Monday Music Appreciation #65: A beloved opera melody

I haven't been posting moodlings very frequently over the last while, though I'm always composing them in my head as I move through life. I guess I've gotten out of the habit of sitting at my laptop where moodling happens most easily. Also, I am more than a bit perturbed by the way AI bots are mining my blog for ideas (for example, the image I made to accompany my moodling from April 8, 2021 is now a t-shirt in 10 different colours if I am to believe the internet, ugh -- and without my permission, or Louise Penny's!). It's enough to make me want to pull the plug, period, on Simple Moodlings. I'm realistic enough to know that no one would really miss it! (Except maybe me.)

But old habits die hard, and I love sharing music (and other ideas) so here I am with another Monday Music Appreciation moodling. A few weeks ago, I was blessed to sit in the Winspear Centre audience for a gorgeous evening of Opera's Greatest Hits. So much fantastic classical music, and to top it all off, the second last piece was Giuseppi Verdi's Va Pensiero, the chorus of the Hebrew slaves from Nabucco. It's a wonderful example of lament, longing, and hope, and gorgeous Italian that I can sing to this day because my brain holds onto strange things, and my Up With People cast performed it for a solid month when we travelled through Italy. It was a real crowd-pleaser. On that evening two weeks ago, I sang along quietly with tears of joy and delight rolling down my cheeks.

But today, the video I'm posting below is a part of my own lament:

-- for homeless people who are dying on our streets because government refuses to invest in appropriate forms of harm reduction.

-- for decisions being made that take us further into climate change rather than away from it.

-- for teachers forced back to work without having their concerns addressed, and for all people caught up in the so-called "affordability crisis."

-- for migrants and others who face prejudice and oppression just because their English is accented and their skin is not white.

And though I could go on and on about the things I am lamenting today, I'll end on a lighter note:

-- for the Toronto Blue Jays, a truly cohesive team who won the hearts of Canadians, sports fans or not, even though they lost the World Series this past Saturday. Next year, boys!

Va pensiero sull' ali dorate -- fly, my thoughts on gilded wings, toward hopeful solutions to the world's ills, toward trust that somehow, all shall be well.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vA0wLGb92fs&t=1s

Yearning, longing, nostalgia, and HOPE on a Sunday

I'm in the mood for some great music this Sunday afternoon, and I've always loved this piece. I learned it when I was travelling with a performing group in Europe -- we sang it in Italy and always received a very warm response from our audiences. At the time, I thought it beautiful, but didn't really think about why it was so well-loved by the Italian people.

25 years later, I understand the essence of the "Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves" (as it's called in English) much better. It was written by Giuseppi Verdi for an opera called Nabucco, and it's based on Psalm 137, a psalm of yearning for a lost country, longing to return from exile, and remembering the beauty of home.

Lately, I've been feeling those kinds of nostalgic feelings about the Church that has been home to me for my whole life, a life which has been lived against the backdrop of the Church's struggle to implement the changes recommended by the Second Vatican Council. Having grown up working in my parents' church supplies store, I was exposed to all the new thoughts and hopes and dreams that came from the Council, ideas like inclusive language, ecumenism, more contemporary liturgical music, a new understanding of original blessing rather than original sin, and the empowerment of the laity in the life of the Church. Since then, it seems, the Church has had a change of heart -- or perhaps it's afraid of further change because it can be so unpredictable -- and now its leadership seems to be taking the Church back to 'safe' old ways, retreating to what it once knew, even though that old knowledge is far out of step with our present times.

As the Church retreats away from the world and into itself, though, it leaves me feeling like the Hebrew slaves in exile, longingly singing for what has recently been lost. O membranza, si cara e fatal -- my heart breaks when I remember some of the positive changes that were made because of Vatican II -- that have now been unmade -- and the many improvements the Council suggested, that have died on the books. Arpa d'ora dei fatidici vati, perche muta dal salice pendi? The harp of the prophets hangs mute upon the willows... and why?? Even as I mourn, I know that if the Church doesn't change soon, it will collapse in upon itself -- and something new will have to rise up from the grassroots.

As part of those grassroots, today I sing along with the Hebrew slaves, but not with their desolate spirit. The melody of their sadness is being transformed into a melody of hope in my heart. Over the weeks since Pope Benedict announced his retirement, hope has risen and many voices have begun to converge, calling once again for positive change -- for deeper inclusivity, openness, transparency, and faithfulness to the Gospels rather than a blind clinging to the tired old doctrines, dogmas, and ways that no longer work -- and I join those voices to sing a melody of hope. Va pensiero sull'ali dorate, fly, golden thoughts, on the wings of the Holy Spirit, and help change to happen...