Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Medieval New York


NYC Holy Week on a Pepperdine boondoggle. JD Rockefeller Jr had portions of European abbeys reconstructed in upper Manhattan in a medieval environment, far removed from downtown noise - a beautiful retreat marking a liturgical calendar - called The Cloisters.
  Surrounded by cobblestone, the site is a remarkable throwback to the middle ages: herb gardens, cloisters, chapels and extensive collection of illuminated manuscripts.
JD Rockefeller Jr was an early liberal, theologically speaking, supporting Union Seminary and the building of St John the Divine Cathedral, which celebrates a wide variety of religion in its chapels, ever expanding and purposely never complete.
Michael really wanted to see the Cloisters and the boys, hopefully, made connections to visited sites in Europe, like Mont St Michel in Normandy, where the water ebbs and flows according to tide, illustrating the creation act:
 “Let the waters under the heavens be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.” And it was so. God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that it was good.


Oceans have been domesticated as wonderful vistas for play in modern times, registering as chaos, formlessness, before industry tamed them; the abbey here - the earth itself - becomes an elaborate life raft; the liturgical calendar a cathedral in the shapelessness of time.

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 We decided to attend St George's Episcopal for Tenebrae, though perhaps too spent after heavy sightseeing to appreciate the tragic quiet of the elders robed in black,
 
carrying a black-veiled cross.
 
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Two days earlier, we attended Bach at One, a world class Bach program begun 5 years ago at Trinity Church in Wall Street.
or more precisely St Paul's Chapel,
where we heard the choir practice.
The church next to the Twin Towers, achieving miracle status for surviving 9/11, was a triage site and memorial retold in this moving children's book

On March 23, 2016, we were treated to 3 cantatas sung feet away in the first Episcopal church in America, where George Washington prayed at his private box following his inauguration nearby.
 Church and State fused in a new way now, starkly remembered inside and at the nearby 9/11 memorial of water flowing in a grave-like pit - not a spring of life, let alone fountain of youth. Certainty here is of loss; eternal hopelessness anchoring the names etched along a communal tombstone,
 

an overall vector unlike the gravestones of adjacent St Paul, pointing upward; worship alive next door.
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I leave with this 1956 shot of Manhattan, reminding me of similar scenes of LA's city hall of my childhood, and the bright yellow of forsythia, reminding of Ithaca grad school days. April is the Spring!