Advent Sunday

A happy day, which filled me with joy! The first Sunday of Advent, the promise of Christ, the light of the World, all expressed through music.

In The Hague we sang our monthly Evensong, which was not really an Advent Sunday service, although we walked in singing "Lo He comes with clouds descending", such a beautiful hymn. The Canticles were mainly chanted, which can be of a serene beauty, if sung well. Otherwise it can be monotonous.

Immediately after the service I drove to Haarlem, where I joined the choir for the Advent Carol Service. And that is where I really felt happy and privileged. I was too late for the practice. It was mad anyway, singing Choral Evensong at 5 pm in The Hague and then dashing out to sing the Carol Service which began at 7.30 in Haarlem. But we made it. When the service began, the church was dark and we sang the Mattins Responsery, standing at the back of the church with our candles lit.

Here is a recording of the Advent Mattins Responsery, sung by the choir of St. Pauls Cathedral, London.

We proceeded to the front singing "Come Thou Redeemer of the Earth". Once there the candles of the people in the congregation were lit as well. It was moving and very symbolic, seeing the church become lighter with each lit candle. We sang another carol or anthem before extinguishing the candles again and switching on the light, which ended all feelings of mystery and awe. I like the candles when I am sitting in the congregation. But juggling with a lit candle in one hand, a folder with music in the other, walking in while singing, trying not to trip over my robe negotiating a small step up to my chair, and not setting fire to the robes and hair of the person walking in front of me, is quite an art. One has to know the music by heart, for I find it virtually impossible to read by the light of one dripping and flickering candle, which blinds me as well. The soprano in front of me had a long pigtail. It is still intact, I am glad to add.

The liturgy for the Advent Carol Service is wonderful, the texts from the Old and New Testament, the well-known words of the promise of the Lord, alternated by anthems, carols and hymns. I loved the singing, felt immeasurably happy. Looking at the congregation I wondered how long this will still go on. The church wasn't half full, and most people were elderly. What if they become really old? Will anyone still be interested in this traditional service? I was sorry when the service was over, although the last hymn was wonderful. And of course this is only the beginning of many carol concerts still to come.

One of the most beautiful and well-known Advent hymns we sang is perhaps, "O Come, o Come Emmanuel." Here it is sung by the choir of Clare College, Cambridge

Talking about being happy:

This autumn we have been so lucky. Last weekend I was in Limburg with family. All of Holland was shrouded in thick fog. In Limburg we had three marvellous days of sunshine, the autumn colours still blazing, the temperature so high that we could walk for several hours in just a thick sweater. Everybody seemed to be out, but nevertheless it was quiet. Limburg is the only hilly part of the Netherlands, hardly Dutch I think, embraced by Belgium and Germany, almost too tightly in places. This province is like an appendix, an extra which does not seem to belong although of course it does. The trees were still beautiful, the sun slanting through them. Being able to enjoy that with siblings, walking, talking, sharing delicious food, was another source of happiness. Plus the practical help I was so generously given in my search for another car. Now that my parents have both died, it is important as siblings to keep in contact.

In the grounds of the golf course, late in the afternoon

On a walk from Munstergeleen

11-11-11, Poppy Day

Today, many couples will get married. I wonder why. Is it perhaps because men are genetically incapable of remembering wedding anniversaries? If this date does not help them, nothing will work. I understand that some will even say "Yes, I will", exactly at 11.11 hours.

I suppose those getting married have not really thought about the significance of this date, Remembrance Day. Oegstgeest too has a number of war graves next to the oldest church here, the "Groene Kerk" (Green Church), or Willibrord Church. That last name is not generally used, as the big Roman Catholic Church which was built much later, is also called Willibrord Kerk (Church). At one time the "Groene Kerk" was covered in ivy, thence the name. The Groene Kerk is built on a protruding sand dune. At one time the river Rhine met the sea at Katwijk and the little church was built on the banks of the river. The river is now a canal, and the main branch of the Rhine joins the North See at Rotterdam.  Willibrord landed at Katwijk and walked along the Rhine to Oegstgeest where he built a church on the exact spot where the Groene Kerk is now. There has been a church ever since, this one probably dating back to the 14^th century. I was married in this church, and my husband is buried in the churchyard here.

For the Dutch Remembrance Day is May 4^th, when in fact we think more about the men who lost their lives during World War II than the many lives that were lost during World War I. Perhaps England was harder hit during World War I than World War II, and that may explain the date chosen, in fact Armistice Day. In Oegstgeest we have a committee – of volunteers - which is responsible for the graves in this churchyard and which organizes the Remembrance service each year. It is a valiant attempt. The mayor attends with other representatives of the local council. There is a choir, an organist and a speaker. Once we had British chaplains who would perform the rites. But since a few years we have to do without them, why, I do not know. The speaker today was a well-known professor of history at Leyden University. Being a professor is no guarantee for an interesting address. All of a sudden I realised why I skipped lectures way back when I was a student, and why that did not really matter. The professor tried to do his best, explaining the differences between categories of graves, in churchyards, in cemeteries and on special war cemeteries. And why war graves will stay untouched and cared for forever – if forever exists – and why "normal"  graves are dug up after so many years, mainly because of lack of space. We were given statistics: how many men were killed during those two wars, how many war cemeteries there are, where we can find the largest one and the oldest one and what nationalities are buried there.  Very interesting, but not for a remembrance ceremony. I sometimes feel that we suffer from a total lack of tradition and protocol. Beautiful words have been written for such an occasion as this, and nevertheless we try to find our own.

Patrick Hopper, pianist, choir master and composer had the following famous poem put to music especially for this choir. It was sung today, as well as two other well-known and appropriate anthems:

In Flanders fields 

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow

Loved, and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

                        (lieutenant-kolonel John McCrae, 1872-1918)

The former mayor of Oegstgeest played the organ, as always very poorly, but he insists on doing it. When the names of the dead were read out he repeated the same hymn over and over, making the same mistake over and over, every time hesitantly trying to find the correct note but not succeeding. It was very amateurish, but also touching in a way. Whatever, at least we keep this tradition alive, although with ever decreasing numbers, and honour the lives of those who gave theirs for our freedom.

When I saw the few veterans who are still able to attend this ceremony, I could not help but think of these classic words of remembrance

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

The veterans stood in front of the simple white crosses, not straight as they used to when they were young and able, but bent and somewhat unsteady on their feet. They saluted the dead, who remain forever heroes, forever young. No aura of heroism for the veterans, just respect. The Last Post, flowers on the graves, a wreath, and we left.

Exactly 12 years ago I attended this ceremony with my husband. He no longer had the use of his legs and insisted on driving his scooter into the church. Very scary, as his scooter was far too wide for this and he had great difficulty turning or backing out again. After the ceremony, he took me on a tour of the churchyard and told the caretaker in which of the still available and empty graves he wanted to be buried and reserved his future home.  Not even two months later, he took possession of it. No poppies for him. But he did his part after the war by joining the RAF as an interpreter at the trials of war criminals in Germany, translating from one foreign language into another, from German into English and vice versa. It seems a coincidence that the other day, when I was clearing out my room, I found a box with his RAF insignia, many documents and a newspaper clipping in which the work of the Dutch interpreters was praised as very valuable. His name was mentioned among those of three others.

Since his death I have taken over the task of attending the remembrance ceremony.

A Book Launch

Yesterday I went to a book launch. The book is about how to keep fit after – let us say – 50 plus. Now lots of books have been written about the subject, about healthy living and healthy eating habits. Exercise, fresh food, fruit, vegetables, we all know about this.  The author, unknown, must have realised that he needed something special to get this book noticed. So, clever devil, he contacted an ex top sportsman, a celebrity, now a physiotherapist, and asked him to be his co-author. So far so good. There are pictures in the book of the two of them cycling together, in the same sports outfit. Well, cycling... posing on their sports bikes, looking slim, healthy and active. As if this was not enough, it was decided to present the book to the best known ex-footballer in Holland, and perhaps even in Europe. Thus they were sure attention would be drawn to this book.

         The launch was indeed quite a happening, in the Olympic Stadium in Amsterdam, with many elderly ex-top sportsmen present, as well as some younger gold winning medallists. It was fun to see them, even if they had to be pointed out to me as sports is not my field of interest. The place was crowded, we had drinks – fruit juice pressed in situ – coffee and tea, and a lunch with healthy wraps and sandwiches. Each of us was given a free copy of the book. It is a glossy and sturdy book, the lay-out very well done, with a big photo of the well-known co-author on the cover. On the back the same co-author with the actual author, the picture with the bikes. It was very difficult to take any pictures during the presentation of the book, as the press was blocking our view. There were so many reporters, sports columnists of newspapers both local and national, and even a representative of a TV station, that it seemed we were at the Edison award or something similar and dealing with film stars. We were of course dealing with VIPs and sharing a room with celebrities.

         When I watched the TV programme in the evening, only the two famous ex-sportsmen were interviewed, the co-author and the footballer. The real author was totally ignored, not mentioned, not shown. So the book will sell. That made me think of Art. When a painting is beautiful, it only has value if it was painted by a famous artist, even if the experts at first could not decide if it was the real thing, which means actually done by the famous painter, or a fake. Even if this fake is just as intriguing and beautiful. But it is worth nothing if the artist is a nonentity. This has always been puzzling to me. Beauty is beauty, no matter who created that  piece of art or that painting. If any of us would paint a Campbell soup tin or something similar, it would just go unnoticed as we are not called Andy Warhol. Perhaps a poor example, but you may get my point. So this book will draw attention and be appreciated and bought because of the fame of the co-author, presented as the real author who has cleverly downgraded himself to being  a ghost writer. And the co-author has authority, as he is both a sportsman and a physiotherapist. The real author has no claim to such expertise.

         The book brings us nothing we did not know already. The only difference is that its approach is personal. The author talks about how he took his 80 year old father on a sightseeing trip to Rome and how his father's legs no longer could support him after an hour or so in the Vatican Museum. How his father changed his lifestyle once home, changed his eating habits, enrolled for fitness classes twice a week and lost a lot of weight. So on the next trip to Paris he could easily negotiate the steps -  270 steps in all – to the Sacré Coeur without suffering a cardiac arrest. It is a workbook as well, with blank and ruled pages to note one's personal progress, ambitions, weight, etc.

         Now eating habits and exercise – in moderation - , I agree with all that. But why would one spend one's retirement years wasting two hours a week in a sports school? Not to mention the time needed to get there and back, to shower and change. Why sweat away on machines when it may be so nice just to go for a walk? It is suggested that our health is in our own hands, and if we do not work out we lose it. So we can only blame ourselves for ill health, sickness, even cancer. It reminds me of some faith healers. They claim that if only we have faith and pray, we won't get sick and will be healed. And if we are not healed, that is lack of faith. Statements which I think are very controversial. We all die, even people who embrace life and do anything to keep alive.  Fitness seems to be the new religion in a very secular world. Why go to fitness classes if one's blood pressure is fine, when there are no traces of diabetes and no cholesterol problems? And what if people rather spend their spare time going to see an exhibition? Play a musical instrument?  Sing in a choir? The latter a very good work-out for lungs and heart.

         The irony too was that the father who was the pivotal point of the book, was present, and had regained the weight he had lost. He was not filmed, I must add. And that the co-author had had a brain infarct, and the ex footballer a bypass. Which proves to me that top sport is unhealthy – or at least not necessarily healthy - and that a healthy lifestyle is not about an expensive season ticket to a sports school. I hope I am right. Time will tell.

         The sun is out today and I think a work-out preparing my garden for winter will do me more good than sweating away inside on a machine, self inflicted torture which I would have to pay for as well.

Sport schools should have sponsored this book. In a time of recession, it might do them some good.

Flemish Painters and Evensong; a day in Amsterdam

As the weather forecast was for rain and clouds, I decided to go to Amsterdam, making use of one of my days of free train travel, and my Museum pass. In the "Hermitage" along the river Amstel there is a beautiful exhibition of paintings by Peter Paul Rubens, Anthonie van Dyck en Jacob Jordaens, famous Flemish painters. All the paintings are on loan from the Hermitage in St. Petersburg. Some are well-known, even to me who has never been to Russia – there should always be something left to wish for – as I have seen them in art programmes, as reproductions, in books, on cards. But seeing the actual paintings is another thing, not only because the size is often so different from what I had expected. Rubens painted women which are not very popular nowadays, as they definitely do not resemble Twiggy. They are voluptuous women, but beautiful, tactile in a way. And they seem very much alive. The Hermitage is an excellent location for such an exhibition, as the main exhibition hall is very high and perfect for displaying big paintings. The website gives a lot of information about the Hermitage in Amsterdam, beautifully located and with a fascinating history (all in English and Dutch). Originally it was built in the 17^th century, in 1683 to be precise, as a home for old women. Much later, in the early 19^th century, men were admitted as well. It was more or less in use till the turn of the century, but then too outdated. Plans to change it into a museum took shape around the beginning of the 21^st century. The building as such is worth a visit. Inside not much reminds us of the former home, except for the church hall which has a very beautiful pipe organ, and the boardroom with a splendid view of the River Amstel and an intersecting canal. A pity I totally forgot to bring my camera, for contrary to the weather forecast, it had become a glorious day, warm and sunny, an excellent day to see the glory of Amsterdam.

The museum houses a restaurant as well. Prior to viewing the paintings, I had a coffee and apple pie while it was still relatively quiet. Much later, with a dry throat and sore feet but very happy, my head full of colour and information, I ordered a coffee and a toasted sandwich in the same pleasant restaurant. I waited twenty minutes and nothing came. Although it was pretty busy by now, later arrivals were already enjoying their food, even full meals. A toasted sandwich can't be that complicated, can it?  So I asked what had happened. Apparently the waiter who had come back twice to ask what exactly I had ordered, had forgotten all about the order as soon as he turned his back on me. Another waitress promised to give me priority treatment. I do not know what that means, for I had to wait another 10 minutes for my coffee to arrive, and not till I had finished that did my toasted sandwich arrive. Which was cold and soggy. Apparently they had prepared it, but forgotten to toast it. So I send it back. They promised to make me another one, but I told them not to bother, because by now I had sat there for 40 minutes, just for a coffee, and outside the sun was shining. I got my money back! The exhibition was definitely far better than the service in the restaurant!

Walking along the River Amstel was bliss. I sat on one of the public benches for a while before finding a very nice sidewalk cafe along the river, with a fantastic view of the river and a canal, and facing south as well. Here –although it was crowded - I got my coffee and a toasted sandwich quite quickly.

I meandered a bit, along the many canals in what is definitely the oldest and most attractive part of Amsterdam. There are many churches here, an Anglican one, and the big "Zuiderkerk", the South Church. It was built by the famous architect Hendrick de Keyser (1561-1621) between 1603 and 1611 as a protestant church. The very remarkable tower is the home of the oldest church bell in Amsterdam – dating back to 1511 – which can still be heard regularly. In fact, they were ringing the bells when I walked along the canals. Since 1929 the church has not been used for services. It is now owned by the city of Amsterdam and is multifunctional.

Apart from the Oude Kerk (the Old Church), there are four big churches, the Westerkerk, Oosterkerk, Zuiderkerk and Noorderkerk. Only the Westerkerk and the Noorderkerk are still in use as Protestant churches.

The Oude Kerk is very remarkable. Rembrandt married Saskia van Uylenburg in this church, and buried her here as well. Sweelinck, who played the famous organ, is also buried here. The church was originally built as a Roman Catholic Church, and consecrated to St. Nicolas. But after the New Church on the Dam was built, its name was changed into Old Church. Nothing inside reminds us of the Catholic past of this church. It is empty and sober. I have been to organ recitals here, and among organists this church is very well known. I have also sung Evensong in this church several times. It is a beautiful church, although stark, but strong, with thick brick pillars.

Organ Oude Kerk Amsterdam July 2009

Some of the canals are very quiet, serene almost. There are so many buildings of historic interest. The University of Amsterdam is here as well, there are former warehouses, with ornate and intricate gables and gable stones. I wish I had not forgotten my camera. The round bridges are reflected in the canals. Unfortunately the nearer one gets to the station, the more spoilt the area becomes. Here is the red light district, with the "windows", the nightclubs, the very cheap hotels and the coffee shops. Even around the Oude Kerk, so beautiful, there are red windows and behind them, in full view, women exposing themselves.

In the connecting alleys we find the Salvation Army for the poor and homeless, the Christian organisations working with drug addicts, and other organisations caring for all those in need in this big city. It is a pity that the most interesting part of Amsterdam is so spoilt by the sex industry and by the hordes of tourists who are attracted to this part. But also "normal" people live here, and I suppose that on a Sunday mornings it will be lovely to walk here, in the absence of workers, traffic, and tourists.

As I had 45 minutes to spare, I did some necessary shopping in a well-known store before going to the St. Nicolas Church, the big Roman Catholic Church opposite the station. Here Choral Evensong is sung every Saturday afternoon at 5 o'clock, and amazingly the church is always pretty full, on a Saturday, in what has become a very seedy part of Amsterdam. Inside I entered another world. The church is very big, with a central dome, and the noise of the busy traffic outside can't be heard here. The choirs of this church are well-trained, and the acoustics of the church are fantastic. It seemed to me the music was soaring up.

This is the sung part of the liturgy:

Introit: Give us the wings of faith – Ernest Bullock (1890-1979)

Preces and Responses : Herbert Sumsion (1899-9195)

An office hymn, the Sarum Plainchant was sung, Lucis Creator Optime

Psalm 3 and Psalm 4 were chanted, each with a different chant.

The Canticles (Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis) were by Sidney Watson (1903-19910, Service in E

Anthem: Justorum Animae,  Charles Villiers Stanford (1852-1924)

Although the music chosen was relatively modern, it was all very beautiful music. The diction of the choir and the dynamics are so good, that for me this Evensong was a restoring experience.

One of my friends sings in this choir and it was nice to be able to travel together back to Leyden. She had to travel on to Delft, but we had plenty of time to talk about music and travel! Her grandmother lives near Vancouver. I think she is 103 by now, and a few years ago my friend took her granny on a road trip through the Rockies. So we compared notes about our different itineraries.