DREADNEWS: Merce Cunningham Is Dead - Obituary, Last Australian Interview, Melbourne - April 2008

:: Update ::

Famed choreographer Merce Cunningham, one of the masters of modern dance, has died.

Merce Cunnningham's Final Australian Interview, Melbourne April 2008 - Meanjin (Vols 66.4 / 67.1)

:: Melbourne Residency ::

DREADNOUGHT interviewed Cunningham in late 2007, for an April 2008 cover story on his October 2007 residency in Melbourne. The article ran in a special double issue of Meanjin (2007-08, Vols 66.4 / 67.1). In the interview, Cunningham commented on his career, his changing audiences, his "aleatory" choreographic method, his fascination with animal movement, his collaborations with John Cage, Robert Rauschenberg, Sigur Ros, and Radiohead - and his life in dance. Controversially, I also attempted to get him to speak about beauty and truth, and his responses were revealing. We discussed MySpace, YouTube, and the "possibilities for technology" that, Cunningham believed, would drive the evolution of dance / movement. The issue is available for purchase online.

:: The Upshot ::

Cunningham was, by the time of the residency, mostly confined to a wheelchair. He is seated in a wheelchair in the famous, jarring cover shot by William Yang. I will not soon forget that sight, and Cunningham's laughter when I asked him to describe Martha Graham's scent. Requiescat in pace.

:: Resources ::

- Merce Cunningham's Living Legacy Plan;

- Online Image Gallery of Cunningham's Work; and

- Merce Cunningham Dance Company Archives.

DREADPUBLISHING: 'Being Heard' John Heard - The Faith Of Our Fathers Is Tradition, Scripture & Magisterium

:: Update ::

DREADNOUGHT's latest column for syndication is on the concept of living tradition in the context of Christianity. It was published in The Record newspaper this week.

:: BEING HEARD – The Faith of Our Fathers ::

By John Heard

There is little of any value in change for the sake of change, and much that can be oppressive. That is the summary, the crude summary, of a noble tradition in Western (and, often, specifically English-speaking) thought. That tradition, depending on the prism through which it is viewed, is variously termed orthodoxy, conservatism, common sense, and / or simply “culture”, and it aligns with notions such as the rule of law, precedent, natural justice and constitutionalism in legal thinking, and prudence, temperance, and diligence in the language of virtue ethics. There are probably other terms and ideas that fit here, including some of the better sorts of urges typically grouped under the banner of progressive politics, but it will not help to list them all. It is enough to gesture towards some of the most impressive titles, to discern underneath something of real value for our civilization.

In Catholic circles, tradition is superlative, but there is less of a stress on politics, and more of a sense of obedience and an acknowledgment of love. The deposit of faith, the core of Christian religion, cannot change. A good Christian serves the faith, he does not seek to undermine, or subvert it – certainly not in the pursuit of his extra-curricular interests and ambitions. The faith endures, from age to age, and it does so because of the love of G-d. That the faith professed, defined, and defended by the Church will be the one true faith is, after all, the unique and outstanding guarantee of the Holy Spirit.

Thus, when a bishop, say, defends some teaching that has fallen into momentary disrepute, he stands with the entire Church – understood as both the timeless communion of saints and the intimately historical people of G-d - including at any given time, those people who form the bishop’s flock.

Similarly, when we pray as Catholics, we utter the words that countless Christians have used over more than two millennia. Further, during the holy sacrifice of the Mass, certain words and prayers – Amen, Alleluia, Hosanna alongside the prayers over the bread and wine, for instance – come to us from the Jews. These are ancient in a way that stretches human understanding. It is not wrong to state that, as long as there have been things such as history and religion and language and law, men have used such as these to praise and implore the one true G-d.

So what happens to creativity? Isn’t this way of thinking about faith necessarily restrictive? Certainly, one of the most powerful critiques of this tradition of tradition is that it can quickly lead to stagnation, on the one hand, stifling creativity and stamping out any nascent growth. On the other hand, critics claim, a community wedded to tradition risks glorifying nonsense, simply because it is old. Some of the criticism leveled at the usus antiquior of the Roman Rite comes packaged in this language.

It helps to recall, then, that tradition is – in the Catholic context – only one of the pillars upon which the faith endures. The other two are revelation, which is made up of G-d’s holy Word and His deeds in human history, and the magisterium - helpfully understood as the teaching authority of the bishops (with the pope).

These ensure that while the faith cannot change, human understanding of things that are, in fact, ineffable and mysterious, can develop.

In terms of revelation, the process is most obvious. One must pay homage to the teachings of the past, but not simply because they are ancient, rather because they are known to be of G-d. Christians strive to understand what it is that G-d is saying to man, and that understanding can develop. From the earliest days of the Church, for instance, Christians have come together to understand better Christ’s nature (true G-d and true man), the privileges and prizes of the Blessed Virgin Mary (the theotokos, the Mother of G-d), and to regulate and improve ritual worship (the reforms of Trent and the Second Vatican Council are representative of this process).

The teaching authority of the bishops, always with the pope, is obvious to Christianity in a different way. If the Church is of G-d, as Catholics have been promised and profess her to be, her true ministers must do G-d’s work. Even when they are personally compromised, their priestly acts are valid, and nourishing.

:: The Upshot ::

These ideas of the faith, understood under the terms Tradition, Revelation, and Magisterium are, then, organic, unified - and they are coherent. Each of the concepts works happily alongside the others. Combined, they express something unique, and enduring about Catholicism.

John Heard is an Australian writer. You can read more of his writing on sex, religion, and politics online, and on Facebook join the DREADNOUGHTERS Group.

DREADPUBLISHING: 'Being Heard' John Heard - A Miracle Of The Mass

:: Update :: 

DREADNOUGHT's latest column for syndication is on an extraordinary experience of an otherwise "ordinary" Sunday. It was published in The Record newspaper last week. 

:: BEING HEARD - 'A Miracle of the Mass' ::

By John Heard

We cannot help attaching an outsize weight to coincidence and synchronicity. These are the clever names that we give, of course, to quite simple events that seem to hold much greater meaning. In the course of an otherwise ordinary day, something will happen, and it will seem to overflow the normal limits of meaning. The bare facts might never suggest some great wonder, and when retold, they seem to lose their spark, they are hard to communicate – but for a moment, a wondrous moment, some very magnificent thing rises before us.

Try this one. A young man, not yet thirty, attends the holy sacrifice of the Mass. It is close to the Feast of the Sacred Heart, and he has a particular devotion to the Sacred Heart, but otherwise there is nothing outwardly startling about the event.

The choir sings to the usual standard. The priest offers the Mass, and the faithful worship. As much as any of these things can be described as ordinary, this Sunday is ordinary. It would not qualify for inclusion in a Catholic’s list of the “most memorable Sundays”.  

Except, of course, that this Mass is different for the young man. For, you see, in the midst of all the wonder and meaning, all the miraculous liturgical “wow” otherwise associated with a faithfully and beautifully offered Mass, there seems to be something in a minor key, a barely perceptible, but nagging melody – and it seems to sing just for him.

At first he simply spies a note in the bulletin indicating that the organist will play J.S. Bach’s Fugue in C (BWV 564) for the Recessional. Oh, the young man thinks. Very good. He has been listening to Bach’s The Art of Fugue all week. The coincidence, as most are wont to be, is most surprising. He smiles.

He sits still. He follows prayerfully as the Mass unfolds. The first reading is from the Book of Job. Strange, again, he thinks. He told a friend just last night that he likes the name Job, and he was set to thinking then about the man G-d tested so severely. Now he hears some of Job’s story. The reading – as it is declaimed – is undeniably wondrous. G-d sets the boundaries of the sea, and works other miracles. It feels as though the reading answers the minor melody, and the whole thing is gaining force.

What can it mean?

The readings, summarized on the bulletin, run like this:

I. Here I have set the boundaries of the sea (Job 38:1-11)

II. Give thanks to the Lord, His love is everlasting (Psalm 106:23-26. 28-31)

III. All things are made new (2 Corinthians 5:14-17) 

IV. Who can this be? Even the wind and the sea obey Him (Mark 4:35-41)

As each is proclaimed, and culminating in the Gospel, the young man is transfixed. There is a private meaning here, and a sense of purpose, that he feels he cannot ignore. Even the entrance hymn, and the motets are apposite. They seem to modify the metaphorical melody, and take it to new places. He feels enormous gratitude. Meaning washes over him. It is as if the whole cathedral is ringing for him, well – not for Him, the sacrifice is Christ’s, the sacrifice is Christ – but the young man feels the weight of that love coming down on him, specifically on him. 

He looks around to see if anyone else is enraptured. He breathes. He can’t tell. He wonders if others can see anything unusual on his face. He is smiling gently, but there is no call for arm-flapping, and it would be wrong to shout. Still, he feels he must radiate. Now, the Mass is drawing to its end.

How can a man parse that sort of experience? Psychologists, and those philosophers who believe there is nothing more to the world than matter (and perhaps time / space) would turn to narrow readings. It was neuronal activity, something sparked in the man’s hard wiring, and it produced an effect like déjà vu.

I don’t know about that, and I don’t know what to think of the experience. It was mine, of course, I am the young man. On so-called personal revelation, the Church teaches that nothing that separates us from G-d can come from Him, but otherwise leaves it to the individual to “discern the spirits” (with the aide of a spiritual advisor), if prudent. I would not say that I had been blessed with any serious revelation, just the particular, and welcome sense that I am loved, and that the holy sacrifice of the Mass reaches out for me, that I am included among “the many”.

:: The Upshot ::

A Catholic must not get carried away. We are not superstitious. Still, the feeling is fresh on me, and the melody rings – in a key I now know by heart. “Do not forgot His mercies”, it trills, “poured out in love for one so unworthy”.

John Heard is an Australian writer. You can read more of his writings on sex, religion, and politics online, and on Facebook join the DREADNOUGHTERS Group.