Some years ago, after reading a quote from the classical guitarist Christopher Parkening about being drawn to Christianity as a convert because of his experience with Bach's music, I found out that our university library had a boxed set (many boxes) of all of Bach's music. It took a couple of years but I went through that boxed set disk by disk.
I knew of some of Bach's music beforehand; I am a huge fan of his Cello Suites and have many albums of Parkening playing transcriptions for the guitar. I knew going into it that I would not master that huge volume of music; how could I, even if I didn't already have a full life? But I was patient, and disciplined, and after a little more than two years of listening while working in my office I finished.
Discipline is the word that appeals to me here; it was with intent from the beginning a spiritual discipline. I had a little familiarity with some of Bach's liturgical music, enjoying a live performance of his Weinachts Oratorium at Duke Chapel once upon a time; yet I was not seeking a focus on his explicitly functional pieces in service of worship. I wanted to embrace and be surrounded by the aesthetic of it all, for in Parkening's quote I felt a kinship, music having long been a huge part of my worship experience since childhood.
And, well, yeah. It was life-changing. I don't think I can articulate it well. It did not change my direction so much as firm up the path as it were. There are emotions that it stirs in me (as music often does) that are too deep for words, in particular there is a sense of the divine in what I hear.
From what I've read Bach was a working stiff; his employers expected him to churn out music in service of weekly liturgies and special events on a regular basis and from all accounts he did not get much praise at the time for it. My brother-in-law in his own way, as musical director for the Boston Archdiocese, has some overlap in his job description. When I think of Bach the man I often think of my brother-in-law, whose life is full, whose humor is infectious and whose family means everything to him, although he does not yet have as many children as Bach.
But it goes without saying that what we produce in art has a life of its own. My choices are my choices; if you, dear reader, have the chance to touch the sublime in your own way, well, do it.
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