later I learned to love Him early, Augustine, sitting there as a teenager, reading your words, in the seminary chapel.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Frankfurt, Germany ~

I stepped onto the train in Frankfurt and it sped off to the south. The people seemed different, I heard the first sounds of German again. They were not Americans, they were going other ways, thinking other thoughts. Nevertheless, somehow I knew that I belonged here with them. It has become my home. . . Those whom I love are here. That, I know, is everything. What more could I want?

Over France into Germany

Ready for the new day I looked at the wing of that stalwart Boeing 777 and paid my thanks and respect to her for what she had done. Somehow I felt one with her. Descending slowly now, I knew she had brought me back.

Over the Ocean

Purring through the night across the ocean at an altitude of 12,000 meters and speeding at 850 km/h I sat in stillness writing these impressions. When morning light came I looked out across an endless majestic carpet of clouds on which landscapes of hills, towers and mountains were formed, all energized by a bright light only seen up this high. I thought the psalmist must have imagined a sight like this when he was composing his praises to God for his wonderful creation. With him I thanked God for all the beauty that He had allowed me to see.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Over the Ocean ~

The two ladies that sat behind me spoke with such a charming, lilting Southern accent that I had to cock my ear and listen. They talked until late into the night. All the while it seemed as if a gentle music were coming from behind.