One of the last things we did in Paris was one of the things
that will remain for the longest in my memory.
We went to hear an organ concert at the Church of St.
Eustache. (Interesting note: The church was named after a Roman general. He and
his family were burned after converting to Christianity. I’d love to find out
more about that story—can you imagine that happening to a Roman general?!)
The organ at St. Eustache is the largest in France—8,000
pipes. And the church is enormous, not quite the size of Notre Dame, but big
and very tall. I must admit that I’m a little partial to organ music because my
grandfather was an organist, a very good one who played the organ in a huge
stone church in the Netherlands.
In any case, the massive stone church is an important part
of the beauty. Organs were meant to be heard in that context. Everything else
is a shadow as similar as a lamp is to the sun. Imagine it’s dark outside, the
rain is falling, and the church is lit by hundreds of candles. Then the music
begins. In a huge stone church, the sound is captured. It bounces off the
walls, echoing back and forth as more music comes from the pipes. And the
listener is bathed in music—it’s around you and under you and in you. It almost
seems to have no source, it just exists.
When the bass pipes grumble, it's like giant redwoods are humming. And when the pipes in the upper registers sing, it’s
as if butterflies have been given a voice. Somehow in the transcendence that is organ music, the mute speak.
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| Here are some of the 8000 pipes. |
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| Sadly, this is foreshortened, so you don't get a sense of the size. But you can see what the candles were like. |
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| Cal during the concert. I have no idea why the windows look so bright--it was dark outside. |
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| Me after the concert. If you want to find out about Screwing Up Time book swag, click here. |
