What I’ve been reading backstage

With tech week, the run of a show, and long waits for a few recent auditions, I’ve been getting caught up on my “to-read” list (and doing a few crossword puzzles to keep things interesting).

The Glass Castle: A Memoir
by Jeannette Walls

I had read the first chapter of this book months ago and was eager to dive in to Walls’ memoir. Raised by two creative but mentally unstable parents, Walls had a childhood that was nearly unfathomable in its chaos and challenges. What made her story so touching was the deep love and compassion with which she treated her parents, both in life and in writing. When she got to the tying-up-loose-ends portion of the book, which I found really dry in the last memoir I read, I found myself engaged and desperate to know what happened to everyone. I finished the book really admiring the author, which is no small feat for a snob like myself.

In brief: Life is hard. Love anyway. Even your disturbed parents who made you live in squalor and could have ruined your life. 

The Chaperone
by Laura Moriarty

Cora Carlisle needs to go on an Epic Quest for Answers, and Louise Brooks, whose parents seek a chaperone for her trip to New York City, provides Cora with a reason to go back east from Wichita and Seek the Truth. Along the way, Louise also teachers her some Deep Lessons about Liberation and Not Wearing Corsets.

Aside from some moments that were a little heavy handed in their treatment of social issues (at times I found myself sighing every time the Corset Symbolic of Old-Fashioned Concepts of Femininity came up), this book was maddeningly enjoyable. Each plot twist seemed more preposterous than the one before, but I was happy to be along for the ride.

In brief: Just when you thought things couldn’t get any weirder…/Waiting for the twenty-first amendment.

The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun
by Gretchen Rubin

I don’t know what possessed me to pick up this book. Oh who am I kidding: I grabbed it because I like the color blue on the cover. I am not really into the self-help genre, therefore I didn’t particularly enjoy this book. (Disclosure: I didn’t end up finishing it. By the time I got to the chapter on June I really wasn’t interested anymore).

I was reminded of a sweatshirt one of the spiritual directors wore on my recent retreat. It read “Meditate: Don’t just do something, sit there!” Rubin’s suggestions for Happiness were an action plan (including many items/actions that came with a price tag), which is the last thing a type A person like myself needs. Completing a to-do list might make me satisfied, but it doesn’t carry any deep significance for my emotional state.

To her credit, Rubin acknowledges the limited scope of her project. She doesn’t promise bliss or harmonic convergence, just run of the mill happiness, which apparently is harder to find than I realized.

In brief: The kind of self-help book I might like if I liked self-help books.

The Fault in Our Stars
by John Green

Is there a male version of an “It-Girl”? If so, that’s John Green right now. Of course he only came to my attention a few weeks ago, but I quickly got my hands on a copy of his most-buzzed-about book, a novel about teenagers-in-love-who-have-cancer.

Warned it was an ugly-cry sort of book, I went out on a limb and started reading it at a call-back audition that involved a lot of waiting. I figured I could make it through the first 100 pages or so without gulping sobs. I finished it that same evening at home where I could ugly-cry without shame.

I’m always skeptical of works of art that are billed as “irreverent”, because that often means “flouting social norms just because it seems edgy”. In this case, Green’s irreverence seemed more like “my sense of humor”. He had me on page 24, when his teenage narrator recounts her first cancer diagnosis:

The diagnosis came three months after I got my first period. Like: Congratulations! You’re a woman. Now die.

The balance of humor and tragedy, of light and dark, was brilliantly maintained throughout. Seeing the world through the eyes of teenagers with cancer certainly took me out of my comfort zone, but I was happy to go there. The narrator was a particularly well-drawn character, though I felt like some of the other characters I never quite got to know. Her tenderness toward her parents and recognition of their suffering provided some of the most moving moments of the novel.

In brief: Life for some people is unimaginably hard. Love anyway. 

I’m still figuring what should be on my to-read list as we cruise into summer. Suggestions?

Disclosure: This post contains Amazon Affiliate links. Purchases made through these links send some change back into my piggy bank.

A strong driving wind

I read the first reading of today’s readings for Pentecost at my Confirmation. I loved the auditory “image” of a sound like a strong driving wind – something swirling into the room that had the power to embolden, to change life and people for the better.

Through the peculiarities of Archdiocesan scheduling, my parish confirmed its teens during the late fall of their junior year. I remember thinking at the time that for the next year and a half I would be having a lot of experiences that people told me would be important forever: proms and awards and graduations and the rest of the rituals we associate with the end of adolescence. I knew, though I think I was socially astute enough not to tell anyone, that my Confirmation was the only one of these that would remain truly important to me.

(Years later a colleague would ask me “Do you think the most important event in your life has already happened to you?” and I replied without missing a beat “Yes. My baptism.” He laughed and shook his head and told me that answer was hard to top.

My obsession with the sacraments would be precious if I weren’t so down-to-earth, yes?)

Bishop Rozazza of Hartford presided. He asked if I took Philomena as my confirmation name because it was my grandmother’s name. (It was my grandmothers name, but I took it also because I wanted to be a Fi Lumena – a friend of the light). He wanted to know if she’d lived in Hartford – maybe he knew her? – but no, my grandmother, christened Philomena but turned by life, xenophobia, marriage and cosmic alliterative humor into Phyllis Felice, had never lived in Hartford.

Bishop Rozazza also introduced me to my favorite quip about my Italian and Irish heritage: Gaelic and Garlic.

I remember what I wore, one of my typical small-town slightly-overweight unfashionable attempts at looking nice. It didn’t matter. Speaking of things that didn’t matter, my confirmation happened to occur during the three-week period of my first thirty years when I had someone I called a boyfriend. I sat close to him on the couch with some other friends during the afterparty.

(A few weeks later he called while I was at the piano. I realized I would rather go back to my beginner’s sonata that make our strained attempts at small talk. I was just going along with the whole dating thing because it seemed like something teenagers were supposed to do. I stopped calling him. It would be another 15 years before I made it past a third date.)

A dear aunt was my sponsor. My mother gave me a statue of Our Lady of Grace, claiming she thought I could use a little grace (I was a prickly, moody teenager), and pointing out that it wouldn’t hurt to believe that the Blessed Virgin had a wacky eye like my statue did.

I’m sure I got a little money, which I probably should have spent on clothes that fit, but I wouldn’t get to that until my sophomore year of college.

When I looked at the readings today I despaired: so many choices. A little more last supper discourse, perhaps? Or Jesus’ gift of peace? A few Pauline choices in the second reading as well. How was I going to choose the snippets that spoke to the most readers?

Maybe that’s a gift of Scripture, of the lectionary, and of God. There are too many passages about God’s promise of ongoing interaction with the world to limit ourselves to just a few. The Holy Spirit came at Pentecost and stayed with us, not as a dormant historical relic but as the wind and fire that we can still recognize if we look for it.

That may have been what my 15-year-old self know, the kernel of wisdom that the Holy Spirit granted me when She came to me in a particular way on a Saturday afternoon in the fall all those years ago: that the Spirit wasn’t going anywhere. I would move out of my parents’ house and the Bishop would retire and I’d break up with guys and move to a big city and learn how to dress and blow out my hair and pluck my eyebrows and some times I would look back on the person I used to be and think “There is no possible way that was me.”

The thread that holds it all together has been the wind blowing through my life and the fire kindled within me. For all that I’ve changed and the world has changed, the Spirit has stayed the same, turning herself to offer me the facets I’ve needed at the time: consolation, excitement, indignation, or joy.

Thank God, literally, for the gift of the Holy Spirit. A blessed Pentecost to you all.

Seven things I’m working on this summer

With the weather finally turning warm in Boston, I am starting to dream of the semi-leisurely days of summer that are right around the corner. Slowly my academic-year responsibilities drop off, and I have more time here and there. This is when I start to dream of big projects, some of which I might even accomplish! A few of these will undoubtedly be done, a few are just dreams, but it’s the right time of year for fanciful imagination.

— 1 —

An iBook on the French Revolution

I have been given a grant to write two iBooks this summer. They won’t be full length – just long enough to teach a unit in my classes. The first is on the French Revolution, particularly, of course, on its effect on the Catholic Church. The more that I learn about the Revolution, the more I’m convinced that the Church is still unpacking the effects of that era.

— 2 —

An iBook on the Papacy in the 19th century

Most of this will focus on the towering, influential papacy of Pius IX, but I’m also interested in Gregory XVI and Leo XIII. The role of the Pope changed so dramatically, in part because of the Italian Revolution, and also due to the wages of (you guessed it) the French Revolution. Understanding how the papacy came to be what it is today is impossible without and understanding of the changes in the 19th century.

— 3 —

A masterclass on “Dramatic Expression in the Sacred Aria”

The masterclass itself is not as exciting as where I’ll be presenting it: Assisi! I will be participating in the Assisi Performing Arts Festival for three weeks in July. Most of my work will be singing, but I’ll also be teaching this masterclass, hoping to help other singers find the line between expressiveness and stillness that is hard to find and that is crucial for the presentation of oratorio.

— 4 —

The role of Pamina in The Magic Flute

Also at this festival, I will be performing in The Magic Flute, in English. The role of Pamina is one I’ve wanted to learn for a long time, and I’m excited to have a reason to prepare it.

— 5 —

Missa Orbis Factor

A third major component of this festival will be singing with the Cappella Giulia (the Vatican choir) for their 500th anniversary celebration. I already know the Missa Orbis Factor, but I mention this as number five just so I can brag about singing at the Vatican in July. The last time I sang there was ten years ago, and the last time I was there at all was five years ago. I have the itch to get back to Europe, so this couldn’t come at a better time. I plan to keep you all updated on my adventures!

— 6 —

An herb garden

After losing last year’s attempt at urban gardening, I have high hopes to get it right this year. I’m hoping to put together a window box of cooking herbs and one of tea herbs, and to have a tomato plant and maybe even some edible greens. I make these claims realizing that it is mid-May and all I have so far is a pathetic basil plant I bought at Trader Joe’s. Any tips for container gardening will be much appreciated!

— 7 —

Vegetarian grill recipes

My sweetheart is a master griller, and somehow took a vegetarian girlfriend in stride. Together we have prepped panini and portobellos, grilled greens and experimented with eggplant. This summer I’m hoping to diversify our dinners, so please send me any of your favorite vegetarian grill recipes!

What are you doing this summer?

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Arts and Faith – a new series from Loyola Press

If you are not familiar with the good work that is being done at LoyolaPress.com, your homework is to go on over there right away and check them out (finish reading my post first, of course!) With educational resources, the 3-minute retreat, a wide variety of books and extensive reflections on Ignatian Spirituality, Loyola Press has long impressed me with their work both in print and online.

Today they kick off a new series on Arts and Faith. In their own words:

Arts and Faith is a collection of stories from Catholics around the globe who demonstrate the inspiring—and surprising—ways art expresses and deepens their relationship with God.

The special series kicks off on LoyolaPress.com with daily articles, videos, slide shows, podcasts and more from four categories of interpretive art: Music, Dance, Drama and Visual Arts.

You may notice that the press release mentions a religion teacher who prays while singing opera. Sound like anyone we know? I will be featured in the series on June 6 in a video recorded in late 2012. All I really remember about the filming was that I agonized over whether or not to wear my glasses. Now I don’t remember what I decided.

Tune in on June 6 to find out. Until then, be sure to visit the new Arts and Faith section from Loyola Press to read other stories of prayerful creativity, and to share your own.

What have been your experiences of the intersection of art and faith?

Stage makeup at Mass

If I were better at marketing myself, or at least at branding my blog, I would just do one thing, and write about that. Do the people who visit the blog because they want to read about singing and performing get disgusted with all this God Stuff? Or do the liturgists who came here for an unexpectedly viral post about the pipe organ roll their eyes when I get going about what I do on stage? And what about when I write about running, or living in a big city? Worst of all, what about when I get all “meta” and write about writing?

When I put it all like that, this blog sounds intolerable. 

This weekend we wrapped up a run of The Sound of Music with a Sunday matinee. After singing that last high C in Climb Ev’ry Mountain and blowing a kiss to my mom during curtain call, I quickly kicked the habit (get it?) and started helping with strike.

Together with the rest of the cast I wiped down dressing room counters, carried music stands, tied and re-tied curtains and peeled spike tape off the stage. We took a break for some pizza and next thing I knew I had to be out the door to get to rehearsal for the collegiate choir I conduct for Sunday night mass.

I got to the church right on time, we ran our music, said a prayer and headed out into the chapel to offer our ministry. There was just one problem. I still had my stage makeup on.

Don’t get me wrong, I had not caked on the greasepaint to play a nun. But there was a fair amount of Mehron stick makeup adorning my cheeks, nose and forehead. I was grateful for the low lighting, and that no one was going to get to close.

So there’s a decent summary of the life I lead: wearing stage makeup for mass. What can I say? I do more than one thing, and sometimes I do those things back to back. Perhaps my life would be easier if I just had one passion: theater or singing or liturgy or fitness or ecclesiology or history or languages or food. But as it is I love many things, and that is a blessing, not a curse.

All of these are held together by a love of creation: that which has been created and the ways we participate in God’s creative Spirit. The world will keep turning if I do too many things, mass will go on if my face isn’t washed.

The sky before the rain

The sky this weekend spent a lot of time in the state between sun and rain.

I hate that. Just rain already.

When I know something I won’t like is coming, when I know something I enjoy must end, it weighs on me. This is a terrible flaw of mine. I let the anticipation of the eventual end of something good temper my enjoyment of it. The moment of anticipation of a downpour is worse than the rain itself.

The moment between “we need to schedule a meeting” and some chastisement, between “call me back right away” and terrible news, between drinking the barium and going into the MRI, between waking from sedation and getting a diagnosis I didn’t even know was on the table, between gathering clouds and rain: those are the moments that make me anxious and even angry. Just start pouring, because once I’m soaked I can’t get any wetter.

It must be my combination of Irish fatalism and Italian fire that makes me see a spring sky this way. When the wind blows a certain way or I’m reminded of mortality I want to shout at the world “Just get it over with and fall apart! You’re going to anyway.”

Sometimes the sun comes back out, though, and I abandon my fixation on entropy and remember there is something other than chaos out there for us. It may feel like forever since I’ve had any sign of it. Still, I know it’s there, though my tired heart and rattled guts try to convince me otherwise.

More though, than being able to appeal to hope or to acquiesce to catastrophe, I wish I could just rest in the liminal moment, and accept the gray sky and damp air as part of the current moment, without apprehension or regret.

So that they may all be one.

Teaching church history, I always feel a little pang when I get to the part of the story when I have to give this speech:

You know how we have been talking about the followers of Jesus as Christians? Well, starting from this time period forward, we have to be more distinct about what kind of Christian we are talking about, because this is when the group starts to split up.

Then I draw my “Christianitree” on the board and everyone laughs and we begin the painful process of remembering who is who, and when things started to fall apart.

The Christianitree.

In the Gospel from this Sunday Jesus prays:

“Holy Father, I pray not only for them,
but also for those who will believe in me through their word,
so that they may all be one,
as you, Father, are in me and I in you,
that they also may be in us,
that the world may believe that you sent me.”

These words compel us to continue to strive for unity, but do any of us know what unity really looks like? Often our version of unity means compelling everyone to be like us, whoever our “us” may be.

It’s interesting to me that this Gospel is paired with the first reading, which recounts the stoning of Stephen. Is this the “I never told you this would be easy” Sunday? Neither of these readings makes me feel very optimistic.

But in the second reading from Revelation we hear:

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last,
the beginning and the end.”

The one who loves and saves us is over all, in all times. So even though our world is violent, even though we are divided, we know that there is one overarching love that winds throughout eternity.