Charles Calomiris: Evlogía

Description

“The nature and character of the world cannot be described properly without reference to something more. That something more has a nature that gives shape to the stories labeled as myths…. Indeed, even stories that would otherwise be labeled “true” and “real” (in the literal sense) have significance precisely in their mythic character…. What modernity labels as ‘fact’ is insufficient for human existence.”
Father Stephen Freeman

“Stories are able to help us to become more whole, to become Named. And Naming is one of the impulses behind all art; to give a name to the cosmos we see despite all the chaos.”
Madeleine L’Engle

“What if, in the bent and twisted darkness of our broken world, beauty is God’s theodicy? What if God can speak in creation and song, story and vision the things words, in their frailty, cannot yet bear? What if God’s hand reaches out to us clothed in beauty, and by grasping and trusting it, we may learn to walk through the darkness in hope?
Sarah Clarkson

To some, the spirit world is mythical nonsense, to others, an invisible possibility, and to still others, a palpable presence. Some claim to visit ancient shadows through the intervention of eccentric personalities, others experience grace through miracles, while still others struggle with spirits that haunt and disturb their lives. Many who are unaware of having any experience of the spirit world imagine it through yearning, prayer or liturgy. Living in the material world, we search for blessings that transform us — from poor, hungry, weeping and reviled to rich, satisfied, laughing and loved, hoping that these Evlogía (Blessings) will manifest God’s presence. In Orthodox Christianity, one aspires ultimately to union with God (Théosis), a union in which, paradoxically, individual identities are maintained and strengthened; individuals become their true selves, and their names are written in the Book of Life. We all seek freedom (Elefthería) from the darkness of this world, and hope to discover the meaning of the two deepest forms of love — Agápi, a passionate commitment to the well-being of another, and Storgí, a love that is unconditional, divine, perfect, never broken, even in the face of constant challenges or rejection. Possessing these, or even aspiring toward them, makes it possible for us to bless others.
As we come to grips with darkness, evil, and hatred, how do we reconcile ourselves to the fact that every thought, every being, every action – even those that we regard as dark or evil or hateful – is connected to God, is a part of the world created by God? And if we are Christians, how do we understand why some people were born to live in a pagan world, without the benefit of the relationship to God we have known? Is God’s presence in creation enough to connect them to God somehow? Does art make that connection possible? Is this what theologians mean when they refer to the “hidden Christ”? Can we find God even in the beauty of the poetry of a Marxist who seems to revel in chthonic “worship” and tells us to embrace a universe in which our own individual identity is erased?
This album is about all God’s blessings – especially the puzzling ones – and about all those questions. It begins with the setting of a poem about the universal aspiration for transcendence, seeking union with all creation (“una integridad generosa”) depicted in Pablo Neruda’s poem, Demasiados nombres.
The second track explores the Greek pagan spirit world, where encounters with immortals can be risky. Adventurers with a guide to direct them might be drawn to converse with the playful and benign water sprites, explored in Conversating Sprites. Interactions with such spirits are fleeting, but the ephemeral quality makes them all the more precious.
In the pagan world, identity and even memory were sometimes believed to be lost after death, as one merges into a nameless whole (similar in some respects to the vision in Demasiados nombres), after one travels the dark waters of the five rivers of Hades (Styx, Lethe, Acheron, Phlegthon, and Cocytus), the waters which inspire Styx and Stones. At that journey’s end, what have we become? Catatonics? Or perhaps, vapid clowns?
Perhaps some spirits have their own reasons to visit us, sometimes with a dark purpose. Sotiría imagines the late rebetiko singer, Sotiria Bellou (a victim of spousal abuse) as an angel of death, avenging a woman murdered by her husband.
Mystics claim to traverse the space between the living and the dead. Some offer to do so for a price, as does one imagined resident of Nafplion, Greece in To Mayicó tou Bourtzi (The Magic of Bourtzi).
King of Heart is about the unique relationship between God and Man introduced by Judaism. This piece draws from various psalms to consider King David’s conception of a personal relationship between God and Man, one based on emotional devotion, and a yearning for forgiveness, which can only be conveyed by the songs he creates.
The last nine pieces present various perspectives on that relationship, beginning with Blessed, in which Jesus offers, in his Sermon on the Plain, rewards in heaven for the virtuous who suffer in this world.
The first of four poems by Orthodox Christian poet, Michael Haldas, is an epic description of the lifelong journey to find the right path (Climbing Ladders).
Two aspects of love are explored in Agápi and Storgí.
Tracks 11-14 confront the dark side of human struggles. Haldas’s poem, Blood, Blood is about his own experience of suicide’s effect on those left behind. His poem, Deliverance, considers the challenge of helping loved ones in need to find God.
Out of Reach explores the yearning for divine beauty but being unable to grasp it.
The Dark Light of the Soul concerns the internal struggle with the darkness within us.
The end of life’s journey is the subject of the final piece, inspired by the hope of freedom (Elefthería) from the struggles of this world.
Together, these 15 pieces celebrate the epic journey of mankind’s yearning to connect with God. They reflect the understanding that God gives our lives purpose, and exemplify the unique role music can play to connect us with spiritual reality.
Three of the instrumental pieces (To Mayicó tou Bourtzi, Blessed, and Agápi) have lyrics (reprinted below), but here I decided to omit them and let only the instruments speak.
I thank all the performers and engineers whose art and encouragement made this album possible, and especially my friend, the great oud player, Ara Dinkjian, who generously contributed his original taksim to the beginning of To Mayicó tou Bourtzi.
Charles Calomiris
Pano Hora, Colorado