In Tune

I only read magazines in the tub; I love books too much to ruin their edges.

Four years ago while comfortable in my own life and reasonably comfortable in my tub I read a think piece about the life of George Frideric Handel and the oppressive circumstances prefacing his composition of Messiah, which includes the world-famous "Hallelujah Chorus". My takeaway from the article was NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER QUIT, ALWAYS TRY AGAIN. If the chips of life have fallen and left you penniless, in poor health, past your prime, or unable to please a critic then you, like Handel, are at the most important spot life could place you: you are one try away from hitting the jackpot.

I thought about Handel years later when our first IVF failed. I distinctly remember thinking, "Perhaps the NEXT try will be my magnum opus. Maybe baby is still one try away." Not quitting is commendable and having the guts to keep trying is equally bold but I now believe I was missing the Handel boat entirely. The bells of Notre Dame woke me up.

Last year I flew to Paris on Easter Sunday which coincided with newly minted bells inaugurating Notre Dame's 850th anniversary. France's iconic landmark holds ten bells, nine of which are new. One is not. It is called Emmanuel and it is the masterpiece of the group.

Emmanuel is the 13-ton bronze beauty cast in the 15th century and recast in 1681 by request of King Louis XIV, who also named him. EMMANUEL is Hebrew for God is with us. Emmanuel is the only original bell to survive the French Revolution; the rest were melted down to make cannons and coins.

Notre Dame has always looked the part but never sounded the part. Notre Dame caught a lot of flack over the years for having "the most discordant bells in Europe." Bell experts (why did I not know this was an occupation?) joked that Our Lady's ear-shattering clangs caused Quasimodo to go deaf. Since the bells were owned by the government and not the church it took over 100 years to make new bells happen. You know, red tape and whatnot. Even for bells. Ring-diculous!

Paul Bergamo, the bellmaker who cast eight of the new bells at his foundry in Normandy, said the old bells were acceptable for a medium-sized church lost in the countryside but no match for the first church of France, arguably the most famous cathedral in Europe. After all, he was creating replacements for bells that announced the crowning of Napoleon, signaled the end of two world wars, and proclaimed a day of prayer on September 12, 2001.

Crucially, the new bells were forged to be in tune with Emmanuel, whose F-sharp set the musical foundation. Nine new bells created from scratch to pair with Emmanuel remedied centuries of cacophony. Notre Dame pealed majestically when I was there. She sounded royal to me.

Ringing in unison is a human project, too.

Handel had an insatiable craving to be successful. His bell was tuned to fame, fortune, and acceptance but all it got him was rejection, depression, and creative paralysis. His bell clanged FAILURE every time it was struck. Three months after closing up musical shop and giving what he believed was his final performance this happened:

Late one August afternoon Handel returned from a long and tiring walk to find that a poet and previous collaborator, Charles Jennens, had left him a manuscript. This libretto quoted liberally from the scriptures, particularly the words of Isaiah, foretelling the birth of Jesus Christ and describing His ministry, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. The work was to be an oratorio. Given his previous failures, Handel was apprehensive as he began to read through the text.

“Comfort Ye,” the first words of the manuscript, seemed to leap from the page. They dissipated dark clouds that had been pressing upon Handel for so long. His depression waned and his emotions warmed from interest to excitement as he continued to read of angelic proclamations of the Savior’s birth and of Isaiah’s prophecies of the Messiah, who would come to earth to be born as other mortal infants.

A familiar melody Handel had composed earlier flooded into his mind...the notes distilled upon his mind faster than he could put pencil to paper. Upon completing his composition Handel humbly acknowledged, “God has visited me.”

The humbling loss of public approval, money, health and happiness had melted his old bell. From Square One at Rock Bottom he tried something new; he partnered with God and recast himself a new bell. In a miraculous three weeks' time he wrote the bulk of Messiah, the time-tested tour de force which has declared the Savior's reality to millions upon millions.

Maybe the real message of Handel's life isn't about trying again...because a hard-working, out of tune bell can ring all it wants yet forever remain out of tune. Handel tried so hard he gave himself a stroke. Trying won't always change the result. Maybe the secret is to try again as a NEW BELL; one built with a purpose, one aiming to chime with God.

God is with us, his toll constant and unchanging, yet He will never force us to change. He did not intend for us to be a two-bit bell ding-donging forgettably in the middle of nothingness; we were created to ring in Notre Dame! Yet we may ring as we please.

I am nothing without Christ. I am not creative, witty, resourceful or inspired on my own. Me, Myself, and I are myopic and uncertain. Flying solo has never taken me anywhere worth visiting. Alone I am the unimpressive sum of my parts. Lately I have been stuck as a mother. I keep hitting the same potholes and brick walls. I think it is because I have been trying to do it on my own. I forget to rely on the source that will magnify and enhance all my efforts. I need His help if I am to do anything of consequence.

The prise de conscience (just a fancy French way of saying realization) that living as God's instrument equals deliverance, not shackles, is available for every spirit to discover. Handel told the sponsors of Messiah, "I have myself been a very sick man and am now cured. I was a prisoner and have been set free."

Handel was buried in Westminster Abbey where bells have been ringing and singing since the year 1230. Coincidentally, a neighbor gifted me an ornament today obtained on a recent trip to Westminster. The ornament has sheet music all over it and says "Joy to the World" in calligraphy. Hello, Handel wrote the tune to "Joy to the World." Even more coincidentally, this is the ornament another neighbor tied to my Christmas present later today:

 

Photo of Notre Dame's north and south bell towers one week after the new bells were installed. Photo quote from The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. Indented section is the original magazine article by Spencer Condie quoted; read Handel's amazing life story here.