Farewell to the Piano?

Over the past few days, I’ve been thinking a lot about a beautiful piano composition called Farewell to the Piano, originally known as Abschied vom Klavier.   Although its attribution to Ludwig von Beethoven is questioned, the story goes that Beethoven composed this tender little piece to bid adieu to his beloved instrument as his deafness grew more and more profound.  The song first came to mind while practicing for my piano recital, and it’s been echoing in the concert hall of my mind ever since.  It makes me wonder whether it’s time for me to bid farewell to the piano.

I’ve been taking piano lessons for the good part of nearly forty years now, and you’d never know it.  You see, God blessed me with a keen ear for music – I can predict the top 10 American Idol finalists in their first audition and can pick out a single sour note buried deep within a 50 piece orchestra.  I love all sorts of music, and music plays an important role in my spirituality.  But while the good Lord was busy installing the gift of music in my ears, he neglected to endow my hands with a lick of the dexterity needed to make good music.  You can imagine, then, the frustration I feel every time my good ears hear the bad music generated by my clumsy hands in their futile attempt to tickle the ivories.

     

Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’m extra hard on myself and that I notice my mistakes much more than anyone else does (except for my piano teacher).  I know that I’m not a bad piano player, but I also know that I’m not a good piano player either.  I’m consistently inconsistent.  In one moment, I’ll nail a piece; in the next, I’ll make mistakes that I’ve never made before.  That inconsistency fuels an insecurity that makes me very uncomfortable playing in front of other people.  That’s why recital time makes me wonder whether it’s finally time to bid farewell to the piano.

I firmly believe that God gave us every talent we have to use for the benefit of others; but I also believe that God didn’t give us every talent.  We can’t be good at everything.  I’ve never been good at sports or fixing things, but I have other talents that have brought me great joy and success.  Hopefully, they’ve benefited others as well.  That being the case, I have to ask myself whether I’m wasting my time (and money) trying to master a talent that I wasn’t given.  Isn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result?  Could my energies be better spent exercising a real talent that might actually do someone some good?  Perhaps, but I also have to consider whether pursuing the seemingly unachievable is doing me some good.  If nothing else, playing the piano keeps me well-fed on humble pie, reminding me (over and over again) that I’m not practically perfect in every way. 

          I was having so much trouble this year with my recital piece that I considered bailing from the recital.  Although the audience is tremendously forgiving, my practice runs through the music were consistently inconsistent, and I just didn’t feel like making a fool out of myself.  In the end, I decided that I had to go.  I had encouraged another adult student to play in the recital, so I felt obligated to put up or shut up.  I also felt that I owed it to my piano teacher, who had survived yet another year with her indisputably most challenging student, and to my daughter, whom I “harp” on regularly to practice her instrument of choice.  The recital was yesterday.  I played my piece, and it was fine; not perfect, but fine.   With that frustratingly familiar result in hand, I wonder whether it’s time to bid farewell to the piano.  Nah.  Pass the humble pie.

Click here to listen to Farewell to the Piano.

A Prayer for Peace

For all touched by the senseless violence in Orlando, and for all praying for peace.
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord.  And let perpetual light shine upon them.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen

Prayer of Saint Francis

Pointing Fingers - Homily for the Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

          Frank was concerned that his wife Pat was having hearing problems, so he called the family doctor to discuss what to do.  The doctor gave him a simple test to help assess how bad her hearing loss was.  The doctor said, “Stand about 40 feet away from her and speak to her in a normal conversational tone.  If she doesn’t hear you, stand about 30 feet away and try again, then 20 feet away, and so on.”   That night, when Pat was in the kitchen cooking dinner, Frank stood about 40 feet away from her and asked in a normal tone, “Honey, what’s for dinner?”  There was no response, so he moved closer, about 30 feet away, and repeated, “Honey, what’s for dinner?”  No response.  Twenty feet, 10 feet, still no response.  So Frank stood right behind her and asked one last time, “Honey, what’s for dinner?”  Finally, Pat answered: “Frank, for the fifth time, I said we’re having chicken.  Do you have a hearing problem?”  As Bob Marley said, “Before you start pointing fingers, make sure your hands are clean.”  And that’s the message of today’s readings.[1]

          If today’s readings teach us anything, they confirm that the problem of finger pointing is one of Biblical proportions.  King David, in our first reading, has no problem pointing a condemning finger at the hypothetical rich man who helped himself to the poor man’s prized lamb.  Yet, he fails to realize that Nathan’s parable was all about his own sin of taking another man’s wife as his own.  And the Pharisee in our Gospel is quick to point out the sinfulness of the woman anointing Jesus’ feet.  But he fails to see his own shortcomings as a rude host who has neglected to offer Jesus the customary welcoming rituals of the time.  It seems that we mortals have a tendency to point fingers at others.  Why is that?

          People point fingers at others to deflect attention from our own faults and sinfulness.  “When we can’t bear to see something painful in ourselves, we want to get rid of it.  We want to relocate the ugliness we feel about ourselves and put it into someone else.”[2]  Psychologists call this subconscious phenomenon “projective identification.”  We project our unwanted behaviors away from ourselves by identifying unwanted behaviors in others.  Once identified in another person, sinful acts become safely condemnable, or so we think.  Because in reality, when we point fingers at others, we don’t define them; we define ourselves. Think about it.  If I condemn someone’s appearance, then I’m insecure about my own.  If I condemn someone’s wealth, then I’m covetous of that wealth.  If I condemn someone’s success, then I’m envious of his success.  As illogical as this behavior sounds, we do it all the time.  That’s exactly what King David and the Pharisee are doing in today’s readings.

          Pointing fingers is a pointless exercise because judging another’s sinfulness is like comparing apples to oranges.  “You commit the sins that tempt you, and I the sins that tempt me.”[3]  While we may feel good about ourselves for not committing other people’s sins, there’s no virtue in not committing sins that don’t tempt you.  We’re also not qualified to judge others.  “We can only judge if we can fulfill two conditions:  that we know the other’s heart totally, and that we love them unconditionally.   Only God can possibly meet these two conditions, therefore, only God can judge.”[4]  And how does God judge?  By offering complete forgiveness and mercy to all who are willing to accept it. 

          All four readings this evening emphasize God’s never-ending willingness to forgive.  “Throughout salvation history, God’s love is so great that he never stops forgiving people’s sins and giving them another chance at repentance.”[5]   But before we can receive God’s forgiveness, we have to point a finger at ourselves, acknowledge our own sinfulness and accept that we need God’s forgiveness.  “Before we can be cured, we must want to be cured.”[6]  And therein lies our challenge.  I’ll be the first to admit that confession isn’t my favorite sacrament.  It’s not easy to confess our sins; it requires self-awareness, self-accusation and a whole lot of humility.  But fear not, in the words of Saint Cyril of Jerusalem:  “Your accumulated sins do not prevail against the wealth of God’s compassion; the supreme physician is too experienced to be defeated by your wounds.  Just hand yourself over in faith and tell the doctor your disease.”[7]  So it’s up to us.  “God never tires of forgiving us; we’re the ones who tire of seeking his mercy.”[8]

          This Jubilee Year of Mercy isn’t just an occasion to let heat and air conditioning escape through fancy, open doors.  By declaring a Jubilee Year of Mercy, Pope Francis is calling every one of us to remember that God’s mercy endures forever, and he’s challenging us to accept the gift of God’s mercy so that, together, we can be a Church whose doors are always open to offer mercy to others.  Mercy begins with acknowledging that we, ourselves, need mercy.  Mercy begins with understanding that every time we point a finger at another, three fingers are always pointing right back at us.    

Readings:  2 Sam. 12: 7-10, 13; Psalm 32; Gal. 2: 16, 19-21; Luke 7: 36-8:3

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[1] Bob Marley, Judge Not, Beverley’s (1962).

[2] Jennifer Kunst, “Three Fingers Pointing Back to You:  Why We See the Bad in Others Rather Than Ourselves,” Psychology Today (September 14, 2011), https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/headshrinkers-guide-the-galaxy/201109/three-fingers-pointing-back-you.

[3] Frank Sheed, Society and Sanity:  Understanding How to Live Well Together (San Francisco, Ignatius Press, 2013).

[4] Wayne Teasdale, The Mystic Heart: Discovering Universal Spirituality in the World’s Religions (Novato, New World Library, 2001) at 122-123.

[5] The Didache Bible, 2 Samuel 12 at note 12:13, p. 343.

[6] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (San Francisco, Harper Collins, 2001) at 54.

[7] Saint Cyril of Jerusalem, Catechetical Lectures, 2.6.

[8] Pope Francis, Evangelii Gaudium (Vatican City, Libreria Editrice Vaticana, Nov. 24, 2013) at 3.