The first days of spring were shockingly emotional ... the vision of what I have been brought to in terms of blessings had me in tears on two bookends of the first 12 hours ... the literal sight of what I have been brought from had me laughing gently ... I did not let those involved know I saw why our association was never going to work in a gently humorous but definite way ... and in 12 hours again I had no time for tears because the gravity of my responsibilities announced itself without mistake, and yet all things and people that I needed to handle my duties and care for those I am called for came to me in all good time.
At quiet moments I listened to different arrangements of the last major piece Bach ever considered (if not last composed, last edited): "Vor deinen Thron tret ich hiermit." In this piece, Bach was contemplating standing on high in the presence of the God he had loved and faithfully served all his life, into Whose hands he had released his first wife and at least ten children, for Whose aid he asked at the beginning of many of his pieces, and to Whom he signed off at the end of each of those: Soli Deo Gloria -- to God be the glory.
For all that he accomplished in decades of service in his 65 years, his last choice of text to consider acknowledges that when he stands in God's presence, it will be God's regard for him alone that determines whether he can stand -- and he asks for that regard humbly, as one who knows he is a sinner -- not the great Bach we think of, but as he knew himself.
Bach knew the scripture well. It is the humble prayer that is ever regarded, and his last musical effort, tinged though it is with the reality of him confronting the reality of his approaching death, shows that he in his humility had confidence in the One he asked, and also, great peace.
As I have been in often in prayer, going through this amazing beginning to the spring of 2026, I have taken deep comfort in Bach's last work ... his surety in the humble path as he did his work to the end reminds me that I might also be utterly certain as I continue in the humble way I am called.
I also discovered Maurice Durufle -- and what a discovery of beauty his "Ubi Caritas" was ... I was again in tears ...
... and in that state of mind, another opportunity came to me and just broke me down in the best of ways ... another moment of realizing an open door so huge that I could not have even been offered it before climbing for years in greater and greater humility, going opposite the path of exaltation in the world, going opposite the crowd, going opposite those who desired those paths, accepting being alone relative to all those, accepting that I had to give up even the last tie of "if only!" to them -- just last week!
A door so huge that a person has to become small enough to go through it -- a paradox! That too was Bach's paradox ... the posture of his humility, complete with walking through intense personal suffering, complete with being often overlooked as a musician. Most do not know that he spent much of his career writing music for just one church in Germany, and that church kept telling him to write simpler music. He also lived long enough to be considered old and antiquated, long enough to know much of his music would fall into obscurity because it was already out of style ... and to the last note, he stayed with what he was called to do ... and became arguably the greatest composer in European history, to whom even any composer to be compared with him in greatness looked up. The posture of humility led to the stature of the ages!
My grandmother had a placard that said "Mighty Oaks from Little Acorns Grow" ... while her two little grand-acorns were running around and looking at it. As a child I took that as understanding that everyone starts small and grows up so it was OK to be small ... later she taught me and my sister how to grow food, so we learned that trees and plants also grow up from seed (and thus, mighty oaks from little acorns actually do grow). Sometime in there, I read in the Scripture where it even says that the seed has to go into the soil and die before it can bear fruit.
It took me well into maturity to notice, though: few want the acorn's path to becoming a mighty oak. It took me even further into maturity to understand how dedicated people are to finding shortcuts, both individually and collectively. It took me still further into maturity to understand: there is no path but the acorn's path to becoming a mighty oak. After two solid years-- since the spring of 2024! -- of hearing the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past basso profondically rumbling about
Frau Mathews, what bridge? There is no bridge.
... reality has finally fully settled in. There is no bridge. There never was, nor can there ever be. I cannot do anything but look forward and climb in the company of those doing the same thing. Even looking backwards harms me in that it saps energy I need to keep moving. Now, if at a vista I look and see those moving differently receiving the consequences of their decisions, I can see -- but it is not for me to permit myself to linger there.
At this thought I realized another paradox I had walked into ... in real high-altitude climbing, there are certain decisions that climbers can make such that they have to be left behind by other climbers who want to live. There are kind-hearted climbers, historically, who have bucked that reality, and managed to save others, but it often cost them their lives. By understanding the dynamics of those realities, I realized why I had to be taken from so many in this past decade to climb alone into the life I am living now.
In music, I had this moment in Winterreise ... of all its terrifying moments, there is none for me to beat "Rast," Song no. 10, because of the look it gave me not just into the nature of the character -- brought to rest but preferring the storm; safe, but preferring the deadly danger outside -- but also into myself, who would in such a situation naturally be wishing to do the duty of hospitality with my little cottage out in the way. Yet while people in extreme danger will generally and gladly accept help in the moment, many prefer danger to rest, because in rest and its quiet, they would have to face themselves and the decisions that have put them in their bad situations. Thus, to bring them indoors is to bring the danger in them indoors -- and thus, any such safe space is no longer safe.
Of course, it was Kurt Moll who got this across to me, as only he could. The character is singing about being out of place in the right place, and the regular low-voiced arrangement comfortably suits a baritone. This is about where one can still find comments about people being surprised the German basso profondo actually pulled this whole thing off, because he didn't choose a lower arrangement. He instead used the high side of his voice's huge range for an effect that is one of a kind ... that high, bright, and shockingly beautiful side of the voice of an immense man whom one would delight to bring out of the cold and make as comfortable as possible, only to hear that golden-voiced guest eventually disclose that he cannot rest in the rest because of the serpent hissing and stinging in his heart, and at last get to shouting in his agony-turned-madness at the top of his voice!
I am out of the rescue business nowadays, being fully occupied in climbing where I am called and assisting those called with me.
I was on a day this week considering all these heavy thoughts while getting ready to go do errands, and finding myself with a bit more time to do them than I needed ... I realized I had time to pass through the near meadows if I started out just then and left other matters to be finished later. While I considered the matter, the portal of imagination opened ... and so I was to be allured into those meadows by the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past, employing the even brighter tones of his ethereal voice to caress my ears even at that distance in my favorite song from Richard Strauss, about spring in a valley to whom the character, after his long journey, has returned.
By the time I made it into the meadows, the crowd had formed ... the fanbase of K.M. Altesrouge was growing, and some of them had been sticking tightly to his every appearance, trying to find out about the mystery woman who had him singing them quite out of their wits. But he was quite alone, sitting on the steps of the statue there. He was relaxed and radiant, smiling at every moment he was not forming a word, just having a moment of joy, and inviting everyone near him in. This had always been his superpower ... though otherwise honest, he was always stealing shows and hearts, for who could resist a man so full of gentle, genuine, generous joy?
I did not join the crowd, but remained in the redwood grove out of its sight, in patience, knowing the broadness of his generosity had enough room for all of us ... this was another lesson that I wanted to dig into on another day: he had been the rare superstar who had not been afflicted much with jealous people attempting to tear him down. I suspected it was because of his deep generosity of kindness and joy ... it was hard to have bad feelings about someone like that, no matter what their worldly status was ... the greater they became, the more they had to share, and so... this was a mystery to plumb, and a goal to work toward.
But not this day ... I could hear him greeting his audience and them asking all the questions, but the energy was calm and so were the voices except for his littlest fans -- the children were excited to see "Papa Alteroo" again -- and he moved things along by simply getting into motion. So, off the slowly dispersing crowd went away from there ... and it was not long before he went out of sight going in one direction, but passed under a shadow and simply flashed back into the shadow of the redwoods.
"Thank you for your patience, Frau Mathews," he purred, "particularly since your time is at a premium."
"I rearranged a few things to enjoy some time here," I said.
"A wise decision, Frau Mathews. You are a devoted caretaker, and you are learning ever more deeply that you are being given room in your life to care for yourself ... because you believe the Voice that said to you, 'Come unto Me, you who labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest,' and you are walking in that belief and finding your faith fulfilled."
"Yes," I said.
His smile grew brighter.
"I desire you to make a mental note of the fact that there is actually no paradox between caring for others well and caring for yourself well, although the two are often described in opposition ... yet the opposition only exists in the lack of abundance of resources, or perhaps the lack of knowledge or acquisition of those resources."
I considered this ... that was a lot, right there.
"Today, the resource in question is time. Everyone is allotted 24 hours per day, and life for many is very, very full. But you see that by attending to what is in your calling and not attending to that which is not, there is abundant time -- perhaps still not a great deal owing to your duties, but abundantly enough -- to also take rest. There is no lack of time. There is a necessity to know how to acquire some of it for rest."
By this time we had sat down, our backs against a redwood ... the breeze through the grove was sweet and fresh, and his voice was a warm, deep undertone to the sound of it that was like extra sunshine.
"Close your eyes and rest, Frau Mathews," he said. "I'll wake you in due time. We have already resolved one paradox, and there are just two to go and they will go even faster!"
"Tell me anything in a big bass voice," I purred, and he broke out laughing as he pulled his light jacket off and covered me.
"Schlaf, mein geliebtes Blumenkind," he purred, and the caress of his gentle voice sent me right off to dreamland for a nap.
It seemed like a very long time, and peaceful, before I was awakened.
"Wachet auf, mein geliebtes Blumenkind," he sang, arpeggiating a huge B flat chord starting with his well-known B flat 1 and going up by thirds.
"Showoff," I said, and he just went on and laughed the reverse right back down to B flat 1, after which I added, "I forget you take every comment as encouragement to just do more!"
"Natürlich, Frau Mathews!" he said. "Every performer plays a little bit more to a more appreciative audience!"
"Well, I guess you have me there," I said, and sat up with a smile. "Danke schön."
"Gern geschehen," he purred, and stood up to offer his hand to help me up.
We were then on our way to my last round of errands, but not in such a hurry that we could not see a little more of the near meadows in going...
... and as we were going, he smoothly put forth and resolved one of the two paradoxes remaining.
"The restless man even when rest is possible is one of Schubert's most common themes, and actually a common theme of the Romantic period," he said. "It is a terrible apparent paradox of human existence, and Schubert at least twice chose poets that point to the origin of the problem: the serpent, hissing in a garden, and bringing discontent with him. Discontent in the midst of perfection is a very, very old problem."
"Indeed -- Genesis 3," I said.
"And, that also tells us there is at least a partial common and full special grace resolve for it," he said. "There is on the special grace side of the matter One Who has bruised the serpent's head, and offers rest -- but the cost of that route is all human pride and pomp and attempts to deify one's self. Few there are who truly see the desperation of their condition enough to go that one, narrow path!
"So, we return to the common grace side available to everyone -- it is possible to remove or remove one's self from many sources of disturbance and discontentment so one can rest. Not all: trauma, grief, and loss are at some point in life unavoidable, and not everyone has the support to move past those easily. That is actually part of the tragedy of Winterreise and of Schubert's many wanderers: they have no community. So then, the total resolve becomes finding the right community.
"The special grace solution, in Christ, requires the same thing, because as my ancestors put it, 'Ev'rybody talkin' 'bout Heaven ain't goin' there,'" I said.
"And so at the nexus, Frau Mathews, this is the journey you have been on between heaven and earth: removing yourself from the wrong community, on your way to the right community. Now, certainly, you will absolutely be at home when at home on high -- but because trauma, grief, and loss will certainly be visiting you again here ... in the same way you have been given rest, you are also granted community."
I considered this.
"You sang this to me in 'Aus Heliopolis 2,'" I said. "The happy ending there is not an ending but a new beginning in community."
"I was just waiting," he said with a smile, "to highlight that portion of the song's meaning for you, when you were ready. We shall unpack it another time ... except to say that the paradox of the acorn's path is both the resolve and the greatest challenge here."
"OK, I have been waiting to see what you are going to do with this," I said, and he smiled.
"Are you ready?" he said, his eyes twinkling.
"I'd like to think I am," I said.
"Very well," he said, and became serious. "The paradox of the acorn, who has no path up to become a mighty oak but to go downward -- humility before exaltation -- is resolved very simply and clearly. Just be an acorn, not a human being, and there is no problem at all."
I would have rolled into the street laughing had he not caught me!
"You basso profondo buffo, you!" I cried between peals of laughter.
"But I asked you if you were ready, Frau Mathews," he said, and that mock-hurt tone of his voice with that wounded innocent look belied by the twinkle in his eye had me going for several more minutes!
After that, though, I realized: he was right.
"Human nature is the only part of nature that rejects the reality of growth: things start small and grow up, and there are no shortcuts," he said. "The paradox resolves when one decides to simply get back into step with the testimony of all Creation and accept the process ... but few there are, because of the pride of human nature, who can do this."
"Not a large community," I said.
"Not at all," he said, "but a much more peaceful one."
He sighed.
"There was this stupid young singer, once, a long time ago," he said, "who took 125 parts in a single year to break out -- absolutely ridiculous, really, but, one is young and stupid for a good reason!"
"I think I know of him," I said. "Got known for doing bit parts with excellence and being a joy to work with, so then he got bigger parts, and bigger parts ... ended up Meistersinger a few times, picked up a couple of Grammys, and still has Germany looking for his successor, more than a quarter of the way into this century. Made the best of being young and stupid, indeed!"
"Started small, and grew right on up," he said. "But do you know why 125 parts were even available, Frau Mathews?"
"You know, that is a good question," I said.
"Jerome Hines in an interview explained half of it," he said. "World War II silenced so many ... so many ... ."
For a moment, the World War II childhood survivor got that thousand-yard stare, but then shook himself and continued.
"I will say here that nations make the same mistakes as the people in them," he said, "in rejecting humility and then receiving humiliation for their punishment. This brings us to the second reason: of the surviving German basses of the previous generation and those with me in young manhood, most simply did not want to take those little parts. Some of the conversation around that was tinged with fear: 'I could get stuck in roles like that -- I might get typecast because basses often do!' This is true and indeed does happen often.
"Multiply that by the fact that we as men had already been completely humiliated on the world stage by the loss of two world wars and Germany literally in the hands of its enemies. Some men, given that situation, cannot take what they feel is one more humiliation -- they need a path upward, not downward."
"Except that the acorn knows that the path upward is first downward," I said.
"The acorn has neither fear nor pride," he said, "which is its advantage. But if one is a man, and learns humility and perseverance and willingness to seize every opportunity no matter how small because he knows he is called to that time and place to grow, then he might do almost as well by faith, though he too might be afraid, and although the mocking of prouder men might sting his pride as he goes."
"I can only imagine," I said, "because people do not want to see you doing what they will not and succeeding where they refused to try, so they will find ways to discourage you if you let them."
"One must always stop one's ears to the serpent and his minions, and stay about one's business, indeed," he said. "I am a witness, Frau Mathews, that it works ... and in due time, I found the communities that would support me, all the rest of the way."
"And from that position," I said, "blessed so many others."
He laid his hand on the last redwood before leaving the park.
"It is a series of lessons for you, my darling -- a full-grown tree can host an entire community of life, but it belongs to a forest or a park, and they include massive networks of life beneath the soil in addition to above it."
He paused, and then laid his hand on my shoulder.
"You are walking in obedience to the wisdom of the acorn's path," he said, "which means you are planted where you have the community you need."
"You know, it does meet me everywhere I go in my work in the city!" I said. "The members are everywhere!"
"I am glad that you are recognizing that your community does exist," he said with a smile. "You are growing, Frau Mathews, having healed from the loss of so much past community, having overcome the trauma and the fear ... keep growing, and keep walking. You do have community already -- just broadly spaced out. Now, it is another question whether you will find yourself in a closer circle without putting effort into that, and whether you are ready for that is still another question. None of those need to be answered today."
I looked back for a moment into the park ... how I enjoyed my solitary time there...
"And you need not give it up -- in fact, you had best not," he said. "I suggest to you that preserving it is the key to the success of everything else ... for it is your time to spend with the One Who loves you best, and delights in blessing you. You are well-rooted now; remain so, meine kleine Eichel."
That was so sweet ... and he smiled at my delight and then started laughing.
"I can't call you 'my little star' without you fussing, but you go for 'my little acorn'!"
"Well, as my grandmother had it posted, 'mighty oaks from little acorns grow.'"
"I know," he said gently. "That is the connection, and also a scale that resolves the paradox of your immense size and importance in the circle of your responsibility with your feelings about yourself with so much still to learn in a study that will require eternity."
His smile became even more tender.
"In German of course this requires another nickname," he said, and I started laughing as he started out, his mind just bustling along in a good humor that reminded me so much of the Scherzo in Beethoven's Third Symphony ...
"I have to think about this one a little bit ... meine kleine Eichel ... mein Eichelchen... mein Eichellein ... but if you are rooted already, then mein kleines Eichenbäumchen, my little oak tree of my affection ... Frau Eichenbäumchen ... but then the iron has to come back in ... Frau Eiseneichenbäumchen ... ."
I was leaning back against the tree, just laughing until I cried as he formed longer and longer German compound words...
"My Laughing Flower Child -- mein lachenes Blumenkind -- I think I might like that best of all, and after all, you will be able to get the most of that even though I regret that you are limited in your appreciation of compound words by your first language being English."
"You basso profondo buffo, you!" I cried.
"Guilty as charged," he purred, and then joined me in laughing.
He walked with me to my next appointment and back home, and kept me from getting too wrapped up in the weight of things by popping up with more hilarious Germanic wordplay around the topics of the day ... kept me laughing to my door ... and I wondered about something ... a question way too large for the end of a walk, though ... but I thought about it as he went up with me to my door and then walked lightly down the stairs and down the street, to step around the corner, up home ... and as I dreamed of golden auroras burning rather fiercely at the edges of a night dark as black velvet, spangled with all the Milky Way for jewels.
It was something he had said earlier ... "Every performer plays a little bit more to a more appreciative audience!" ... and a faint insight into the nature of masculinity to the highest levels. Something about keeping that time ... but it would wait another week to explore.
