I have always felt about nighttime what Sophie-Carmen Eckhardt-Gramatte makes me feel in her nocturne ... there is nothing to be afraid of in the dark...
... and if there is a moon at midnight, I probably am going to throw open the shade and also put on the singing of one of more of my favorite basses ... obviously at some point today I will put in my absolute favorite, Kurt Moll, but I was recently reminded of Hans Hotter, and this from Brahms about a man who cuts dew-kissed roses at night for his beloved and finds her moved to tears as they kiss ... the power, and perhaps the cost, of love...
Deep matters, but nothing actually frightening in the night there ... of course, dew-kissed roses during the day are pretty nice, too...
Or even Alban Berg's "Nacht," describing a world drawn in the light of the moon, and the odor of woods and the command: "Gib Acht!" ... give attention! Rare have been my actual night excursions in recent years, but in years past I often chose to walk home half of my night commute, and I remember the feelings this song describes... especially when sung by the incomparable Jessye Norman...
Night holds no terrors for me ... mine are drawn in broad daylight ... the slow decline of beloved elders ... the ability to see farther than most into the future because of deep study of the past, and the reality that the vast majority who have not done that study can't see and do not believe even when they hear ... until the predictable future overtakes them.
When the future overtakes those who refuse to prepare for it, there is a sequence of events whose details vary a little by human nature in individuals. Denial, panic late help-seeking, blame-shifting, excuse-making -- the latter two are steps to suppress the truth of the matter, and further steps can involve the kinds of things put under the rubric of "shooting the messenger," ESPECIALLY if the messenger can go no further in his or her duties when the late help-seeking phase begins. Just because people need help after not listening in advance doesn't mean help can be available later on. Sometimes, up front is all we ever get, but people's refusal to accept that truth can cause them to lash out at those who spoke the truth.
When I was a child, folks being killed simply because they were perceived as having more opportunity than others in my locale was not uncommon -- the reason commonly given in the cases in which the killers were caught was "He [or she] was going to leave us!" The idea here also holds true for women leaving abusive relationships -- the other party does not want to accept the target's ability to move on to a better situation while they feel they cannot.
So long as everyone is struggling together, no one has to question the wisdom of what they are doing or feel like they are less important and have less chance at life than someone else -- but the minute one in the crowd sets himself or herself apart in insight and good outcomes, it becomes a volatile, sometimes deadly situation.
Of course, my childhood situations are long gone; my neighborhood was swept of that through gentrification. I also have climbed and climbed and climbed out of all such connections and circles, and am living a quiet and peaceful life shared with no one of my former acquaintance outside my family. It is not always a bad thing to be alone.
Mine is a different terror, presaged some weeks ago when I heard of former beloveds come to grief, further presaged this week when the third of three multi-year insights I shared with those around me closed out as expected. The doors were open in 2023 when I began to speak on them. All three are shut now. It falls to me to make the most of being right and even to build on that to my benefit ... and in terms of the personal heartbreak on an individual basis, I have had the lesson I needed.
You do not have to give up on anyone you have ever loved, Frau Mathews, for as long as there is life, there is still hope ... so then, continue on your way, and be comforted, for you now have grown to know how even at distance, you may still love and have assurance that it is not in vain for you to do so as you are called. You are distant from many now, but not so far that you cannot do love's work for them whenever you think to mention them to the One Who called you, and rely upon Him to undertake while you remain protected and safe.
However, in those two situations, neither individual made a direct appeal to me. I did not have to say to them, "NO -- you missed your opportunity by a decade, and there is nothing I can do for you now." Both of them actually know that.
It's the ones who are going to wake up in 2026 that are going to have a harder time -- a few months is not a long time, so denial is easy to go to. Never mind being three years late by 2026, and that on any and all of those three situations, lack of preparation over three years means nothing can be done. They did not want to hear when something could be done. They are definitely not going to want to hear that nothing can be done now.
Of course, they do not have to hear anything from me. I do not have to be available. I can steel myself to this; it is not like there are not dozens and hundreds and thousands of people who have not heard a word from me in a year of more. The horror for me is that I know in most cases, I must. There is no safe way to get into the way of people's consequences in cases like this.
Nonetheless, I feel sick in the pit of my stomach about it ... and I gotta get over it.
And of course, about here through the portal of imagination, there came a heavy sigh.
"And I had a whole celebration planned, Frau Mathews ... we walked together the summer of 2023, in which you received the insight about exactly how long the crypto bull run would last and put it out, and you were right. You made it possible for everyone who listened to do better than they ever could on their own and get out on time, and now you can build on that into the future of your work ... but here you are feeling ill again because you still want to do more, but you know you can't."
The Ghost of Musical Greatness Past appeared, older in aspect than he had been managing for most of the year. He was in height of mid-60ish paternal solicitude as he wrapped his long arms and voice around me.
"He Who sits on the throne in light to which no man may approach also once walked the earth, and wept upon the day He gave Jerusalem up. I echo His loving understanding of how you feel, Frau Mathews. When people find ways to reject wisdom, we know the price must be paid, and we know it is heavy. The question becomes how do you best carry the burden of that knowledge, since you did not touch the burden of the folly others have chosen."
"I wish I knew," I said.
He considered this for a long moment, and then smiled.
"Among the three best things a mortal may do is live and walk and rest in hope," he said, "and you know the word for hope in German."
"Hoffnung," I said, and smiled. "Is it time for me to visit Gurnemanz Kantor and his family and friends in the little town of Hoffnung again?"
"I think so," he said, and his smile widened. "I think, a little removed from your actual circumstances, you will gain extra insight. Are you ready?"
"Yes," I said.
"Since it already is night for you, and for some hours you have no responsibility to uphold, go to bed, and I will meet you in your dreams, Frau Mathews. Of course, I will sing you an appropriate lullaby ... for time travel it can only be Löwe's 'Die Uhr!'"
Ah, what a choice .. a humble man considers the days of his life, and how he will someday give the clock of his heartbeat back to the One Who made it, with the report: "It stopped on its own" -- he lived out the full days of his life, in humble faith, without complaint. A lovely way to close one's eyes to this world, indeed, even if just for a little while.
I opened my eyes in my little cottage in Hoffnung, the church bells ringing merrily -- I was already dressed to go out, so out I went into a December that shocked me for cold ... I mean, where I live, the autumn rebloom just won't quit ...
... but December in Germany is winter for real! Still, I was dressed warmly -- wool all over and layers of it, with stout boots, so once I got over the initial shock, it was fine -- and then also, I got picked up at once!
"Guten Morgen, meine Töchterlein -- into the carriage with you!"
That, of course, was the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past in his role as the robustly mid-40ish rector of Hoffnung, Gurnemanz Kantor, and in the carriage was his ever-merry Frau Ursula Kantor. I was relieved to see both of them looking so healthy, given that on my last visit, one had been held by the evil Edward von Schadenfreude and survived both a severe beating and a bout of pneumonia, and the other had been struggling in her late pregnancy because of concern for him.
However, it did not take long before I realized all that had come out just fine ... for there with Frau Kantor were snoozing not one, not two, but three adorable Kantor yearlings! No wonder she had been struggling -- she had been carrying triplets!
I was very careful getting up into the carriage, leaving the little Kantors snoozing, because ...
"You always know this is quite a choir to have singing out of tune -- they all have their father's power of voice!" Frau Kantor said with a chuckle.
"Dein Englisch ist immer besser," I said, and she chuckled again.
"Your German is always better, too!" she says. "Because of you and Gurnemanz, our household is now very good in English -- Ulrike, Ulrich, and Ursula here understand both, and they are just 18 months old!"
She had many stories to tell me, and so I caught up on how the Kantors and Hoffnung were doing. It was village life in late 1825, before a united Germany or anything like a 24-hour news cycle -- the harvest could have been a bit more robust, the winter seemed that it was going to be exceptionally snowy if not as bitterly cold as others, and many people were in great need ... but Frau Kantor was forever gladly organizing to meet all needs, and her conversation was oriented around how the Lord was blessing the people of Hoffnung all together.
"It is Advent season so of course we are all trying to do more for each other, but as Gurnemanz and I are always saying, it is all sweeter when we do all year what the Savior would have us do: love our neighbors, and do good to all. He has come to this earth, and gone, and will come again: in the meantime, we are to occupy as He would, and bless all around."
Herr Kantor's sermon was much as would be expected at Advent time: he had Mary's Magnificat from Luke as his text, and from his joy I knew he was thinking of breaking out in song because of course he knew Bach's setting of that ...
... but, that being too complicated, he led good, solid Lutheran hymns. The baby Kantors did their best as well, at the top of their lungs -- they, too, loved to sing even though they didn't quite know how!
Ulrike, Ulrich, and Ursula Kantor apparently knew me well ... they had been happily going and grinning and giggling between my lap and their mother's lap for the entire service. There were many other children there, and they also knew me -- it seemed that every one of them wanted a hug, and greeted me in both German and English! Also I noticed that the single women my own age -- 23 again, ha! -- were less cold and standoffish on this trip. I was still definitely an Auslander, a foreigner, and Black too, but I overheard the reason in a lament of Frau Kantor to one of her friends...
"We would have added an adopted son-in-love by this time, but our beloved Jerome has been snatched up into Prince Solomo's service and arrangements made to secure him through a lower nobleman's younger daughter as a match -- and of course he cannot say no to the prince. He has done a little too well for his and Diane's happiness with his engineering skills. I don't know how she can stay so cheerful!"
This friend -- Frau Weisheit -- had a notable response.
"Jerome Heinz is a fine young man, but with the laws as they are, Fräulein Matthaus, once a slave in the United States, might be cheerful to be free. Not every man is as Herr Weisheit, or as Herr Kantor -- it is no burden to us to be completely in their thrall, but we do not even know what slavery is. Fräulein Matthaus took that potential of a match much as Jerome did: not to be refused because of position in life. Now he is in the same position, and does not much like it ... but he will come out well, and so will she. You and Herr Kantor are already seeing to that."
Frau Kantor had sighed.
"I keep forgetting every situation is not nor can be as wonderful as we have been blessed with ... but I liked to think that Jerome and Diane could get there."
"They could have," Frau Weisheit said, "had it been God's plan."
At that point, Ulrike Kantor had loudly interrupted and became the subject of conversation as she pulled up on a church bench and found that she could stand! The Kantor babies were running a little late in walking, but there was good reason for it: they were immense, already as large as some of the three-year-olds, so they had a lot to coordinate with their 18-month-old brains. But, they were coming along, and enjoying the process! Ulrich and Ursula crawled over and pulled up to give their sister a hug ... and then all of them fell over again, laughing!
"All the entertainment we shall ever need," Frau Weisheit said.
"Agreed!" Frau Kantor said with a laugh.
Indeed, not much else was going on in Hoffnung ... just another day in the village ...
But, the postman was coming Monday, and any time Schubert sends you the postman from Winterreise, you already know there is going to be foolishness that is going to take somebody's life...
I was picking lemons in my yard to take over to Frau Kantor so we could put them in for the day's distribution for the people when I heard the post horn, but Herr and Frau Kantor had not heard it, too busy starting the day with their three babies and turning crying into singing and laughing. I joined in happily with that, and all five Kantors made no secret of their gratitude and love for me.
So, the day passed pleasantly through Mittagessen, the middle meal that Herr Kantor came home to have with his family -- but in time for Kaffee und Kuchen, around 3-4pm, Frau Kantor looked through a window and was surprised.
"It is a good thing we made extra cakes and light breads today," she said. "That is the village mayor there with my husband."
The two men were in deep, grave conversation as they slowly approached the Kantor home -- but then the mayor was met by an aide, and he had to leave. That left the rector to enter his home alone, his voice as deep and grave as his thoughts.
"Our neighbors in the village of Eitelkeitsmesse are about to face great trouble," he said, "and we can only hope that we may share in the trouble with them."
Frau Kantor and I looked at each other.
"I don't understand, mein Geliebte," she said.
"Our mayor with the other regional village leaders are going up to see the Eitel Dam and what is happening there, and Prince Solomo is coming as well. But, in short, the unseasonably warm weather in the middle of last month caused a sizable avalanche, and that helped to break up all of the river ice as well. All that ice is now against the dam, and there is no way for it to melt now that temperatures are back to normal. So: it may not be today or tomorrow, but the Eitel Dam is going to break. Eitelkeitsmesse is only two miles down the valley -- right in the path, but around a slight bend, so they will never see it coming."
Frau Kantor and I looked at each other again, and back at Herr Kantor in horror.
"We must make ready!" Frau Kantor said. "All of those people will have to relocate and many will come here -- they will be in need of everything!"
"No, they don't have to come here at all," Herr Kantor said grimly. "We hope we share in their trouble, but we don't have to."
This was now the second time he had made that clear.
"So far, their mayor is of the mind that the Eitel Dam has stood for 300 years and is a proud legacy of the handiwork of the town's people as much as anyone else, and that the ice will melt in the spring. The people agree. They just set up their Christmas markets today like they did not hear the news. So: in a busy day, and certainly at night, they could be gone before most can even make out what is happening the approach sound would be."
The Kantor babies were asleep at this moment, so all there was to hear, as we could think of nothing else to even say for several minutes, was the roar-crackle of the household fire and the late autumn wind keening in the street.
"What can we do -- they need a miracle!" Frau Kantor said after a long time.
"A miracle," Herr Kantor said grimly, "but none such will be given them that will allow them to go on as they have been these years. This is not the first warning. It is the last. The end is coming; the only question is how many will have their hearts moved to heed the warning and have a new beginning -- and that, meine Liebe, indeed will require a miracle."
"But what can we do?" I said.
Herr Kantor held my gaze a long moment and said, "We need a miracle, my daughter, and we know where to ask for one."
He knelt down in prayer, and Frau Kantor and I joined him. I noticed that he prayed only that the hearts and eyes of the people be opened, and when Frau Kantor also said nothing about the ice I was stunned until I realized: even in the 21st century, assuming dynamite and modern engineering, there was still not much that could be done for a 300-year-old earthenware dam that much over capacity, with all that water pressure frozen as a solid block. Certainly in 1825, this would be unthinkable. Of course God could remove it all ... but as I listened to the Kantors praying, I realized there was much more going on.
The rector chose to fast for the rest of the day, and we followed his lead and did the things needed for the home to settle it down for the night. A storm blew up, so I remained there for the night, and I remember a moment in which the Kantors and I each had a little Kantor gurgling contentedly on our lap, and Frau Kantor looked at her husband and said, "Do you think they love their children enough to change their minds?"
He was silent for a long time as little Ursula started treating his arm and shoulder like it was a big tree to climb.
"I think you make a connection between two things, meine Geliebte, that many do not, for most see what they already believe as best for their children as well. So many proud traditions and so much sense of place -- what could be a finer legacy? Where else can equal that? Who wants to be a foreigner in a foreign land -- in der Fremde?
I thought of this as the immigrant in the room ... in the back story of my character was that Herr Kantor, in his days touring the United States as a singer, had met me as a escaped slave famous for my singing and had chosen to assist me in evading my former enslaver's renewed pursuit. England and Germany were a bit too far for my pursuer to go, and certainly farther than I intended ... but because I trusted the one who called me to a new life and believed he would be faithful, I had thrived. Herr Kantor had faithfully echoed a Greater Savior!
So, I understood the change of mindset needed in
Eitelkeitsmesse. The difference was, I knew that if I were taken back into enslavement, I was a goner. The people of Eitelkeitsmesse did not understand the danger they were in. They were going to lose their lives one way or another. Only accepting the truth held the possibility of life after that.
Herr Kantor had given no hint in his prayers to add to his ominous declaration that 'This is not the first warning. It is the last' about the character of Eitelkeitsmesse and its people. The mystery would not be solved that night, but before I went to bed, he said to me, "A lesson in German, and also in English literature: I suppose you did not know it was a town in Germany that one of England's most famous authors was inspired by!"
He was smiling a little ... this was a grim joke, but very grim.
"You know that 'keit' in German functions to make a descriptive noun into an adjective, almost in the same manner of adding like with a dash in front to the end of another word does this. Homely would become homely-like; Heimlich becomes Heimlichkeit in a similar way. So then, eitel means vain, and although you know that messe means mass and instantly you think of music, think of the other reasons that a mass of people might come together outside of church ... a festival ... a market ... "
I thought about this, and then went and sat down realizing where he was going. Eitelkeit would come out to the state of being vain, or vanity, and therefore Eitelkeitsmesse would translate into English as Vanity Fair, that infamous town in John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress that literally killed a pilgrim for not going along with their collection of worldly distractions and pursuits. Many German villages are centuries older than any English novel ... hence the joke ... John Bunyan must have heard about Eitelkeitsmesse and brought it into English.
But what did that have to say about Eitelkeitsmesse and its people?
"Ach, wir haben ein Problem," I said.
"Nein," he said gently but firmly, "wir haben kein Problem. Wir leben in Hoffnung, nicht in Eitelkeitsmesse."
No, we have no problem. We live in Hope, not Vanity Fair.
Sure enough: the pilgrim who came out of Vanity Fair in Pilgrim's Progress was named Hopeful.
"It is frankly uncomfortable how much John Bunyan knew about this region of Germany," I said.
"I know!" Herr Kantor said to me, a twinkle in his eyes for a moment.
"But reality, while being more patient than fiction, is often not as kind. Vanity Fair still stands, unrepentant, at the end of Bunyan's book, for the point of that book is to show the pilgrims progressing to the only city that matters: the Celestial City. So long as they stayed on the path, they had no problems. That is a good way of looking at situations like this."
"But that can't be all we look at in reality," I said. "Even the prophet Jonah was rebuked for not having regard for the 120,000 children in Nineveh who could not yet tell their right hands from their left, and even the cattle who would suffer the wrath of God. Eitelkeitsmesse is not so great a city as Nineveh, but there are babes like your very own there!"
"I know," he said. "My heart aches at the thought of it. I have been in silent prayer and mentioned the innocents of Eitelkeitsmesse many times this evening."
"So have I," I said. "I shall go to my rest in that prayer."
"Well shall you do that ... for literally, meine liebe Töchterlein, we rest in hope."
To rest and rise and live in hope ... the next morning dawned clear and cold, and Herr Kantor was out among the people with his wife, with their usual joy and cheer ... after all, we lived in Hoffnung, and this was not the people of Hoffnung's problem and might never be. Finding all joy where you may while working through heartbreak about the things where you may not -- I watched and learned, and at the time of taking the middle meal with the Kantors, made an observation I thought was apt.
"The rector of Eitelkeitsmesse must have his hands full right now, ministering to his people; he needs prayer too."
Herr Kantor choked, and Frau Kantor, herself a giant of a woman, struck him a blow in the middle of his back that must have reminded him of Edward von Schadenfreude's beating -- but the piece of bread came right out ... and to my surprise, Herr Kantor had scarcely caught his breath before he laughed uproariously, so he was laughing and coughing alternatively.
The Kantor babies all looked up, not knowing what to do...
"Oh, you can laugh too!" Frau Kantor said, and they did while she addressed me to explain.
"So while the present rector of Hoffnung recovers himself," she said, "my father was the previous rector, and I am his youngest daughter. I remember we went to a service in Eitelkeit -- a high Lutheran mass, and I think it was Bach's B minor -- and the present rector of Eitelkeitsmesse was the rector then. My father and I overheard him receiving a compliment about the choir being very good, and he said -- I shall never forget it -- 'Well, of course -- the people have itching ears and it is my job to scratch them!'"
It was a good thing I had nothing in my mouth, because having Frau Kantor hit me in the middle of my back was not what I wanted, but she got a good view of my teeth and throat through my open mouth.
"You are so innocent, Fräulein Matthaus!" Herr Kantor said as he and his babies rolled laughing again. "Forever surprised!"
"My father packed us all into the carriage and we came back to Hoffnung," Frau Kantor said, "and he was going on and on and on while driving, just yelling to the Lord about that clown heretic entertainer and how that was all Eitelkeitsmesse needed to go to its destruction, thinking itself rich but really being poor, blind, and naked and about to have the Eitel River do the work of spitting it out of the Lord's mouth!"
"They know, but they figure if it hasn't happened yet, it won't in their lifetimes -- about 300 years of that!" Herr Kantor said as he came back into his gravity. "The Eitel Dam is a marvel of engineering, and it allowed the region to support eight mills in 1525! Eight -- and two were hammer mills, as if having six grist mills for the region's grain was not enough! Some of Germany's finest metal workers made tools and weapons there over the centuries -- and two minor lords lived like princes themselves as hammer lords -- two!
"So: with all that, Eitelkeitsmesse became very, very rich -- still a little village because of the terrain, but the people are as rich as they are proud, and all they need of a minister is to scratch their itching ears and tell them how much God apparently loves them and would never let anything happen to them, even though it is an open secret that the dam's designer said that he could do what his lord commanded and build it just so, but if there were a warm winter and an avalanche, no dam in that position could survive!"
"And Herr Zischen -- I will not call that man Prediger, out of respect to the Lord and His faithful preachers my father and my husband -- is old, fat, and rich, scratching those itching ears and lulling them into a comfortable sleep!" Frau Kantor spat. "He has been there thirty years!"
"While we are filling Fräulein Matthaus's ears with wunderlicher things," Herr Kantor said, "let me see if I can get your beautiful teeth and throat on display, Ursula. Prince David, late father to our present Prince Solomo, spent many men and much material defending that entire portion of the principality, but not just for the reasons people think. The river of course is valuable, and there is still much iron ore in the region, but it is what no longer is there that is at issue.
"The hammermills have been closed for half a century because they required so much nearby wood, and indeed, all of the forests around were leveraged down to the stumps being pulled out of the ground and made into charcoal. But this decision led to the hills on all sides of the Eitel Dam being nothing but steep, smooth slopes by now, upon which rain falls and snow accumulates with nothing to hold the ground together. This means that the chances of already-saturated ground getting a very heavy accumulation of snow and giving way was many times more likely in this century than in 1525. Prince David knew that if his enemies got close enough to find that out, they would easily take out the dam and the valley -- but time itself is the greatest enemy!"
My mouth fell open again, but Frau Kantor gave a tight-lipped smile.
"That makes sense," she said.
"That's not the shocking part," Herr Kantor said. "Prince David had the area surveyed in one of the last winters of the war years -- I think it was 1819 -- and realized what had to be done: the whole region downstream of the Eitel Dam needed to be evacuated. However, the wars were still going on; he could not manage it in 1820 or 1821. Peace at last came in June of 1822 ... and I say June because this is important. We know when peace came, so why would the rector of Eitelkeitsmesse, after that, publicly be calling the village to prayer to the Lord to deliver it from its enemy -- its singular enemy?"
Frau Kantor's mouth fell open. All three Kantor babies looked at her and also dropped their jaws, and that made us all laugh -- a moment of light in deep darkness. We put them to bed before continuing this conversation, with Frau Kantor and I relaxing on the settee while the rector sat in his big armchair.
"Prince David died on November 15, 1822," Herr Kantor said, "and the entire principality went into mourning ... but the church at Eitelkeitsmesse scheduled some strange music for a funeral: Haydn's Te Deum, probably the most joyful yet written!"
"Ach -- nein!" Frau Kantor said, and put her hand over her face.
"Doch, ja," Herr Kantor said, contradicting her in a gently idiomatic way -- to her incredulous "Oh no!" a "but, after all, yes."
"They think God did them a favor!" I said. "That is a great piece of music, but misused!"
"Owing to the spiritual leadership of Herr Zwischen, yes," Herr Kantor said.
"Not all spirits are holy," I said.
"Genau -- precisely," Herr Kantor said.
"Apparently," I said, "there is a depth to this matter of how a community gets into this kind of situation."
"People do tend to run the Lord's patience to find out what the limit is," Frau Kantor said, and then pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed at a tear. "I'm a rector's daughter, so, I've seen it so many times."
Herr Kantor got out of his big chair and squeezed onto the settee with Frau Kantor and me just so he could take her into his arms -- and the settee groaned and shook from our combined weight, so I got up and they followed me swiftly!
"I suppose that is the Lord letting us know: take good heed to yourself in your own folly!" he said with a laugh as we just shared a hug instead. "So, we go on and walk and live and rest in hope, praying that those in need of mercy avail themselves of it while it yet can be found. The Lord's patience is not exhausted yet!"
To be continued...
