Month: February 2021

In the first reading from Levitcus (13:1-2, 44-46), we hear proclaimed the horrible fate of isolation that the disease Leprosy placed on the one afflicted. Not only were the afflicted faced with the pain and inevitable death sentence the disease had in store for them, the afflicted lose their connection with their family, and with their community. Their family and their community must grieve the afflicted as already dead to them. The afflicted then are expelled from their families and their community and wander into their destiny of isolation, doomed to die a lonely death.

As Ruthie and I reflected on this reading, we were drawn to our present situation. A plague as deadly and as isolating as Leprosy is afflicting the lives of so many. Over 440,000 have died in many ways as alone and as isolated as those wretched mentioned in Leviticus. The grimness as palpable now as it was then.

And then, we get to the Gospel of the day. In Mark (1:40-45) we encounter Jesus responding to the entreaty of the Leper to be healed from the curse of his disease and the horrific isolation he is experiencing as a result. Jesus, instead of being repelled by the man, breaks Mosaic Law, reaches out to the man and touches him, skin upon skin. The man is instantly healed. Jesus then commands the man to go and show the authorities that he is free from disease, with the usual Marcan command to NOT tell anyone who cured him (the Messianic secret). Jesus did not only restore the man to good health. In healing the man, Jesus restored the man to his family and to his community. To his family and community, Leprosy made the man dead. Jesus, in effect, raised the man from that death, and restored him alive to his family and community.

We do not have to be afflicted with Leprosy or Covid-19 to experience hopelessness and isolation. We all have our afflictions, some of them hereditary, some of them imposed upon us, and some, we impose upon ourselves. Our afflictions can be as debilitating and as isolating as that of the plagues that has taken their toll on human life. As with the Leper in the Gospel, we are not doomed to live in isolation. Just as Jesus raised the Leper to new life, so Jesus offers to do the same for us. Jesus reaches out and touches our lives, letting us know that in spite of whatever afflicts us, we are loved eternally by God.

Jesus touches our lives and heals our lives in so many ways. We must be open to the different ways Jesus reaches out to us and heals us. So often we experience the healing power of Jesus through those who listen to us, who speak to us, who pray for us, through those who support us and our needs. Jesus, working through others, liberates us from the isolation in which our afflictions place us.

So on this last Sunday before we begin our Lenten journey, we celebrate the continuation of Jesus’ healing in our lives. In the Paschal Mystery that is a part of our lives, Jesus continues to restore us to life.

Here is a bit of a memory from my Biology class, my junior year. Mr Simmons, was my biology teacher. Following the prerequisite dissecting of fish and frogs, Mr Simmons gave us the assignment of a term paper. I was trying to figure out something that would be a little more creative than the normal term paper. The topic I ended up doing, with Mr Simmon’s approval, was “The Effect of the Bubonic Plague on World Literature”.

The Bubonic Plague, aka “The Black Plague”, which cut a horrific swathe through Middle Ages Europe influenced a lot of art, music, and literature. The Bubonic Plague was not new to Europe. It had inflicted great death upon European populations prior to the Middle Ages, however, not at quite the toll of death as it had in the Middle Ages (it is estimated to have killed 2 million to 4 million people over a period of four years). In ancient Greece, a war between Athens and Sparta ended because of the Bubonic Plague. Sparta was laying siege to Athens. The plague was decimating the Athenian population as greatly as the Spartans. However, some genius among the Athenians decided that misery loves company, and the Athenians started to catapult the dead bodies of those deceased Athenians who died from the plague into the ranks of the Spartans who surrounded the city. When the plague started to spread among the Spartan Army, the Spartans beat a hasty retreat back to Sparta. I learned this by reading the Greek Athenian General Thucydides account of this in his book, The History of the Peloponnesian War.

Of all the literature about which I wrote, the other book I really enjoyed was Boccaccio’s The Decameron (literally 100 tales). Boccaccio wrote about 7 young noblewomen and 3 young noblemen from Florence, who escaped from the Black Death to a secluded villa. Over a period of two weeks, each person was required to tell one story each night. Some of these stories had noble subjects, however, over the period of the two weeks, the stories got more raunchy and downright pornographic (for that time). I remember distinctly the story of one young hermit working out his libido on a young hermitess by putting the “devil into hell.” Needless to say, I enjoyed The Decameron far more than I had the rather dry account of Thucydides account of the Peloponnesian War. Not having quite mastered the 100 words a minute in Mrs Lewis’ typing class yet, my mother got to type the term paper. I think I saw her eyebrows raise a bit as I was describing some of the stories from The Decameron.

For whatever it was worth, I believe I got an A from Mr Simmons on the term paper.

I was thinking of this over the past year as we have been enduring the various surges of our current pandemic. As many of you, I have known quite a few people who have been infected, and sadly, known a number of people of various ages, who have also died because of this pandemic. While Ruthie and I have been sheltering in place throughout most of this year, I decided to spend the months of July and August of 2020 writing and composing music. The subject of the music and poems can be summed up in the title of the music, “Musical Reflections On A Pandemic”.

As grim as the title may sound, neither the music nor the poems are grim, well, some of them are a little grim. Granted I did a prelude and fugue in two parts, relating a story from my nephew who lives in Chicago who recounted that as my grand nephew was being born in a Chicago hospital last April, two stories about the maternity ward, people were dying in droves from Covid 19. However, at the same time, I was musing as to how the pandemic was affecting the love life of adolescents, wondering do teenagers still park and make out these days, or don’t they? Below is the music and the poem that accompanies that musing, entitle “An Estampie For Would Be Lovers” (an estampie was a common dance during the Middle Ages).

AN ESTAMPIE FOR WOULD BE LOVERS

Ah, those isolated places where once
cars and bodies huddled together,
the “lovers’ lanes”, in which
submarine races were observed
with no winners posted,
“to score”, an abashed innuendo
of conquest and shame.
These secluded spots.
grass trampled down by
blankets and cars,
where sexuality was explored,
car windows fogged over
by the breath of its occupants,
shaky adolescent hands
fumbling with buttons and catches,
a stroke here, a grope there,
an indignant slap leaving its mark
across the cheek of the offending,
and the hickey, the mark of Cain,
adorning the neck of the willing.

Only overgrown grasses now
huddle together with overgrown weeds,
hiding from sight these lots
these lots vacant of humanity
and near occasions of sin.
A pandemic plucks the blossoms
off of young adolescent love.
Social distancing causing
near occasions of sin,
minor and major,
literally out of reach.
The facial mask, the chastity
belt for the lips, thwarting
even the most chaste of kisses.
The buildup of hormones threaten
to burst adolescents asunder.
Confessionals as empty as
hospital maternity wards,
I fear for the propagation
Of the human race.

(c) 2020, Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.

Music and Poem from Musical Reflections on a Pandemic include the following:

Juxtaposition 1: A Prelude for a Dying Love One; a Fugue for a Newborn Infant
An Estampie for Would Be Lovers
Song for the Unknown Dead
A Frolic for Children and Puppies
Juxtaposition 2: A Berceuse for a Deceased Love One; A Waltz for a Newly Married Couple
Sheltering in Love, A Rhapsody for Ruth
The Feast of Fools, A Pandemic Danse Macabre
March of a Solitary Sentry
A Nocturne for Our Medical Heroes
Hymn to Our God of Many Faces

If you are interested in the other music from this song cycle, you can find it for free on You Tube or stream it on Spotify and other streaming services. You will also find it on iTunes and Amazon, under the name Robert Charles Wagner (I know that sounds pretentious but it is the rule of those composing “classical” music to compose under their full names e.g. Johann Sebastian Bach, Ludwig Von Beethoven, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart etc).

I transferred my junior year to St Bernard’s the Fall of 1968. I had previously gone to a Benedictine high school in Lisle, Illinois (Benet Academy, formerly St Procopius), when my dad’s company transferred him from Chicago to St Paul. While the Benedictines taught at both schools, Benet Academy was a fairly high end Chicago suburban high school. However, St Bernard’s was an inner city high school. The campus of Benet Academy, located across the highway from St Procopius Abbey, dwarfed the small campus of St Bernard’s. It was a bit of a culture shock for me, but all for the better. St Bernard’s was earthy, grounded in the every day life of those who taught there and those who were students. There was no pretense at St Bernard’s. Benet Academy was a very good school, but much of what we have seen in all those John Hughes movies based in Chicago, was also a part of the culture at Benet Academy.

I could not have received a better education than that I received at St Bernard’s. However, as good an education I received at St Bernard’s, it was not my education from the school that I have valued the most. Quite simply, what I value the greatest from St Bernard’s is the beautiful girl pictured above, Ruth Ahmann. Ruthie was the first person who greeted me my first day at St Bernard’s. I think I may have been a bit of curiosity among the rest of my classmates, but not so to Ruth. When I got to band, Mr Nequette directed me to my chair next to Ruth. She flashed that beautiful smile at me and greeted me so warmly. I felt like I was at home. In those brief moments before band practiced started, I learned that Ruthie lived with her Aunt Ev and Uncle Harold on Marion Street. I learned she was a senior in high school. I also learned that she could play circles around me on the French Horn.

It took me eight month to gather up the courage to ask her out on a date. A junior in high school asking out a senior in high school? Yet, she said yes. On May 29, 1969, we went out on our first date, and saw the movie “Charly” at the World Theater in St Paul. It was not going to be our last date. On May 29, 2018, in honor of the 49th anniversary of our first date, I composed the following song for her.

This past December 27th, we celebrated our 46th wedding anniversary.

Back in 2011, when I was on a nearly year long medical leave, I remembered that first date on May 29th with this short poem.

FIRST DATE

Pouring down rain drenching the night
as I climb the steps to your  home.
With one knock, light from within
greets me, and there you stand,
the scent of herbal essence from your hair,
your brown eyes looking deep into my soul.
You bid farewell to your Aunt and Uncle,
open the screen door
and step outdoors.
The drenching rain suddenly
frozen in time
as your hand touches mine
and you laugh,
aware of the secret
I have hidden deep within.

What was the secret? It was quite simple. I was head over heels in love with her. I am still crazy about this beautiful woman.