The end of my current editing project is in sight … oh, what a long haul it’s been, though I’ve been working on it for only four days. I know this woman means well; I know she does. She’s full of faith and has a personal relationship with God, and wants very much for everyone around her to share whatever peace she’s found. But she is such a terrible writer. I find myself breathing a sigh of relief when I come across her Biblical quotes; she’s using the KJV, and there is something immensely soothing to me about the rolling periods of that wonderful language. All I have to do is catch her multitude of typographical errors, which invariably include using a zero instead of a capital O at the beginning of any exhortation.
In my cleanup journey through her printed thoughts, I came across a passage I’ve known for years, as it is the text of one of the simplest and best pieces of Renaissance church music. I can’t read the text without hearing this deeply beseeching piece in my mind’s ear, and it occurred to me that Thomas Tallis, taking dictation from some source greater than his own mind, comes far closer to convincing me of the existence of God in this small piece than any of the witness-bearers who have ever tried to save me.
March 24, 2009 at 2:57 am |
Nice. Hubby’s sung that one.
I just got a Lutheran Concordia bible. It’s wonderful for its annotations, but the language is very modern. The pastor who recommended it mentioned something like the KJV requires a 10th grade reading level…as if that was something bad or difficult.
Every time I come across this passage, I immediately hear Handel:
“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”
The language might be “difficult” or out-of-date, but it’s still beautiful.
March 24, 2009 at 3:48 am |
I can’t help but think of the times I tried to help my accompanist with his research papers. When he arrived from Mexico City, he couldn’t speak or understand more than basic, necessary phrases (such as, “What year was Bach born?” and, “Where is the soda machine?”). He studied English for a year before trying to take graduate music history classes……which made for some very interesting papers. It was hard to explain to him that I understood what he was trying to say, that the English words he used were correct, but that we don’t use them quite that way. Spanish prepositional phrases just don’t translate easily.
He also didn’t quite understand footnotes, or citation in general. So he wrote a rather good (if hard to understand in places) 20 page paper on some Bach piano stuffs without a single citation. It was horrifying. Luckily the professor was very understanding and gave him another month to fix it. Something to be said for small colleges.
March 24, 2009 at 4:16 am |
Amy,
I once described a community college “remedial English” class for which I graded papers. The teacher taught the students literature. For some reason, almost the entire class (many of whom were immigrants with uncertain skills in spoken and written English) caught fire with a love of literature. From the point of view of spelling, grammar and usage, the papers were as you phrase it, “horrifying”; nevertheless, they were perhaps the most inspiring group of student papers I ever read.
March 24, 2009 at 10:53 am |
That was devotional, simply beautiful. I sang along – and realised I can still sightread well enough to join a choir. Thank you David!
There’s enough noise in the world obscuring the still small voice, wherever we happen to find it, that an interlude like that can provide the welcome rest from the clamour that we need to reconnect again.
I quite often go to choral evensong in the cathedral here; I’m far from being a Christian, perhaps as far as you can get without meeting yourself coming the other way – but the atmosphere, feeling and emotion in the church is what I go for. Silence, ringing like a bell, measured voices, timeless phrases, calm.
March 24, 2009 at 12:41 pm |
mmm..thank you for a much needed interlude of peace this morning.
March 24, 2009 at 2:11 pm |
I’m ashamed to admit that I only knew of Thomas Tallis thanks to HBO’s “The Tudors.” But I’m not so culturally ignorant as to not be able to recognize a beautiful piece of music. Thanks for sharing that.
March 24, 2009 at 2:44 pm |
That is a beautiful piece of music, thank you.
Regarding the bad writer who means well – there is no excuse for bad writing, if the writer is a professional, that is, getting paid for her work. I don’t care if my dentist means well or not – I expect her to fix my teeth well.
Your descriptions of editing this poor woman’s work are very funny though.
March 24, 2009 at 3:41 pm |
Was this the fellow who wrote the Tallis Canon? As recorded so delightfully by L’Engle? I know next to nothing about any of it, but beautiful all the same.
Dona nobis pacem. . .
and that includes you, David!
March 24, 2009 at 7:28 pm |
How beautiful, thank you. A lovely way to start the day. Btw, I thought I was the only heathen to like such things. Is nice to know I’m not alone.
March 24, 2009 at 11:01 pm |
Another heathen who loves church choral music here. Perhaps we recognise the heart and soul which went into its composition – and possibly its performance?
I love several paintings which are of religious subjects, too, without being a Christian or a Buddhist or anything.
Beauty is universal, surely?
March 25, 2009 at 1:56 am |
As you know, I (literally) feel your pain as if it were my own.
March 25, 2009 at 12:48 pm |
@ Woo, thank “heavens” I’m not the only one. I also love paintings, etc which have religious subjects. I think you’re right about beauty, but for me there’s definitely a spiritual element, a need to fill a definite spiritual void, even if I don’t associate it as being Christian.
March 25, 2009 at 6:25 pm |
One piece of music is worth ten thousand words.
March 25, 2009 at 8:43 pm |
Hi – Just read some of your posts from a couple of years ago on one of your links.
Hysterical.
I fwdd your post Truth about Advertising (or something like that) to a friend.
Gosh – just wanted to say how I appreciate people that can make me laugh!
Like you!
March 26, 2009 at 12:27 am |
Beautiful singing in general has that effect, don’t you think? I find the human voice extraordinarily moving sometimes – transporting, even, verging on epiphanic. It’s the closest I come.
March 26, 2009 at 12:30 am |
Btw, still laughing at her malapropisms of a couple of posts ago – baaaad writing and yet still SO GOOD!!!
March 26, 2009 at 2:22 am |
Dr D — Yes, I do think that beautiful singing has an incredibly transcendent quality.
And the malapropisms just went on and on … she insisted that in order to be a good person, the godly need not be finely-dressed and “coffered.”
Dina — Glad to have given you a laugh! Thanks for visiting … you came over from BTC’s place, I believe.
Phillip — Exactly.
Kerro/Woo — I think it’s quite possible to be deeply spiritual and not identify with organized religion. And I think the best faith-inspired art transcends its specific origin, and becomes universal.
Elissa — Yeah, I know.
LFC — Yep!
Ellen — Thank you for visiting. I’m sure to have more editing stories as time goes by.
JD — I haven’t watched all of “The Tudors” yet, but my guess is, from having seen the first couple of episodes, that they conflated Thomas Tallis with lutenist Mark Smeaton, and that in the TV show, Tallis is accused of being Anne Boleyn’s lover, whereas in real life, he had nothing to do with the whole thing. Am I right?
Gianna — You’re welcome.
Piereth — Singing in a choir is a wonderful thing to do, one’s affiliations notwithstanding.
Mr. Random — Yes, there’s often quite a difference between the worth of what someone says, and the finesse with which they say it.
Amy — Research papers with no citations? Yikes. But at least he knew how to get Bach and soda, and hey, what more do you need in school?
Heni — I hear Handel a lot too, when I come across KJV citations.
March 27, 2009 at 3:47 pm |
I’ve always liked St Francis of Assisi’s take: “Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.” Or music, I suppose. Tallis always makes me think of L’Engle, thanks for the sharing the wonderful clip.
March 27, 2009 at 5:54 pm |
That was beautiful. Thank you for introducing me to it.
April 4, 2009 at 1:36 am |
A fantastic selection. I absolutely agree with you. How anyone can have a spiritual experience with some hokey reciting liturgical text in a Quonset cavern is totally outside my scope of understanding. Give me a choir or a good organ, and a bevy of flying buttresses, and perhaps then I will find religious salvation.
A 0 instead of a O? How does that happen? I understand they are placed near each other on the keyboard, but you should be pressing the shift key if planning to place an O. If she was pressing shift and mistakenly hit the wrong key, then you should be seeing ). Is she trying to be cute?
This is why I’ll never be an editor. Someone may get smacked.
Stephanie aka the Rocket Scientist turned me on to your site. Fabulous work. I’ll be back to pester you with my somewhat daft and often nonsensical feedback.
April 29, 2009 at 12:18 am |
Thanks for the holy and healing music.
And the laughs. You are great.
Kate
June 1, 2009 at 2:45 pm |
[...] http://davidrochester.wordpress.com/2009/03/24/in-which-thomas-tallis-accomplishes-in-two-minutes-wh... [...]
June 2, 2009 at 7:10 am |
Very lovely!
July 10, 2009 at 4:10 am |
[...] am particularly fond of choral music, including this wonderful piece that David also introduced me to. I also like chants (Hildegard is high on my list) and some new age material [...]
July 10, 2009 at 10:55 am |
[...] 2009 · Leave a Comment While I appreciate choral music and chants (as Kerro, Kate1975, and David have all blogged about recently), and even some classical music, for me, bliss usually comes from [...]
July 10, 2009 at 11:11 am |
[...] 2009 · Leave a Comment While I appreciate choral music and chants (as Kerro, Kate1975, and David have all blogged about recently), and even some classical music, for me, bliss usually comes from [...]