Juries and Psalms

I sat in on RWC trumpet juries today, and found myself in a familiar room on the unfamiliar side of the table. I wore a tie, carried no instrument, and gave written comments. I've never felt overly drawn to college teaching; it isn't quite so different from grade-school teaching for me, inasmuch as it involves some good students, some bad students, a lot of paperwork, and not very much playing. But this was actually quite enjoyable, at least selfishly and entirely from my own perspective. (I don't remember juries being enjoyable as a student) The stakes were high, which is always the exciting thing about performing as a trumpeter. There is no hiding on my instrument; every day at work is like a day at work atop a skyscraper. There's a wonderful rush from doing such a dangerous job, and inexpressible satisfaction from doing it well. Of course, no one really lives or dies because a trumpet player misses a note. (Some teachers would do well to remember this.) But a ten note passage with nine beautiful tones and one splat is a very different thing than a memo with nine words spelled correctly and one different typo; the whole effect of the thing falls apart with even a hair of a mistake.

I visited Samuel Magus, Kaitlyn, and Baby H in Batavia today, a cozy family which now owns the sleekest automobile in their entire extended family. I'm reading Matt 23, Ios 13, Il IV, and Livy. I finished Reflections on the Psalms last night, and am mulling one of my favorite passages today: (in answer to the question of how praise should be regarded in the psalms, or at least the demand for it: "I had never noticed that all enjoyment spontaneously overflows into praise unless (sometimes even if) shyness or the fear of boring others is deliberately brought in to check it. The world rings with praise--lovers praising their mistresses, readers their favorite poet, walkers praising the countryside, players praising their favorite game--praise of weather, wines, dishes, actors, motors, horses, colleges, countries, historical personages, children, flowers, mountains, rare stamps, rare beetles, even sometimes politicians or scholars. I had not noticed how the humblest, and at the same time the most balanced and capacious minds, praised most, while the cranks, misfits, and malcontents praised least. The good critics found something to praise in many imperfect works; the bad ones continually narrowed the list of books we might be allowed to read. The healthy and unaffected man, even if luxuriously brought up and widely experienced in good cookery, could praise a very modest meal: the dyspeptic and the snob found fault with all. Except where intolerably adverse circumstances interfere, praise almost seems to be inner health made audible."

I think Lewis is right. And I suspect that the RWC trumpet students are thankful I read this passage the night before their juries.