By Maria Sermersheim
Meditatione Ignis
In honor of both St. Cecilia’s feast on the date of publication for this issue and a dear new friend I met two weeks ago, this article is dedicated to music.
A couple of weeks ago, at the de Nicola Center for Ethics and Culture Fall Conference, I met my former classmate’s little brother, Isaac, who attends the Julliard School of Music for his master’s degree in Piano Performance. He was invited to come to Notre Dame to perform some Franz Liszt piano pieces and to give short presentations between the works, discussing the relationship between Liszt’s Catholic faith and his composition of musical masterpieces. Unfortunately, I missed the performance and presentation, but wonderfully, I was able to spend the weekend getting to know Isaac and showing him around Notre Dame. It was beautiful to see the number of people who stopped Isaac to thank him and congratulate him for his great performance, and I was so intrigued by the conversations that followed. One student asked about the purpose of music — does the composer or pianist intend to convey a particular message to the audience? How could they, but also, how could they not intend to communicate something, if only an emotion? I chimed in and suggested that perhaps music cannot communicate a specific message or emotion, but its purpose is to create a disposition in the listener.
Later, unintentionally, this hypothesis was tested and proven. Isaac and another friend stopped by my house on the way to a later conference event, and we asked him to play a little bit for us on our old, chipped, scratched, free, secondhand piano from the seminary auditorium in our living room. He graciously agreed, and we marveled at the beauty he produced from our merely “workable” piano. We were all mesmerized for a time, but after a few minutes, I looked toward my roommate to see if she was recording any of it, as I hoped, and to see her reaction regardless. She was utterly transfixed, and it was beautiful. She later lamented that she had forgotten to take a video, but I understood why she had not, and I was glad — she was totally enamored with the music, and it created such a disposition of attentiveness and consideration that there was no space for the intrusion of technology or a thought to save the moment for later. She was compelled to be present, to be in awe, and to be grateful. And that is far better than a video.
The Lord speaks to us in many languages, and the language of music is one that I know I easily overlook or minimize. Perhaps today we can reconsider what dispositions our preferred music cultivates in us and possibly reevaluate some music choices. Perhaps today we can find an arrangement that lifts our souls to the heavens and arrests our wandering thoughts. Perhaps today we can remember that music wields a greater power than we often recognize, and God desires to reveal himself through it.
Happy Feast of St. Cecilia, patron saint of music and musicians!