Monday, December 5, 2011

MUSIC AS A THIN PLACE


Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
by
Johann Nepomuk della Croce

Lately, I have been thinking a great deal about "thin places," a concept which has its roots in Celtic spirituality.  According to my understanding, "thin places" are those places where the boundary between the material world and the divine realm becomes so thin, so porous and permeable, that we can experience the total fullness of reality.  A thin place can be a geographical place, of course, but it can also be a poem, a person, a work of art, a piece of music, an experience with nature—any situation that lifts the veil, dissolves our preconceptions, and offers a glimpse, if only fleetingly, of the divine mystery of the non-material world.

While reading What I Believe, by the iconoclastic Swiss theologian Hans Kung, I came across a passage that speaks eloquently, I think, of the thin places created by certain music.  Mozart is the focus of Kung's musical passion, but what he says strikes me as relevant to other types of music, indeed any music that opens one's eyes to the formless reality beyond the intellectual forms (preconceptions, e.g.) that permeate our thinking.  While I can find thin places in certain classical music, I can also find them in other types of music.

So on with the quote.  Here is Hans Kung speaking of his experience with the music of Mozart:
Sometimes when studying or relaxing, I open myself to the music, let it flow into me, and abandon myself completely to it, not only with the intelligence of the head, which is necessary for scholarship, but with the intelligence of the heart which binds, integrates, communicates totality.
It is this experience that draws me back to this music time and again.  If I am listening to Mozarts' music utterly and intensely, without outside disturbances, alone at home or sometimes at a concert, my eyes close and I suddenly feel that the body of sound is no longer outside me but part of my being.  It is the music that now embraces me, permeates me and resounds from within.  What has happened?  I sense that I am wholly turned inwards with eyes and ears, body and spirit: the I is silent and everything external, any subject—object split, ceases to exist.  The music is no longer outside me but is what embraces me, permeates me, brings me happiness from within, fulfills me completely.  The phrase that occurs to me is: 'In it we live and move and have our being.'
This is a saying from the New Testament, from the apostle Paul's speech on the Areopagus in Athens, where he speaks of seeking and finding God, who is not remote from any of us, in whom we live and move and are . . . Truly more than any other music, with its sensual-nonsensual beauty, power and clarity Mozart's music seems to show how fine and narrow the boundary is between music, the most unobjective of all the arts, and religion, which has always especially had to do with music. Both, though different, point to the ultimately unspeakable, to the mystery.  And though music must not become a religion of art, the art of music is the most spiritual of all symbols for that 'mystical sanctuary of our religion,' of which Mozart once spoke, the divine itself.
The conclusion is that Mozart's music is not proof of God but even more not a pointer to pessimism and nihilism.  On the contrary, sensitive listeners will sometimes find themselves opening up, in that reasonable trust which transcends reason.  With this fine hearing they may then perceive a wholly Other in the pure, utterly internalized sound, say, of the adagio of the clarinet concerto; the sound of the beautiful in its infinity, indeed the sound of the infinite that transcends us and for which 'beautiful' is not a word.  So music is a 'tuning in' to a higher harmony. 
Six words literally jump out of this last paragraph for me—"that reasonable trust which transcends reason."  Thin places, including music which dissolves the boundaries of thought, are good places to find that trust.

24 comments:

  1. How I love the idea of a thin place George - I had never heard the expression before - the first that springs to mind for me is the first ten bars of Beethoven's Missa Solemnis - but shall now think of more.
    Nice to read you again - have missed you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. How nice to read a new post from you, George!

    Ah, we're back to the heart and the head here, aren't we? Inevitably, for things always seem to return to this conflict-resolution.

    Perhaps more than in any other classical composer (except JS Bach) 'the intelligence of the head' and 'the intelligence of the heart' connect up most completely and most satisfyingly in Mozart.

    The Camino is a thin place, a very thin place.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thanks, PAT. Yes, I been relatively quiet for a while, but I now hope be be posting more often. Delighted to introduce you to the concept of "thin places." Instinctively, I think, most of us have experienced those rare moments in which everything rational seems to dissolve and we sense that we are part of something more wonderful and more glorious than we usually imagine. Music can do that, and I well understand how Beethoven has created thin places for multitudes of people.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thanks, ROBERT. Yes, we always come full circle to the head/heart conflict. The wonderful thing about thin places is that they keep the head in check, reminding us always that we must learn to see with the heart. How else could we find what we're searching for? Yes, I'm quite sure the Camino is a very thin place. I suspect, however, that you have many others in your various walks.

    ReplyDelete
  5. This "thin place" concept brought the idea of quiddity as in essence to my mind. You've given me food for thought, George. I can always depend on you for that. I hope you can enter thin spaces in December, and I hope I can, too.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Thanks for your kind comments, BARB, I will, indeed, be hoping to find thin places in December, as I do every day. Merry Christmas!

    ReplyDelete
  7. This is a lovely post. So glad to have spotted you over at Friko's World.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Of all the things we make, music comes closest to saying what we know to be unsayable. Having said that, I suppose we say it through music.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Hi, SUSAN, and welcome to Transit Notes. I'm delighted that you dropped by and hope you will continue to join the little conversation we have on this site. I've taken a brief look at your own site, Prufrock's Dilemma," and plan to go back and peruse it more thoroughly. It's clear that we have much in common. I note, for example, that we both have used T.S. Eliot for the inspiration of our blog titles.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Hi, DOMINIC! "Saying what we know to be unsayable" through music. Yes, that is what this is all about. To that, I would only add that music allows us to LISTEN to truths which cannot be contained by words. Merry Christmas to you, my friend.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Absolutely love the idea of thin places/spaces! I'd have to say music (and oh YES the Camino!) can be a very thin place. Many a time in my little church choir I've quite literally lost the ability to sing on because of how deeply the combination of words and music moved me. Which is ok...'cept when it's your turn to do the solo! lol

    And...as so many others here have said...very happy to see you back to blogging!

    ReplyDelete
  12. It sometimes feels as though I have spent my life attempting to look beyond the veil, to see and understand "the divine mystery of the non-material world." It is this "world" that is for me the real world, where reality is truly perceived. By understanding it better, I can, hopefully, become a better human being, and in doing so lift the veil more frequently. I believe the veil becomes even thinner once we open our thought and our lives to the idea. And then, even that thinness disappears....

    Equating this with music is a perfect opening to understanding this idea. Music transports, transcends, and elevates our thought. Indeed. I was not familiar with Hans Kung, so thank you for this introduction. "In Him we live and move and have our being," is one of my favorite biblical phrases.

    I always look forward to reading the ideas you put forth. Thank you for this post.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Thanks so much, KARIN, for your kind comments. Yes, I think that everyone has to find his or her own thin spaces. What might be a thin place for one person may be a "thick place" for someone else. For everyone, however, there is a thin place somewhere in this crazy world. That is my hope at least.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Thanks for your thoughtful comments, TERESA. I agree with everything you say, especially about the veil becoming thinner as we open our minds to the infinite possibilities of life. Hans Kung is a great thinker, and he is always concerned about the reality that lies beyond the words and rituals. He also has a history of courageously calling a foul whenever he sees the church committing rank hypocrisy.

    ReplyDelete
  15. I was not familiar with the term “thin places” until I saw it in comments at your last post. Knowing it comes from Celtic spirituality resonates, because I felt the boundary between the material and divine disappear when I met my beech-tree mother in the churchyard at Tara, with complete surprise. Never had I felt unconditional love as I felt it that unexpected connection. The phrase “that reasonable trust which transcends reason” perfectly describes what I felt the first time, and again when I returned the following year. This is something I never felt within Christianity, where I always felt that God was Other, but not internalized. Although Jesus said, “you shall be like him,” the church managed to externalize God for me (though I recognize that many, including Hans Kung, who is new to me, thank you, had deeply internalized understanding of God).

    ReplyDelete
  16. What an amazing story, RUTH. You truly experienced a very thin place and were inalterably transformed by it—so transformed that you felt the need to quickly return to that place. Once we have had those types of experiences, we continue to search for—or at least be open to—similar experiences. Often, however, they just appear in unexpected places at unexpected times.

    One of these days, we will have a more extended conversation about the varieties of faith that can be found under the "Christian" banner. I try to remember, however, that the teachings of my childhood—teachings that emphasized exclusivity, formulas, legalisms, and a belief system—represent only one strain of a religion that has endured in myriad forms for two thousand years. Through Kung and others, I have discovered that there are common threads that underpin and connect all great wisdom traditions, including Christianity. As Meister Eckhart once said, however, one cannot find the kernels unless the shells are broken. Consider me a shell-breaker.

    ReplyDelete
  17. Interesting post indeed.
    Did you know that the winter solstice is considered a 'thin' time of year particularly in the northern hemisphere?
    Now I sound like a real nut! Am quite sane and a follower of Ruth's blog.
    Saw you comment on my chum Cait's blog.
    Small world.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Thanks for your comments, ELIZABETH, and, yes, I have heard that the winter solstice is considered a "thin place" is some areas of the world. If you are "a real nut," consider me to be in the same bag with you.

    ReplyDelete
  19. so glad that you put this post up. I love the thought of thin places and I agree that it is not always a geographical place but can be words music and smells that have a way of taking us out of the "real" into the Spiritual. Can you tell that I'm about 99per cent celtic born!!

    ReplyDelete
  20. Hi, GERRY! So glad you dropped by again and thanks for the lovely comments. Yes, I think that "thin places" can be anything that creates an opening into the greater, non-material Reality of life. And let me assure you that the "celtic born" are always especially welcome on this site. My family is from Northern Ireland originally (came to this country in 1729), and my dog's name is Derry.

    ReplyDelete
  21. Thank you for calling by at my blog and for your kind words.
    What a wonderful blog you have, a kindred spirit methinks! I have enjoyed a long spell looking at your books, all of which are of interest to me.
    The current (music) post is also interesting but probably second nature to we Celts. Have you the Celtic blood too?

    ReplyDelete
  22. Thanks for your comment, CAIT, and, yes, I have plenty of Celtic blood in my veins. As will note from my response to Gerry's comments, my family is from Northern Ireland (when it was just Ireland), and my dog's name is Derry, named after County Derry.

    ReplyDelete
  23. Thank you, George, for introducing me to this wonderful concept of "thin places". I have experienced this porous and permeable place on many occasions: most often when I am standing in front of a masterpiece of art, but a fine work of jazz will bring me there also.

    ReplyDelete
  24. Thank you, DUTCHBABY! Yes, I would have expected that your have experienced "thin places." Glad to introduce you to the concept. I, too, find deep inspiration in certain works of jazz.

    ReplyDelete