St. Patrick's Day

In Irish music, many of the instruments used are diatonic. In other words, they are not chromatic; it's hard to play in more than two major keys and their related minors. For example, on a standard tin whistle or uilleann pipes, the player can only play in the keys G major or D major, as well as the related modes that have only one or two "sharps." The lowest note played by these instruments is usually D, and this standard has become known among Irish musicians as "concert pitch."

In the 1970's it became fashionable among fiddlers to tune their strings a half-pitch up, so that their D string became an E-flat string. Many fiddlers liked the "brighter" sound.

However, since 2000 it has become increasingly popular to play various instruments at lower pitches. The sound is often mellower" than the normal high-pitched instruments, and lends a different tonality to the tunes, especially when played at a bit of a slower pace. Interestingly, many antique instruments were designed to be played at lower pitches, but went out of fashion for a long time. They have now been revived, and while they are often harder to find than "concert pitch" instruments, they are readily available, albeit for a price.

One of the albums that really sparked this trend of playing at a lower pitch was Kitty Lie Over by Mick O'Brien and Caoimhin O Raghallaigh, on flat pipes and fiddle respectively. Here is the well-known duo playing the second track off that album:




And here is a brother-sister duet playing a couple jigs on a baritone concertina and viola:

Getting Serious about St. Patrick's Day

St. Patrick's Day is not far off. Many people will celebrate with green beer and garish plastic hats. But there are better ways to celebrate. One way is with authentic Irish music; the Guild Review has plenty, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. Another great way to celebrate is with a novena (nine days) of the morning prayer that, at least according to tradition, St. Patrick himself wrote.

The prayer is known as St. Patrick's Breastplate or The Deer's Cry. It contains the kind of semi-Franciscan praise of nature that you might expect to find in Celtic Christianity, but it also includes elements more often associated with Roman orthodoxy, like praise of the apostles and condemnation of heretics.  Perhaps most importantly, the penultimate stanza, beginning with "Christ with me," makes very clear that, at its deepest root, St. Patrick's Day is really about Jesus Christ.  It's a fantastic prayer.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.

I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In the obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In the predictions of prophets,
In the preaching of apostles,
In the faith of confessors,
In the innocence of holy virgins,
In the deeds of righteous men.

I arise today, through
The strength of heaven,
The light of the sun,
The radiance of the moon,
The splendor of fire,
The speed of lightning,
The swiftness of wind,
The depth of the sea,
The stability of the earth,
The firmness of rock.

I arise today, through
God's strength to pilot me,
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to save me
From snares of devils,
From temptation of vices,
From everyone who shall wish me ill,
afar and near.

I summon today
All these powers between me and those evils,
Against every cruel and merciless power
that may oppose my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul;
Christ to shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that there may come to me an abundance of reward.

Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.

Today's image comes from the blog of Fr. Dwight Longenecker, from a post titled "The Importance of Patrick in Spiritual Warfare." 

Eliot's Reflection on the Magi's Journey

Today the Church recalls the coming of the Magi to adore the Christ Child. We know little about who they were or the nature of their journey. Their arrival is generally depicted as being an occasion of great joy, and no doubt it was. But great religious experiences, even while being joyful, can also be challenging. Indeed, many of the saints spoke of their deep longing to be with God; in some sense, a taste of His presence was as much a curse as a blessing, creating, as it did, a longing which would only be fully satisfied in heaven. This is one way of reading the Beatitudes: the blessed are troubled in this world precisely because they do not belong to it.

In 1927, T. S. Eliot wrote a poem reflecting on the Magi. (You can hear him read it here.) He considers the difficulty of the journey, suggesting the psychological or spiritual challenges that so often come on the heels of physical ones. He includes the mundane details which so often fill our loftiest endeavors.  He also reflects on the longing and discontent that true religious experience can prompt. This Christmas season, we would do well to imitate the fortitude of the Magi. And, should we persevere in the journey of faith, we should expect to be changed: powerfully, deeply, even troublingly, and - yes - ultimately joyfully.

The Journey Of The Magi

'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
and running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.