Advent in Germany

I used to think that England had the corner on the Christmas spirit; doesn’t America try to emulate that Dickensian depiction of Christmas each December?  But when I got to Germany and saw the Weihnachts Markt in Köln, I updated my opinion:  Germany has the corner on the Christmas scene!  Never have I seen people out celebrating just being alive as much as I did in Köln on Advent Sunday – and in spite of the appropriately miserable weather (rain, wind, and cold).

I was there to play an organ recital at St. Gereons Kirche – the oldest church in all of Germany, with parts of the building dating back to the fourth century!  Like nearly every church in Germany, it suffered attack in WWII and has been reconstructed as necessary, but the lower level of the octagonal section of the building has original stone (and some of the mosaic flooring) from the fourth century.  Amazing.  And adding to the other-worldly atmosphere, all four levels of the dome structure were illuminated by candlelight at the performance itself.  Magic!

The organ was built by a local builder named Weimbs and was a joy to play.  The tonal character of the instrument leans toward a contemporary sound, with bright mixtures and reed sound.  I was glad to have picked a program with a lot of twentieth century music on it so as to take advantage of the organ’s particular character.  It’s the music that it seems to want to do.

The concert itself, in the late afternoon, took advantage of the dark outside by creating a cozy interior.  Advent Sunday is an important family day for many in Germany, and I didn’t know how many to expect at the concert.  What a delight to see the church completely full – with well over 400 in attendance.  The stunning acoustics were only marginally altered, thankfully, so it was the best of both worlds: the sonic beauty that the organ and building could afford, and the emotional and energetic joy of having a full house of listeners.

German audiences are unique in the world.  No audience seems to hang onto every note, with absolute attention, like German audiences do.  Complete silence is their norm during a performance, so that I, as a performer, am never brought out of the musical experience itself.  It’s as if Germans feel like their life depends on the music.  Perhaps it does.  And perhaps they know something that most of the world has long forgotten.  Music is not an entertainment.  Music informs us who we are.  If we are distracted, unfocused, we cannot open ourselves fully to the possibility of transformation.

I believe that the thing we humans crave most is connection, and we sometimes think that our distractions (whether they be mental distractions, or texting, or anything else) enhance our connections.  Sometimes they can do that.  But in the presence of art and beauty, it’s only by full attention that we can hope to discover that ultimate connection – a connection of spirit to Spirit.  Not in any sort of doctrinal way, but in a way that offers true elation, true transformation, true bliss.