Sunday May
3rd
Not the
usual Calvinist protestant Sunday. Oh yes, I watched three services on the tv
in the morning. The first one by the American preacher Bobby Schuler, the grandson
of the Crystal Palace pioneer, in the Hour of Power. But the glass cathedral is
now lost to them. Once the father had retired, Robert Schuler, a father with
charisma, the children could not keep things together. They lost the cathedral,
and their personal assets as well. I do not know where Bobby Schuler was
preaching, but by the looks of it in a far more modest church than the Chrystal
Cathedral. Nevertheless, there was a choir with a beauty queen conducting in front,
swinging her hips and very elegantly dressed as if for a party. And there was
an orchestra. Somehow or other I felt a
strange repulsion for this smooth, well groomed, smiling American preacher, an
actor and entertainer of the gospel. To me, it all seemed insincere. Perhaps it
is me, perhaps he is sincere and I do him a great injustice, but he reminded me
so much of all those film star preachers, who entertain whole flocks, grow rich
and feel smug. The type of American I do
not trust, with a perfect set of teeth, well cut hair, tailor made suits and
this smile on their face. Unfortunately, I am prejudiced. They are so different
from the Americans I know and respect. None of my dear American friends look
like that. I must admit none of them are rich. Each one of them has worked in a
job which gave them satisfaction, which gave something to the community,
although they had the opportunity and the qualifications to work in well paid
jobs. But they preferred not to.
The second service I watched was a Dutch
protestant service, a digital compilation of several services, all in beautiful
churches with the most glorious pipe organs the Dutch are so famous for. People
sang with enthusiasm, from the heart, but why just praise songs, why with
bands, drums, guitars, piano? Why not with an organ. Only in the main church in
Apeldoorn the singing of the congregation was accompanied by the big pipe
organ. I hope this change of musical taste, the neglect of our fantastic
organs, our hymnal traditions, is not indicative of the future. I would hate
that. Bands, drums, saxophones are fine for youth rallies, different services.
But in the traditional, regular church services the pipe organ is the instrument
to accompany the singing and to play introits and interludes.
The third service I watched and took part in –
I joined the singing! - came from the Anglican Cathedral in Bangor, Wales. I
enjoyed that one, the singing of traditional hymns accompanied by the organ,
the beautiful texts of the hymns, as so many Anglican hymn texts were written
by well-known poets and authors. Unlike the modern praise songs, they really
mean something, they are not just a repetition of a few words like “Praise the
Lord”, or “Jesus, I love you”, again and again, rather meaningless and not very
comforting texts, which do not touch my heart nor help me in any way.
In the evening I listened to the service which
my own church had put together for this Sunday. It was comforting and personal.
Although it was not a video service but just audio, and the several voices not
always well-balanced due to technical imperfections, I enjoyed that.
It was the end of a strange week. Or rather the
beginning of a new week. Sunday being the first day of the new week. Most weekdays
are the same now. No highlights, nothing to look forward to, no choir, no
church. But this week there were a few changes, for I met with two friends in
the flesh, on two different occasions. Of course at the required distance of
1,5 meters. But it is so much better than just using WhatsApp, or Skype. One friend
who had her birthday came out to my house for a celebratory meal of fresh asparagus.
She dressed for the occasion and we took a photo of her in her stunning outfit
out in the garden. It was lovely to share a meal with a friend after so many
weeks of isolation and very lonely meals. We have almost forgotten what
normality means, interaction with friends, sharing meals, singing together. We
have been pushed willy-nilly into a virtual reality. A right decision? I very much
doubt it and think it is detrimental for many.
And this past week I had my very first Zoom
drinks party, organized by and for the Haarlem choir. It took some time to get
the hang of it, but it was great fun to see each other again, after such a long
time. Not as good as in the flesh, or in a pub after a long choir practice, but
fun. I felt honoured to be included in it, Haarlem not being my regular choir. No
pub drinks but our own, and we exchanged news as far as there was any – and
gossip, sometimes interrupted by cats walking across the keyboard. No kisses, except
for the cats, but virtual hugs. Normally we would have met for practices with
ECS members, and perhaps for the Easter and/or Good Friday services. In June we
would have our Choral Festival, this time in Haarlem, but it is doubtful if
such gatherings will be allowed by then. Let alone our singing week in
Portsmouth in July.
Wooded areas and meadows on our walk
Below: Even the Royal Palace, Huis ten Bosch, is situated here. This is the back entrance. The royal flag is in top since the royal family is also respecting the lock down
Yesterday I went to see another friend for a
nice walk in the parks near her apartment. From the centre of The Hague to
almost Wassenaar and beyond there is a long stretch of parks and former estates.
Once I was dotted with many country houses owned by the rich who spent their
summer months here. It is a long strip of land just behind the dunes and on the
border of meadows and farmland. Large
stretches of the dunes were levelled, the sand used for building purposes, the
country mansions often destroyed. This ribbon of parkland also stretched South
of the Hague, along the Vliet, and through Voorburg and Monster. Some of the
old parks and estates have been preserved, fortunately, in Wassenaar and also
in the area where I live, Leyden and places North of Leyden towards Haarlem. Since most of the big country houses which
remain are no longer owned privately, the parklands surrounding them are often open
to the public now and quite attractive. So, we enjoyed our walk and afterwards
listened to a virtual concert performed by two of our choir members who are
also professional violinists.
Wild flowers in the parks
This Sunday afternoon, after watching all the
services, I decided to clean the window frames and the screens on the first
floor - second for Americans! - , as I had noticed dirt had gathered in the
frames and blocked the tiny drainage holes. The water collected between the
window frame and the screens could not flow away through the blocked holes and I
found puddles on my window sills inside. It was a rather time-consuming job,
cleaning the windows, the frames, the screens, and the tiny holes which I
attacked with flexible dental brushes and cotton buds. With four rooms on that
floor and just as many windows to clean, it did take a lot of time. Not a
Sunday job, I admit, and my nagging conscience was proof of my Calvinist
upbringing. There is a saying in Dutch, “Een zondagssteek, houdt geen week”,
meaning: any work you do on a Sunday won’t last. Since cleaning is a regular
job anyway, it didn’t bother me.
The beauty of a garden in spring
Whatever,
I can now enjoy looking at the garden again without nagging feelings about cleaning
jobs which are waiting to be done. And beautiful it is, my garden, with most plants
and shrubs in bloom at the same time: the porcelain blue wysteria, the dark
purple and deep pink climbing roses, the weigelia with its variegated leaves
and pink flowers, the bluebells and the lily of the valley, intermixed and
lovely. All those festive and fragrant flowers are a compensation for the still
rather bare left side of the garden where a huge holly tree was taken down and
the big magnolia drastically pruned. Added to
that, the new wooden fence at the back is still rather bare looking. I
have to plant some climbers soon. But which ones? That is one of the next week
projects.
So we enter
this new week, with hopes of some relief of the strict measures, and a gradual return
to normal life, which for me is not the new 1,5-meter normal, but the touch-and-hug
normal.
No comments:
Post a Comment