Happy Mother's Day - in Mexico!

Today, May 10, is Mother's Day in Mexico!  (It is always celebrated May 10, regardless of what day of the week that is.)

So, to celebrate and wish all mothers a Happy Mother's Day in true Mexican fashion, here's a beautiful song especially for mothers (especially for my wife and my mother-in-law, and, of course, my mother):

A Beautiful Easter Hymn I Recently Discovered

O Filii et Filiae, (O Sons and Daughters, in English).  Listen:

On Sunday, I was looking for a traditional Easter hymn to sing for my children and I found this one.  We are learning it in English and Latin.  The tune is absolutely beautiful!

On Liturgical Beauty and the Mass of the Poor

These days, many people are talking about a more austere style of Mass as opposed to the style richer in the highly developed traditions of the Roman Church.  While I have my opinion on this distinction, I am highly unqualified to speak about the topic.  There is a related distinction which I am equally unqualified to discuss, but in which I have personal experience to share.  This distinction is "Mass for the poor" as the not-poor express it vs. how the poor express it.

First of all, I do believe that if the poor really had their way, Roman Catholic Masses would be very beautiful. However, that is a different subject.  What I can say about my experience in Mexico is that, in that country, when middle-class attempt to have a "Mass for the common people" it looks and feels very different from a "Mass for the common people" which is actually attended by the poorest people.

A Middle-Class Mass

While in Mexico, it is impossible to say one parish is solely middle and upper class, since people of most classes will be mixed in most parishes, there are definite tendencies and there are definitely parishes which the poor, by their own account, say are parishes for the "rich" (which to them, includes the middle class) and are not for them.  Therefore, they avoid going to those parishes. (The poor in Mexico are usually quite accepting of the placement of their class and feel little desire to break class boundaries.  In my experience it is more the middle class which has taken up this battle.)

Ironically, it seems to me, that it is mostly these very parishes - the ones which the poor see as "beyond their class" - that make the greatest effort to have Masses for the people, include "indigenous" elements and decorate their churches in a way that is more distinctly "Mexican" (meaning not traditional) and "personal, warm and friendly" often featuring expressive art in current contemporary styles, as well as a distinctive stylized theme of lettering and symbols.  Sacred images tend to be rare.  The music tends to have a contemporary folky style.  While I can not claim to be doing anything but speculating, it seems to be these parishes that are striving for a more "indigenous Mexican expression of the Faith."

What's most striking to me is that you can see that a good deal of money, time and effort are invested into making this happen.

The Poor Mass
Just so you know, I'm not going to be heaping  praise on the virtues of the poor here; their music tends to be very bad, and on the whole, their parish churches visually reflect the poverty of people.  However, what I will be praising is their authenticity.  Let me describe one parish I attended daily for almost a month.

It's name, perhaps somewhat significantly, is San Francisco de Asis.  It is a typical structure of the poorer neighbourhoods of Mexico City, built of concrete blocks, which are finished inside and out with fairly unappealing colours of paint and imitation stones.  The roof is fiberglass.  Inside the church, simple shelves screwed onto the walls hold statues of saints, which would have been unusually nice, had the paint not been flaking off of them. (I remember St. Francis and St. Charbel, whose shelf was piled high with the ribbons which people use to make requests of him.)  The altar, cloths, tabernacle and other items of high importance all looked like mismatched combinations of rejected items from other parishes.

I remember waking up at my in-laws apartment (around the corner,) getting my 2 young sons dressed, and hurrying out the door as the 8 am bells rang from the church.  There are enough parishes in the surrounding communities, all of which ring their bells every time they have Mass, that it would have been a beautiful moment of sound, had the traffic on the main road, which was backed up and almost at stand-still since about an hour earlier, with it's noisy engines, loud buses and blaring horns, not drowned out any church bell that wasn't within two blocks.

The people arrived on foot.  Since it was a weekday morning, most were elderly ladies clearly belonging to the impoverished neighbourhood surrounding the church.  It was about a third full.  The priest offered a very simple but "clean" mass.  There was no choir.  No organ, no piano, no guitar.  All singing - including the prayers such as the gloria and hymns - was lead by the elderly ladies, especially by a group about five pews back from the front.

I remember their singing.  It was neither traditional nor was it "folky" or "indigenous." In artistic aesthetic terms, it would be hard to call it "beautiful" or "creative" or "expressive."  Their old voices crackled in off key notes.  Were they the same songs that are sung in the nicer parishes?  Perhaps.  They sounded so different I couldn't tell. Yet their voices had something in them that I don't remember hearing in the more carefully crafted "popular" Masses - a sort of passion and adoration.

One day of the week, after Mass, the priest would present a relic of St. Francis.  Almost all present lined up in front of his shrine to kiss the relic.

Something about Mass at this parish touched me.  While there is no doubt that the Mass was greatly lacking in beauty and talent, the people were not striving to "express themselves" or their culture.  They were, quite on the contrary, striving for something more beautiful than what they could attain.

That in itself was very beautiful.

Beauty like this cannot be planned through a liturgy team, finances, art, creativity, self-expression or any sort of intellectual idea of "appeal to the masses."  It is also something that could not be imitated.

I would love it if every day of my life, I were near a Mass in a traditionally decorated church with gold and beautiful paintings, with bells, incense, and awe-inspiring chant rising to its high ceilings.  However, that option lacking, a Mass like the one I just described is probably where I have found the greatest beauty.


I could (and I intend to) write more about this parish, but for today's point, this will be enough.

Pope Francis and Gregorian Chant?

Most people, for obvious reasons, aren't making any strong ties between Pope Francis and older traditions of the Church, like Gregorian chant.  Yet, here's a very interesting (and compelling) post from Jeffrey Tucker at the Chant Cafe, starting with the story of a priest who has already been inspired to action by our new pope:

I just got off the phone with an older priest in Wisconsin who was ordering the Parish Book of Chant for his small congregation. He told me that he is inspired by the sensibility of Pope Francis to rediscover the roots of our faith, strip away artificials, and just simply sing what’s true. To this priest that means that his congregation must rediscover the core music of the Catholic people.

He concluded in his talk with me: “Maybe the new Pope and his call for simplicity will help fix the musical problems in the Church too.”

Are you surprised at such a reaction? Many people would be. People have tended to associate Benedict XVI with chant, and rightly so. At the same time, in the last few days since the elevation of Pope Francis, people have wondered: is Benedict’s musical reform in danger? There is a real worry out there. It is palpable. It is happening among the many who are dedicated to uniting the Roman Rite with its native music, both in its proper texts and its chanted style.

Many people worry that Pope Francis will not continue the support for the Gregorian revival that has made such enormous strides in the last five years.

The new Pope’s emphasis on austerity, humility, and simplicity -- underscored by his choice of name and his tendency to eschew material signs of wealth or position -- shouldn’t necessarily be a cause for concern. No music is so simple in structure as plainsong, nothing can compare with its austerity., and every musician is profoundly aware of the humility required to defer to its role in the Church’s liturgy.

There was a faction at the Council of Trent that took the idea of austerity so seriously that it wanted to legislate against all music in Mass except the Gregorian chant. They wanted polyphony out. They were against organs. Popular hymnody would have been banned completely. This was all in the name of reform to purge conceit and opulence after the crisis of the Reformation. Fortunately -- and mostly thanks to the intervention of the Spanish Bishops and King -- this faction did not get its way.

But the point remains: for Catholic who seek a restoration of fundamental and simple truths in faith and worship, the chant tradition has been there as a symbol of what they seek. The text is holy Scripture. The music is evocative of the text. The music is a dedicated servant of the liturgical action and not employed solely to pass the time or entertain.

Even as recently as the late 19th century, the highly influential Caecilian movement in Germany was driven by this ideal of austerity -- in contrast to what they perceived as decadence of the Baroque, Classical, and Romantic traditions -- to demand a central place for Gregorian chant in Mass. Their views had a big influence on St. Pius X’s motu proprio on music that kicked off the 20th century rediscovery of chant.

I think, for example, of the communion antiphon for the 4th week of Lent, Oportet Te. It is tells the story of the Prodigal Son. The melody is light and almost sounds like a dance. It is an beautiful expression of the father’s joy, a song perfectly integrated with its message. It’s this kind of piece that reminds me that Gregorian chant truly does have folk-like origins, a liturgical art form designed to convey truth to a culture where all learning took place by hearing. It is the people’s music -- for 2000 years.

...

Read the rest at Chant Cafe: Is the Chant in Danger?

The Joy of Living and Walter Ostanek

Back in October, someone made a comment about polka, and brought back memories of seeing Walter Ostanek on T.V. back in the 80s.  Something always struck me about Mr. Ostanek; I don't think it was his music per se, but more the fact that he always looked incredibly happy.  Take a look:

How many pop/rock/other famous musicians do you see with a smile like that on their faces these days?  Either they look depressed or angry, or they take themselves far too seriously to smile.
In any case, there seems to be some joy in the polka party.

This kind of joy in the simple things in life is something I saw and experienced much more in Mexico than here.  In Mexico, there is a greater tendency to find joy in whatever you have in life, even if it's little, and whatever situation you're in.  Could it be that more limited economic opportunities and a lesser degree of stability have made everything seem a more fleeting, thus making everyone happier for what they have?  Or is it that their mentality on life has been shaped by a different set of values, different religious background, etc.?

In any case, although Walter Ostanek is still alive and well (and living in St. Catherine's) the days of the polka fest seem to be past their prime.  In the past, the unfinished sanctuary of the church I currently attend was used as a community dance hall for about 3 decades (until they had the money to finish it and use it as a sanctuary.)  There are no community dances any more.  I think there's only one at New Years, and it's only for those of age; this strips the sense of community out of such events.  The interest-focused "communities" we like to talk about are really not communities at all.  A true community includes people of all ages and tastes.  A true community, like a family, simply finds joy in being with each other.

Perhaps Canada's past was a little more festive and joyous as well?  Who knows.  In Canada, there is a lot of focus on pleasure, but little joy.  It most certainly exists (see A Mexican Chistmas Celebration (Posada) in Ontario's Countryside) but it seems the exception rather than the rule.

"The seats on the bus go bump, bump, bump ...."

A bus in Playa del Carmen near where I live.

A favorite activity that my son and I enjoy on the way to school is imagining all the different possible versions of "The wheels on the bus ..."

If you've only ever been on a bus in Canada or the U.S., you'd have no idea of how much fun this can really be.  Our favourite is "The seats on the  bus go bump, bump, bump."  The most fun is trying to sing, as the seats, the whole bus, and the people on it actually go "bump, bump, bump" so much that you have to hold onto something to stay in your seat, or at least avoid ending up on the floor.

In the small mini-buses (like in the picture) the morning and afternoon school rush often leaves us standing up in the middle; usually when there's an adult with a seat, they'll at least give the three-year-old a place to sit, but when everyone else has a 3,4 or 5 year old, or just no body is that thoughtful, we're left standing, him holding onto my leg, and me holding on the rail at the top, not being able to stand up straight because the bus is just too small.  We still sing our song, though.

When my wife was going to fly for the first time (this was after we were married with our first baby, who is now the three-year-old), she was concerned that he wouldn't handle the flight well.  I reassured her that if the baby survived the buses on Mexico City's old roads (where we lived at the time), the take off and landing would hardly be noticeable.  I was right; our baby didn't cry.

I've been on the old buses running through the mountains in Greece, and they're even more fun.  Mexico's old inter-city bus services used to be like that - both my dad, my wife, and many Mexicans I know experienced those buses - but they're now quickly being modernized, with soft, comfortable seats and movies; the old highways that were almost wide enough to avoid oncoming traffic, and really made the bus bump, are being replaced with wide, smooth, modern highways.

In the mean time, many of the city buses still go bump, bump, bump, enough to be fun, and give people with motion sickness a hard time.  Singing helps.

"I want Canada music."

These days, my son loves the idea of Canada. (Photo from Wikimedia Commons.)

Ever since my parents left on airplane to head back to Canada after their last visit, my 3-year-old son has been very intrigued by Canada.  When we get on the bus, sometimes he asks us if the bus is taking us to Canada.  If I say no, he asks if the bus is going to Cancun, where we can get an airplane to Canada.  When we ask where he wants to go in the evening, he says Canada.  A few days ago, he was packing a little bag he has to go to Canada.  (The baby's clothes, diapers, toy cars and a book were the key items.)  He loves to wear a Canada t-shirt he has, and gets excited when he sees others wearing Canada shirts; this is fairly common among Mexicans here in Playa, since it seems fairly common for Canadian tourists to give away Canada paraphernalia to their hotel workers, tour guides, etc.

Yesterday morning I asked him what kind of music he wanted to listen to.  His answer:

"I want Canada music!"

The music which best fits that description is Gordon Lightfoot.  Of course, there is lots of great Canadian music of all kinds, but little of it is as Canadian in its essence.  He was very happy with the choice, and kept coming up to ask me, "This is Canada music?"

The only problem was I couldn't get him to say "Canadian music."  Every time I corrected him, he just insisted that it's "Canada music."  Oh well, that will come.  At least he's getting to like my music too; a while back, he always preferred his mom's music.

(See: Gordon Lightfoot for Mexico; A Musical Exchange)

No worries on the Mexican side, though. He proudly identifies himself with both countries, both flags (which appear on his blanket,) and both languages.  The two concepts show up at different times, but currently he has a strong identification with both.

The Beauty of not Knowing the Time

Starting in the late afternoon, I had 3 different appointments today.  After each one ended, I went to the place of the next one, and waited for it to begin.  Not once during the entire evening was I aware of the exact time; I could guess the approximate time by the setting sun and the beginning of each appointment; since Mexicans aren't very punctual, the second point counts for little.

I didn't have a watch on, and I had left my cell phone with my wife.  (She lost hers, and we're still waiting to buy a new one; see Have you ever flushed your phone down the toilet? )

Nor at any given point was it necessary to ask the time or even try to guess.  I only found out the time when I arrived home and realized it was a full hour earlier than I guessed just before entering the door.

I did hurry home; but that was because I was tired and I wanted to see my family; I knew they would all be sound asleep, but I still wanted to see them. There was no pressure from the numbers on a clock.

At one point, on the bus home, I became aware of my lack of knowledge of the time, and the lack of need for  it.  I felt in awe.  It wasn't so much not knowing the time that was beautiful, but more not needing to know the time, and for briefly, not even being aware that you don't know the time or don't need to.

It's like being in a place where there is no electricity - and I don't mean turning the lights off;  I mean no electric current or power source anywhere nearby, above the ground or under it.  Electricity has a light humming, even when all your own lights and appliances are off.  It's impossible to identify that humming when you live in it.  Then one day you arrive to a place where there is no electricity, and the unidentifiable lack of that unaudible humming first haunts you like you are in a strange fantasy world, then overwhelms you with its beauty.  That is true silence.


I felt that way about the time today.  It's the lack of it's ever-present existence in your mind that makes it wonderful.

---


"Heaven is a place where everything that is not music is silence." - George MacDonald (I believe I got the quotation from C.S. Lewis)

Gordon Lightfoot for Mexico; A Musical Exchange

Gordon Lightfoot -"Sundown"

This post was inspired by an off-handed facebook post I made.  This afternoon while I was working upstairs I heard Gordon Lightfoot's "Sundown" coming from downstairs; previously I had heard her humming the tune or putting on good old Gord when I was with her, but it had never occurred to me that she was actually hooked on Gordon Lightfoot!  Imagine that - a Mexican hooked on Gordon Lightfoot!  I would have never imagined it.

As I pointed out in that same Facebook we've had a nice little exchange of music tastes.  While I can't say I'm typically Canadian in my tastes, I do listen to Gordon Lightfoot (Youtube example - Sundown), Neil Young (Harvest Moon or Hey Hey My My for something more "raw" with Crazy Horse) and Leonard Cohen (Suzanne) (Canadians) as well as Bob Dylan - (his band a the height of his career was Canadian -  but I'm not sure if that really counts.) In any case I don't think these guys enjoy much of a following in Mexico.  When she first heard any of them, she didn't come away with much of an impression, with the exception of a slight interest in Leonard Cohen.  Now, she's completely hooked on Gord and Leonard, somewhat interested in Neil, but not much going on for Bobby, yet.  (Johnny Cash isn't Canadian, of course, but part of my musical "upbringing" if you can say that; she just makes fun of him.  It's not fair! - Ring of Fire) Gordon Lightfoot was the biggest surprise for me, since his style and thematic content is just so unlike what she listens to.

Armando Manzanero

She listens to Mercedes Sosa, Armando Manzanero and Julio Iglesias.  Although I could've known any of these before we met, I had know idea they existed, and only a budding of interest in very Latin American music.  I fell in love with Mercedes Sosa's powerful voice immediately.  Here's a YouTube video of one of her favorite tunes - "Gracias a la Vida" which has definitely grown on me as well. We were going to hear Armando Manzanero live at the last Riviera Maya Jazz Festival, but it was the day our baby was due, so we decided not to take any chances (he was actually born 2 and half days later.)  Julio Iglesias - well, if you ask me I think he's sexier than Enrique, but I'm not much of a fan of his music.  We also had a chance to hear Julio Iglesias live for the same event a year earlier but I forgot to tell her about it.  Of the three, only Armando Manzanero is Mexican, originally from a city pretty close to here (Merida.)  Mercedes Sosa is Argentinian.  Julio is from Spain. 

There are a few other examples of Latin musicians she's got me into.   There are very few examples of music we both knew and liked, such as Manu Chao (Clandestino) and Lila Downs (Paloma Negra); Manu Chao is someone I'm surprised hasn't enjoyed more success up north.   Just before I met her a friend had introduced me to Los Caifanes, but she has been a life-long fan - the belong to her generation from Mexico City, and beyond I'd guess (Hasta Morir).  A great Mexican band.  The lead singer currently has a restaurant here in Playa del Carmen - I guess it's really his wife.  (Slightly off topic, I've also heard a rumour that one of the Grateful Dead owns a condo in one of the nice gated communities.  Who knows if it's true.)  In a couple completely out-of-the-ordinary cases, I actually got my wife into a some music from mostly Latin traditions, like Bebel Gilberto and the Gotan Project, which I had become acquainted with only slightly before.

The funny thing is, our 3-year-old son has been able to identify who any given band "belongs to" fairly clearly for about a year now.  I first discovered this one day when I put on Pink Floyd while he was outside playing.  When he came in, he heard the music and complained; "Ai Papa!  No dad music.  Mom music."  He turned off Pink Floyd (something he had already figured out how to do) and asked my wife to put on something he could dance to - I think he was content with Black-Eyed Peas (that's definitely hers, not mine.)  The ones I mentioned in the last paragraph were the only ones somewhat confusing for him, but he clearly identifies "Amon Tobin" as mine; I
think he could understand musical distinction as early as linguistic distinction between his two parents

Our musical "upbringing" is on the whole fairly distinct.  I was raised sitting around a record player with my brothers listening to old country.   She grew up with her dad playing the guitar in a typical "trio" type band, who like to meet and play on Sunday mornings in Chapultapec - Mexico City's largest urban park.  (I randomly found him there once, wearing a nice suit, playing and singing.)  I think the style is called "bolero."  The only possible overlap in our early music exposure could have been the norteño music my dad loves - he grew up in Zacatecas in a Mennonite community.  But these records were, which my dad had gone to great efforts to find in Detroit's Mexican Village were rare exceptions to the usual Johnny Cash, Charley Pride and Marty Robbins (who, incidentally was heavily influenced by Gordon Lightfoot).  He could also play his favorite tunes on the harmonica.  The biggest coincidence is that one or two of these favorites of my dad's were also old favorites of my mother-in-law.  (The second very small overlap of about 2 songs in mine and my wife's musical backgrounds.)

Although neither of us is the kind of person who owns a thousand discs, and our musical discovery has been a little stalled as of late, musical exchange has definitely been a fairly rich part of the cultural exchange we've shared.  I think all couples share something like this, but we had the unique benefit of coming from two very distinct musical-cultural backgrounds.

P.S.  I didn't have time to put in a YouTube link for all of the musicians I mention, or even check if all of the links were the best one available, but maybe I'll check later.  I hope they're helpful.