New Year's Tales, One Modeled on Another, From Darkness To Light

Part 1: 2023 Just Had To Set Up a Climb into 2024...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

That was the morning on Dec. 30 ... I got up knowing I had been assigned one last battle for the year ... as a GOOD STEWARD, sometimes one has to go confront bad stewards gone wild ...

I had to laugh because 2023 was setting up 2024 to start just like that. On Dec. 30 I still had to deal with what I had to deal with, but had some hours ahead of me. Since trees are coming down in Golden Gate Park in my usual stomping grounds, I decided to begin my winter project: climbing Lone Mountain here in San Francisco, which southern sides are dominated by the University of San Francisco ... that park-like campus, between semesters, is a wonder of quiet beauty. I once attended a student's graduation there, and I remembered ... what I was not sure of was how far it was to the top from there. But, I knew St. Ignatius Parish was on the southwestern corner, and I have been going past there for years... so, it was easy enough to get back to the great square it dominates ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

It is under repair at the moment, and that brought to mind an old Gothic cathedral of the imagination ... we passed a churchyard because of Brahms the last time we were there ... and for the New Year I found a living bass who has made it into my top 5 favorite bass voices -- we shall recall the wonderful message of "Auf Dem Kirchhofe," from darkness to light, with British bass Alastair Miles ... if Kurt Möll (1938-2017) was considered to have the purring, timbre of a contrabassoon, Mr. Miles's voice has the beauty of a cello made of solid oak, made to the finest specifications for a wood and an instrument of that power and beauty...

I notice about myself having been drawn to that theme ... from darkness because of the state of the world, and fighting through it because of love, but because in the service of love, coming also into light and peace and joy... I suppose that is why, at the very end of the year, I was willing to take on one last battle ... and continued my preparatory climb, leaving the green and the last view of Sutro Tower to the south...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

... and heading for my approach to the rest of the "mountain" -- it is a true rocky hill, unlike Buena Vista Park, and it is Lone Mountain because it is the only true rocky hill and not fixed sand dune between there and the Pacific Ocean in my region of town. How far away is that? We'll see ... first, under the trees, through which the bell tower at the top of the hill is peeking ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

Once past there, a gorgeous view of downtown San Francisco emerged as I prepared to cross the second-to-last street before the climbing began in earnest ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

But it was about here that I realized: this side of the hill has been made into a campus ... even past the last paved road -- a major thoroughfare -- it just could not be that hard, because students are up and down this area every day during the semester.

I also remembered what I would photograph a bit later: Buena Vista Hill, way off to the south --

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

-- was MUCH higher. That meant that although I had actually gone as far as I intended to go on this day, I was probably already almost all the way to the top of Lone Mountain. What makes it a challenge is the distance from my home before even starting to climb ... but ... since I had already gotten that far ... you all know what I did!

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

Having gone this high, there were more utterly stunning views ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

... and still more...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

... up the main drag...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

... and there I was, at the highest point on Lone Mountain, on the first attempt!

And OH, the reward of the views from THERE, for there is no height in the next FOUR MILES from there to the Pacific Ocean!

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

One can see a line of white in the lower right hand corner ... that is the tide coming into San Francisco Bay at 12 miles an hour ... even on a calm day, that is what makes swimming in that area so dangerous ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

I plan to return to Lone Mountain often ... a sunset from there after a climb, and any one of three nearby buses to get me to my home quickly in the twilight ... that's a 2024 plan... although I must say that I so enjoyed my climb and the vistas it gave me that I knew I would soon return to the green ... but from there, home, for I knew my duty, and it was there that the voice of my favorite bass began to sing in my head ... for the task I had to do required prayer for wisdom and mercy ...

Herr Moll's solo in Beethoven's Missa Solemnis in the Agnus Dei portion there is his second recording ... when he was a much younger bass, he first sang the part, and there are interviews from his roles of that time in which he expressed his relief that he was able to carry off things that one expected from a man with more age and maturity, and his gratitude for the opportunity. Perhaps the most endearing thing about him was that he never lost that sense of gratitude and gravity, even as his mastery increased ... one can hear it even more in his second recording ... the earnest humility of the prayer fit the man, knowing that the gravity of the privilege before him is something he will still need mercy to carry out.

How often in the "B minor" moments of 2023 did I need mercy ... Beethoven's Agnus Dei hit me where Bach's whole B minor Mass met me after the death of my grandmother ... how often have I needed mercy... and I rejoice to say I have never lacked it, for He Who has called me is faithful! One prays differently when one knows the prayer will be heard ... and so I moved toward my home purposefully, and made it in time for sunset ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 30, 2023

... and thus went to the last battle in all assurance. What had to be done was done, and New Year's Eve passed peacefully ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, December 31, 2023

Then January 1, 2024 dawned with all paths open and full of light before me!

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

I went down from where the southwestern flank of Lone Mountain meets the northern edge of Golden Gate Park ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

... all the way to San Francisco's Conservatory of Flowers ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

... but since I had so much time still to spend on the holiday, I left the crowd in Golden Gate Park and retraced my steps to Lone Mountain ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

... and its beautiful, calm green...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

... where I found these late survivors of autumn that have become early heralds of the spring ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

... and sat for a time, letting the music of the day fill my heart and mind ... mercy received, new year commenced ... I was so relieved and grateful!

But on my way home, I thought to actually pass the main entrance of St. Ignatius Parish ... just how immense it is one does not understand until one is almost at the doors...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

... and what a massive job it has to be to repair it! Of course nothing was happening on the holiday, and as one might expect, on NO DAY any time soon will I get a chance to get in and look around and see ... but of course, if you can't REALLY get in a door...

Part 2: The Portal Of Imagination Is Always Open

OF COURSE, out stepped the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past, in his role as Reverend Kantor in 1823! He put out his hand to me with a smile, and I took it and passed right through costuming into December 1823, and the interior of an old parish -- back into the old church by Brahms' churchyard in "Auf Dem Kirchhofe," which itself was under repair.

"Herr Pfarrer Kantor -- you will never believe it -- that lightning strike in the autumn stabilized the whole steeple because our nails and girding have melted between the stones, and so we have been able to finally take care of the imminent major risk to the building!"

That was tall, enthusiastic Herr Heinz, still bearing an eerie resemblance to basso profundo Jerome Hines, another great favorite of mine ... it was again perfectly hilarious with me being again 21 and him 25 with Herr Moll twenty-some odd years older than both of us ... Q-inspired stage magic is really something, given that Jerome Hines was born in 1921 and was older than all of us! However, he was certainly not complaining! In character, Herr Heinz had put together all his architectural skills and was leading in the rebuild of the village the church was in!

Of course, my friend spotted me.

"Fräulein Matthaus -- on time as ever!"

Frau Kantor had not been showing when I last saw her, but she was now at last 5-6 months into her pregnancy, glowing, happy, and busy, as ever.

"We were not able to use the main portion of the cathedral all through Advent and not even at Christmas, but we shall decorate it now, for Sunday we shall thank the Lord for this new year, and that we have our cathedral open -- and then again for Epiphany!"

I was dressed like the women of the village, and had been accepted among them, more or less ... a few kept looking unhappily at me and then at handsome young Herr Heinz, but no one said anything, because Frau Kantor was not having it. She loved me dearly, and she was in every way the analog to her husband: kind, loving, mighty, and not to be messed with, at all.

Frau Kantor called the holiday decorations we were all putting up Winterlichter -- winter lights, to be left up until Epiphany because of the late opening of the parish ... after the struggle, light and revelation of the purpose ... I realized that I was getting that lesson again as we made the interior bright and the beauty of the old parish became apparent. Other men were cleaning the windows -- this parish had already been through its Lutheran makeover, but still, the simple scenes of events in Scripture were lovely and were coming to light as more light came through them.

I worked and listened ... much had changed in the village since I had last visited from 2023 ... it was December 29, 1823 at the moment, and progress had been made upon rebuilding everything. One would think Herr and Frau Kantor were at the center of all of it ... but upon deeper listening, that was not it ... they were not at the center ... one could also see this by how Frau Kantor delegated. Instead, they specialized in convincing the people of the village that God had blessed them with the ability they needed to rebuild their village ... out of the darkness of years of war and loss, by faith into the light of the mercy and grace of God, and working in that light.

As we were working at that moment, a villager who had been away on a journey came in and expressed his deep surprise -- "Herr Pfarrer Kantor, what is this that you have done -- this is a miracle!"

"Give glory to God, Herr Folger -- I am not the miracle worker -- and save some thanks for Herr Jerome Heinz, lead architect, with his industrious builders! You two should indeed meet and talk, because ... ."

And another great connection was made between businessmen of the village, with Herr Folger having come back from Köln (Cologne as we say in English) with important modern ideas (modern for 1823 and 1824, at least).

"Now that would be a miracle, Herr Folger -- that would solve the last problem if only we could get it here!" Herr Heinz said.

Then they went and brought Herr Kantor back with them.

"There's just one problem left, and we can't fix it with what we have in the village," Herr Heinz said. "We focused on the northern sides of the roof because that is where most of the storms break, but there is one place in that southwestern tower because whoever built this building cut corners on the sacred geometry ... we don't often get sustained wind from that direction, but when we do, it sets up a harmonic, and given long enough, that harmonic can vibrate southern half of the roof apart. Now, we've got the roof itself as strong as we can make it, but the tower requires structural change we can't safely do without that thing from Köln!"

"Are things stable for now?" Herr Kantor said.

"Oh, it will hold for a good while, provided we do not have sustained straight-line winds from the southwest for a few months -- the summer worries me, a little, because sometimes something does make it into Europe from the South Atlantic then."

Herr Kantor considered this and said something that to many other men might have been a joke, but the double-deep gravity of his voice, although he delivered it with a smile, left no doubt that he was sincere.

"I shall pray for that storm to come in the winter," he said, "for with the work you have already done, the Lord only needs to send us one direct hit of lightning, and the metal will hold the stone until we can afford to bring up that engine from Koln to help us with fixing the structure of the tower!"

I smiled ... I knew where this thought had come from ... Schubert's "Grenzen der Menschheit," as a loving Father spread benevolent lightnings and thus did what showed the gap between Him and mankind, mankind who had better attend to the things that fit on mankind's little ring and stop trying to play God ...

But around the little ring of mankind's affairs that Schubert's song ends on, there came the everlasting question in the capitalist age.

"How much will it take to bring up the equipment we need from Köln?" Herr Kantor asked.

Herr Folger and Herr Heinz hemmed and hawed for a minute or two, and that indicated the price ... but Herr Kantor, without ever breaking a pleasant smile, dropped to that awesome low note that ends "Grenzen der Menschheit" ...

"How much, gentlemen?"

Herr Folger wrote down a figure and handed it to Herr Heinz, who took out a pencil and said, "Plus labor," and added it to the paper before totaling it and handing the finished figure to Herr Kantor, whose eyebrows went way up for a long moment.

"They must be paving the streets with gold in Koln, to go with the sacred geometry," he said.

"Just about ready to do that," Herr Folger said, "because the modern engineers are surely collecting that gold!"

Herr Heinz shook his head.

"It's winter," he said. "This village will not have resources to even touch that until harvest -- and even then, it all can't be used here."

"Yet we know that if we need it to make this building safe for the rest of the century, we already have it," Herr Kantor said.

The two younger men grappled with this spiritual reality for a long moment, but then subsided and nodded.

As if on cue, the posthorn was heard and the postman came in --

"Herr Pfarrer, a letter from Koln, from Freiherr von Schadenfreude!"

Now he said that without irony, but that was one of those names -- joy in sorrow or even joy in wickedness -- that only a villain could get in a drama, so I instantly knew why Frau Kantor looked up in concern. Freiherr is German for baron, so here we had a wicked nobleman.

Herr Kantor read the letter in apparent calm, but his face darkened ... there was great emotion there, but he was restrained, and he smiled at the two younger men who were waiting eagerly.

"Now's that someone who has the money!" Herr Folger said.

"Maybe he has heard of the work we are doing here and is sending an offering!" Herr Heinz said.

The veins suddenly stood out on Herr Kantor's neck, but that was not directed at Herr Heinz, so the rector's smile remained unchanged.

"The baron," he said, "is administering while our prince is away cementing peace with our regional neighbors. He would like to have Haydn's Creation performed in Köln under his administration to welcome the prince back, and is in need of a bass."

"Oh, Herr Kantor, you should go do it -- we know you can!" Herr Folger said.

"Once you get to Köln, somehow, the rest will come together!" Herr Heinz said.

"I appreciate your vote of confidence," the rector purred.

"Oh, we hear you keeping your concert voice up -- half the village comes and works here to hear you, keeping it up," Herr Heinz said.

"Half of that comes to hear you, actually, getting up there as well," Herr Kantor said. "What a blessing to have you here, Herr Heinz, and finally in the choir!"

Herr Folger smiled.

"Some basses are doing their best to keep their eyes on certain altos!"

I am so glad I am an African American woman and cannot be seen blushing that easily! I kept working like I neither heard that exchange nor the tittering of the young women putting up the Winterlichter with me!

Herr Heinz's character was passionate and forward, and he nearly blew Herr Folger from the room with his mighty bass.

"I shall do better than my eyes, in due time, no matter what others think of it!"

That quieted everything and everyone with a contrary opinion before Herr Kantor's even deeper voice scattered the mood.

"Gentlemen -- we have worked too hard -- no blowing down the nave!"

Everyone laughed and things went on, but I noticed that, at a quiet moment, Herr and Frau Kantor exchanged concerned looks, and then Herr Kantor took the figure of the money needed and the letter from Baron von Schadenfreude and put them up on the altar. He there knelt and bowed his head before getting up and turning around to meet with his deacons and three young associate ministers whom he was training that day.

The next day was one of those strange winter days in which a big storm takes its time on approach ... calm, but increasingly charged and tense.

The weather fit Herr Kantor's mood: he was not breaking out on the people around him, but he was clearly quite disturbed. The villagers gave him a wide, wide berth, for normally they flocked to his joy, but ...

"The anger of a man like that is the end of the world," old Frau Sachs explained to me, "because it is very hard to make a man like that angry outside of righteous indignation. But if he gets there, he will pull on Heaven and Earth and use that voice and even open Hell. Of course he is given a wide berth on such a day -- no one here is in any danger, but even in potential, Herr Kantor can be terrifying."

She then smiled grimly.

"How sad for Freiherr von Schadenfreude!" she said. "He does not know not to walk himself into the end of the world!"

Herr Sachs walked up with a smile.

"If I were still in my betting youth," he said, "I'd make a fortune on that prediction, because nobody under 60 would believe it!"

"People measure power by title and position," Frau Sachs said, "but remember this, young lady: people always forget you cannot tell what side God is on by looking, for He is invisible. You have to know Him and get over where He is. The baron does not know this. Herr Kantor does. There is no contest here, although it will appear so in earthly terms!"

At that moment, I heard Herr Heinz from way, way up outside -- "That's it for today! The wind is getting too high and no sacred geometry gone wrong is worth any man's life. Full day's pay, of course, but get home safely!"

"He is another one who is growing powerful, Fräulein Matthaus," Frau Sachs said, with a smile.

Herr Kantor stepped into the sanctuary from his office at the church, his deacons and associate ministers streaming out behind him.

"If Herr Heinz says it is too windy for work, it is," he intoned. "Go in peace to the safety of your homes."

He as ever would be the last to leave, but Herr Heinz was close to the last, and smiled to see that I waited on him. And, because we waited, we heard the voice of the rector, contending with the wind and nearing thunder, in prayer, although now he was not kneeling -- he was moving around, checking the windows and securing all the doors inside and out -- but one in the back gave way.

Herr Heinz shook his head.

"All this we are doing on the roof, and I forgot that last ancient door -- I have to go back and help him, because the way the wind can move through the chapel on a day like this he is going to get blown like a kite in the wrong spot."

"Oh, we have to go back," I said, "because that sounds like too much fun for you men to have alone."

He laughed and embraced me with one arm, and we went back -- we ended up moving one of the rector's bookshelves in front of that door and then overloading it with books to keep it shut.

"I knew there was a reason that we kept all those old historical volumes in Latin!" he said, and laughed merrily. "Now, out through the front doors, and across to the rectory!"

Frau Kantor was waiting just inside the rectory doors, and was never at a loss -- she had seen Herr Heinz and I turn back to help her husband, and had broth and blankets ready for all three of us.

"I love him so that I love all those who love him so!" she said as she embraced Herr Heinz and me and kissed us both on the cheek.

Herr Kantor's dark mood had broken with the storm breaking -- he was exhilarated, and said about it all that he intended to say to Herr Heinz and me.

"I stayed in the chapel praying longer than I should have if one considers the weather," he said, "but as you two returned to help me, I received the answer I was seeking. We are never alone in the battle to which we are assigned -- all the help we need shall always be sent!"

It was quite the study in contrasts as the storm intensified outside but Herr Kantor glowed more and more in his joy, delighting in his wife and guests ... that reminded me of Martti Talvela singing Schumann's "Lust der Sturmnacht," in which a man defies a stormy night because he is where Heaven has granted him love within his home.

Frau Kantor said a little more to me as she and I worked on the dishes together while the two men went out to get some more wood off the pile and set up the overnight fire.

"Sometimes, when you need the Lord Himself to do something, the devil sends his counterfeit offer," she said. "Freiherr von Schadenfreude wants my husband to sing bass for his production of Haydn's Creation, and he pays well when he pays."

"Oh," I said.

"The baron's mistreatment of musicians, artists, and artisans is well-known," she said.

"Does not the prince of this principality know?" I said.

"He does not know all of it, because the baron's cruelty is deep and subtle, and few were brave enough to say what happened the last time the prince was away," Frau Kantor said. "The baron was reprimanded, but His Highness is very clement, and so forgave him and gave him another chance. At that time, my husband was not yet at home -- he was singing Handel's Messiah in London that year. The baron knows my husband is a great singer, but does not yet know my husband -- but he will. He will."

Herr and Frau Kantor would not hear of their guests braving the storm, so I slept in the nursery that the Kantors had prepared for their coming bundle of joy, and Herr Heinz slept in the sitting room. Because the nursery was so much nearer to the Kantors' bedroom, I heard the Kantors' further conversation.

"There are three things I can do that are easy, and with the storm, that gives me time, for he will assume his first letter was delayed -- I can go to Köln and sing, for there would be nothing wrong intrinsically in me doing that. I can request that he bring it all here, so that our village and our projects will benefit from all the people with money that will then come through here. I can forebear payment in either event and request instead that he might move the crane from Köln here so the chapel can be fixed before the summer.

"But he is such a wicked man -- such a wicked man! I know he will corrupt every good I might do that he touches! Already, he has touched too much here in even writing this letter!"

There was a long pause, and then ...

"Mein geliebter Ehemann..."

My beloved husband... so tender a phrase from Frau Kantor!

"My beloved husband," she said again, "we know he means nothing but to use your reputation to cover his evil deeds and get in better favor with His Highness."

"Yes, my beloved wife, that is exactly it. I may not do this thing, for that reason!"

"I know that, my love."

She paused for a moment, and then said, "I would rather be your widow, and tell our child that you died a faithful man for righteousness than to live with you in tormented conscience and that be the legacy you leave us. You must do what is right, whatever the cost."

"And that is why, my beloved wife, that you are she, and also the mother of my child. I never doubted your full agreement. It is just very hard for me to say. I have been a widower. I know the anguish this wicked baron may subject you to, while he can only send me to Heaven. I have no fear for myself ... but for you, and our child ... the strongest man, in love, can be weak on that side, and I am not even the strongest man."

"Yes, you are," she said, "at least to me."

"Well, a woman in love can be deluded sometimes," he said, and she laughed. "I keep telling all of you I'm just a little man, but nobody seems to listen!"

"And because you are a little man, and humble," she said, "you can be made mighty in ways big, proud men cannot."

There was a long pause, and then the rector spoke in the gravity of his double-deep range.

"I know what I am to do, my wife," he said. "I shall begin tomorrow."

The next day was the day of the preparation to take food to the sick villagers, and also the day before the mid-week service. Frau Kantor ably administered this ministry, as ever, but I stayed near her. Of course she also was deeply disturbed by that letter of the evil baron, and what it would mean to say no to him -- she bore up bravely, but I could see the weight upon her, and of course, anything that affected her affected her child in the womb ... so at moments between people running in and out I sang to her ...

"Danke schön, Fräulein Matthaus ... your voice and your people's song lifts the spirit, and rewards me for working on my English!"

I then made her laugh by sliding "Down by the Riverside" right over into tolerably good German, and after that good laugh she was all right again -- just in time, because my voice drew a crowd like the rector's did. Yet each villager who came peeking through the pantry had brought more food for their neighbors in need! We finished early that day in the work because of this, and it was a beautiful day to finish anything inside early.

Herr Kantor proposed a walk, and of course Herr Heinz popped right back up and mirrored that proposal to me, so off we went for a little while ... in the sunlight, but the way the rector led told us of his feelings ... from the sunshine down into a deeply shaded valley, to come out to scale the sunny heights above...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

"Odd year for this region of Germany," Herr Heinz said. "It is as if your coming has put us into a gentler climate, Fraulein Mätthaus -- as yet, no accumulation of snow has been able to stay on the ground!"

"Oh, what a lovely thing to say, Herr Heinz, but remember: no one above is silly enough to let me manage the weather. My stage timing, though, is pretty good!"

He had a good laugh at that, and so did Herr Kantor -- they knew where I had added that line to the script from!

Meanwhile, things were afoot -- the rector's serenity indicated a plan already in motion, and sure enough, when we got back to the rectory, the first trickle of a stream of people -- musicians and artists and artisans from the region -- was coming in. Each of them received the same instruction after telling their story, some of which were heart-wrenching: "Write it all down, with dates and times, three times: once for the prince, once for me to put safely at the church, and once for me to take to Koln myself."

With everything that was going on for the rest of the week, that stream of people with stories to tell kept coming, and kept coming, and kept coming, and that stack of stories got bigger and bigger. This also became a moment of discovery -- the revival of the village and the old cathedral was a surprise to many, and from there the news would spread out. Many of those who came to speak with Herr Kantor also remained for the New Year service and also Epiphany Sunday ... there was so much awe, love, and praise that day no one would ever have imagined anything in the New Year could go wrong.

Part 3: But Again, Winterreise Makes for a Rough Path...

It was just the next morning that I encountered the young man from Schubert's Winterreise again -- the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past's doppelgänger, gaunt, tattered, and worn, looking after the posthorn and postman, knowing there was no mail for him from the next town, but still crying out his desire to know what is going on with his beloved in her hometown, and if there is any hope for him. Today we know: a man can die of a broken heart, and so every shade of anguish Herr Möll works up to the terrible pain of the last cries of "Mein Herz!" is warranted:

My own heart went out to these cries ... but I had left in the previous year any thought that I could turn this man or anyone from the path of despair they so passionately clung to. He in his Winterreise had come into the town of Hoffnung -- Hope, which ever looks forward! But all he could think about, with all that was going on around him that was recovering, rebuilding, and growing brighter, was the town he had left behind, where he desired to know what was no longer any of his business. For those whose passion was intent solely on what was left behind them, I could afford to invest no compassion!

So, even with my own heart breaking, I turned from him, and encountered the embrace of our kindly old Ghost of Musical Greatness Past.

"This was a little test, and you passed it," he said to me. "I said to you last week that we must continue to explore the dimensions of Winterreise, and you indeed have passed your review of what came before. But my doppelgänger is here in his old role to introduce you to his actual one in this tale ... imagine him, waiting on a letter that shall never come, but with no capacity for even natural affection for anyone. Imagine that man, with his desire to be involved and do his will in the next town, with the power of a baron, and a soul full of hatred for those he considers beneath him, waiting on a letter that shall never come, and, in never coming, destroy his delusions of godhood!"

The scene changed -- now, the doppelgänger was clearly in a nobleman's clothing -- fine ornate red velvet suit and velvet winter cape, in tolerable health and strength ... but with a hollowness about his face, as if something was consuming him from within ... his eyes betrayed a burning that, like the Lake of Fire, would forever be consuming the damned.

Baron von Schadenfreude was in his study at his castle, pacing the floor there, and every turn seemed more and more vicious as his black cape whipped around behind him with a snap ... he was not so much considering a matter, but working himself up, and in a man that size, the potential for great and terrible violence was obvious. Even in potential, the baron was utterly terrifying...

"And they said you don't know how to play a villain, Herr Möll," I said.

The doppelgänger -- for that also was him -- looked at me and smiled cruelly as he crossed the gap between us with one stride and loomed over me with his immense size.

"Remember, my plump little plaything," he purr-growled in that same glorious double-deep range, "if I had wanted to, Germany in the 1930s gave me plenty of models!"

If you have never heard a basso profundo cackle, don't. He kept that out of his opera career for good reason -- about five seconds of that, and he could have cleared any opera house in the world! But, for me, only three terrible seconds -- the posthorn sounded in the street, and I sank into the embrace of the elder doppelgänger as the younger one thundered, "Where is that accursed postman! I hear his horn! Where is that letter!"

He was just casually putting down those F2s, D2s, C2s ... just using that voice to bring terror to everyone around him. Every one of those low notes seemed to hit his fire and stoke that up until it was nearly ready to break out of the fireplace and destroy everything in its path!

A servant timidly answered -- but then again, this servant was actually quite brave, to spare the others --

"He has passed -- no mail, mein Herr!"

"If your legs were worth anything, I'd have you chase that man down and then have both of you beaten, but not today, for I have a greater matter to settle. Does that little chaplain, because he sang for Duke Wellington and the King of England, and President Jackson in America, and this one and that one all around Europe -- does he think he can defy me?"

"Mein Herr, there was a great storm -- perhaps your letter was not received. Surely that must be it, for only a fool would defy your wishes!"

Baron von Schadenfreude chuckled darkly.

"Indeed," he growled. "Many have tried! All have regretted it -- briefly!"

Yet this servant ... there was a spark of something good in him, for with his flattery, he had turned aside the baron's wrath toward Herr Kantor for the time being.

"It is indeed winter, Walther, and so you may be right. Hurrah for all fools with a very short remaining lifespan because it is winter -- send in my secretary!"

"Ja wohl, mein Herr!"

Baron von Schadenfreude resumed his pacing until his secretary came in -- a frightened, willowy man who dared not meet the baron's eyes as he bid him a good morning.

"Take dictation," the baron ordered, and the secretary hastily set himself up to do so, and then waited as the baron resumed his pacing for several minutes. At one point he went to his side of the desk and checked one of his books -- "Ah, it is all right -- my prince delays his return, so I have time to do as I will."

That reminded me of an old Sunday School lesson ... two actually ... an administrator, forgiven by his prince for his wrongdoing, goes out and forgets to extend the same kindness to those beneath him ... another administrator, thinking his prince delayed in his coming, began to wickedly abuse the servants beneath him. My blood ran cold then ... Baron von Schadenfreude was the combination of both of those, and so I knew what Herr Kantor, a subject of the prince and thus his administrator, was in for, and perhaps his family and village with him!

And yet just then, the latch of the window broke, and the baron, caught by surprise, was blown off his feet because of his big cape ... his calendar also flipped seven days forward. Then the scene changed, and instead of the doppelganger in the road, a messenger was riding swiftly toward Herr Kantor on the village road.

"Herr Pfarrer Gurnemanz Kantor, of the village of Hoffnung," the messenger said.

"I am he," said Herr Kantor.

"This message is expressly sent to you at the command of Baron von Schadenfreude, administrator for His Highness Solomo Adenauer," the messenger said, and handed a letter over -- fine envelope, big seal, relatively tiny address. That showed how much the baron thought of himself and how little of the man he had sent the letter to.

Herr Kantor was not impressed, but also was not one for killing the messenger.

"Danke," he said, and produced das Trinkgeld -- a tip -- for the man.

The messenger's eyes lit up.

"Herr Pfarrer," he said, "we know you are not a rich man."

"And we know you have traveled a long way very swiftly in allegiance to your lord," the rector purred, "which level of devotion I can appreciate because of my allegiance to my Lord. Take this, and you and your family enjoy the New Year."

"Ach, Herr Pfarrer, danke schön ... ."

To my astonishment, tears came to the messenger's eyes.

"Herr Pfarrer, we do not know if you received the first letter, but if it was known that you had, a different type of message would have been sent here, and ... and I am almost afraid to return before I have an answer to give him for your response to that second letter that he will be pleased with!"

Herr Kantor opened the letter and read it on the spot, and then smiled.

"You may go upon your way rejoicing, good and faithful messenger! Tell your lord his letter has been received, and that I shall meet him in Köln in three days if the weather holds."

The messenger indeed went on his way rejoicing, the burden lifted from him.

"You are going to Köln?" I said.

"Of course. You heard what the messenger said. I will not have unnecessary violence upon him any more than I would upon you. But his lord is not my Lord -- and it is at my Lord's command, doing as He showed me to do, that I will go to Köln, praying that by that time, my other letter will have been received and will be answered!"

I realized then that he had written to Prince Solomo -- sure enough, by the time we walked back to the rectory, the postman had come through again!

"Herr Pfarrer Kantor -- a letter to you from His Highness!"

I noted this letter by comparison to that of the baron -- much less ornate, befitting a man calm and judicious in his own authority, needing no outward show to impress anyone. This letter was brief, and impressed the rector much more ... he smiled as he looked upward, and then bowed his head.

"My Lord," he said, "You Who turn the heart and schedule of princes -- I thank You! It is now just a matter of Your good time."

The weather did not hold -- finally there were significant accumulations of snow -- yet in my nightmares I saw the baron, pacing in his chamber, looking at the heavy snow, and demanding "Where is he? How dare that accursed Kantor defy me?" None of his servants pointed out the obvious. They scattered from him in the way people tethered to a wicked man nonetheless run for their lives as far as they can as often as they can ... but also before waking I saw many, many of the servants praying as the baron's rage increased during the snowy days, including that one who had turned the baron's wrath away from Herr Kantor for another week.

On the first clear day when the roads were tolerably passable, Herr Kantor arose and made ready for his journey. He assigned that week's sermon, and the next, and the next, to his three young associated ministers, and set forth how they might continue onward if needed -- each had a key to his office at the church, and therefore also access to all his extensive notes on every subject he had preached and that would come around in the lectionary again.

Meanwhile, a great number of war veterans who knew Herr Kantor had come from all around the region, and presented arms -- but not loaded at the moment. This was just to say that they would look out for the village and for Frau Kantor and me.

"One hand with our tools, the other with our weapons," Herr Heinz said. "There is no higher point in town than the roof of the ancient chapel -- we will not be having any nonsense here!"

All things being made ready at the village, it was time for Herr Kantor to leave. Before going he removed his hat and knelt down in the snow, entreating divine help and mercy, and half the village must have come up and joined him. Frau Kantor and I had done all our weeping before coming outside, and so this lifted our spirits as well ... so there we stood, friend with friend, our arms around each other and the villagers close around us as, with all our spirits high in assurance and faith, Herr Kantor mounted his horse with a great smile, tipped his hat, and rode off.

We would need that memory, for although Herr Kantor sent word that he had arrived safely in Köln and was awaiting his audience with the baron at his castle, another week passed, and there was no more word. Yet at the end of that week, we had "thundersnow," which is unusual because snowstorms generally do not have lightning and thunder. The next day Herr Heinz came with a report -- lightning had struck the southwestern section of the roof, and now it also had a full lightning weld!

Frau Kantor received this news with tears in her eyes and shining face.

"My love is still alive," she said, "for you know he prayed for that very thing, and has surely asked for it again, and it has been granted!"

Of course this was not good evidence at all by objective standards, but Frau Kantor knew her husband.

On the eighth day, there was news -- those who passed it on were deeply shaken -- Herr Kantor had been made to wait three days because Baron von Schadenfreude, though satisfied that the rector had come to his summons, was still angry that the rector had not pressed through the weather and come sooner. So, he made the rector wait three days to see him, and then, whatever had happened at the meeting had led to the baron having such a fit of rage that the majority of his servants had fled the castle.

Yet on that same day, there was other news -- a great peace accord had been signed for the region all around by the six nearest princes, and this news was already ten days delayed getting to us.

"That means that His Highness may be near home by now," I said to Herr Heinz.

"That also means he may have outrun the news to Köln," Herr Heinz said, "for that news could not be delayed that much to no purpose."

Rejoicing commenced across the region, and at the rectory, Frau Kantor and I rolled that in and kept encouraging each other and making ready, by faith, for her husband's return. I knew she and her child would die if we did not do this. That wicked baron, just by intruding himself into the Kantors' lives, threatened them all. I stood against that threat to Frau Kantor and her child, those fourteen days.

Part 4: At Last into Light, and Rest

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 1, 2024

On the fourteenth day, word came to the village: "Armed men and noble carriages are on the road to Hoffnung!"

This caused a great mobilization of arms, but that was brief because of the next word.

"It is His Highness and his retinue -- he has returned!"

There was nothing threatening about the prince's carriages and light cavalry guard as they all rode up to the village cathedral -- the village rejoiced to see him, because he had negotiated a sure end to the wars that had destroyed the region past the Napoleonic Wars ... now, there would be peace and prosperity all around, and no one needed to feel as if they were rebuilding in vain!

Frau Kantor and I came out of the rectory, arm in arm, to see what there was to see. The solemnity of His Highness as he emerged from his carriage told us very little. He was a young prince, with gravity far beyond his years ... but then Solomo is Old German for Solomon, and that was a good name for a wise young prince. Adenauer, of course, is also the name of a wise German ruler a bit later in history that perhaps a certain young basso profundo in childhood chose as a good model!

After the royal greetings and expected responses, the prince went to the second carriage, and a very large and active man emerged with a shocking resemblance to bass Martti Talvela at about 35! This man was in the role of a physician, and as he reached his hand back he was immediately thanked. The voice was hoarse, and weak -- but still -- the depth was unmistakable.

Frau Kantor suddenly staggered as I wrapped my arms around her from behind, and her hand went over her heart -- "Mein Herz!" she gasped.

If there was any doubt that the man in the carriage was the one so addressed, his voice, even at quarter-strength, settled it.

"Meine Frau, meine Liebe, mein Herz -- Keine Angst! Nur ruhe!"

Then Herr Kantor stepped out of the carriage -- new suit, great coat, gloves, and scarf hiding plenty of serious injuries, and seriously ill -- but all he heard was the distress of his wife, and thus also their child. So he left shocked prince and dismayed physician behind and closed the gap between himself and his wife in seconds with his long strides. She revived the instant she felt his arms around her, and burst into tears, loudly praising God for her husband's return -- and then everybody from the village started shouting for joy!

Prince Solomo let that go on, even though it was not for him -- he was playing a weak third behind God and Herr Kantor, but was completely unbothered by it, smiling broadly at the joy of the people. He did, however, pay attention to the physician, who shook his head with a warning look, and after that, the prince ordered quiet.

Meanwhile, up the road, a thing appeared -- there was nothing else to call it from that distance, in the minds of most people of the time ... but the thing was the thing for which Herr Heinz had been praying.

"It's the crane from Köln!" Herr Folger said.

"We can fix the tower without killing a bunch of workers in completing the repairs!" Herr Heinz said.

More shouting, and the prince let that roll on for a good long time before having his say at last, walking over to Herr Kantor and his wife.

"I pledge before these all assembled here: whatever you require to restore the chapel, it is yours, Herr Kantor. The village shall have no further expense for it. We shall celebrate the completion of it in the mid-spring -- a new beginning -- by having Haydn's Creation staged here when you have recovered. I have told five princes about you, and they all told me they already knew about your voice -- they will all come, and gladly, and here we shall make our celebration of the peace!"

All the prosperity that would thus be coming into Hoffnung because of that ... it staggered everyone to realize this was going to be real ... and then everyone looked at wonderment at Herr Kantor, who had known and walked by faith all along ... forever keeping that voice up, knowing it was the instrument to get Hoffnung the resources it needed ... he had returned to the village to find all in chaos ... and yet, in the midst of the darkness of the beginning of the work, he knew that as he was faithful to the One Who had called him, the light would break -- and it had! We all were in the victory won for us the instant Herr Kantor decided to stand for the right!

The prince waited, but then moved with a bit more alacrity after he got a more vigorous shake of the head from the physician.

"A further honor I will wait until then to bestow upon you, Herr Kantor, for I and the realm are in your deep debt. You have delivered me from the hand of an evil man to whom I had entrusted my affairs, and whom I thought I could forgive the few signs of evil that I knew of. But you dared to show me my folly. I thank you, and in due time, when you are well and all is ready, you shall know the depth of my gratitude."

"Your Highness," Herr Kantor said, "in that you have granted me all that I have requested of you for Hoffnung, and also spared my life, I consider myself in your debt!"

The prince smiled.

"That is the beauty of it, Herr Kantor. We may reciprocate in our stewardship with one another for as long as we live. For now, simply recover your health and strength. My adjunct physician, Dr. Lukas, shall remain here with you to assist you. Go in peace, Herr Kantor, with my gratitude, and that of the realm."

The prince then also gave a benediction to the gathered crowd, who began to disperse as the physician and Frau Kantor began to assist the rector on the slow walk to the rectory.

"Better let me do that," Herr Heinz said as he came up on Frau Kantor's side, and took her place as she and I hustled on to the rectory and started getting broth, blankets, poultices, compresses -- we had been prepared for two weeks, by faith, and it was time to get it all to work!

I will never forget the look on Herr Kantor's face as at last he passed the threshold of his door. Pride of victory there was none. Pain there was, and intense just before he got in -- but there was then such a rush of relief, gratitude, and joy that the pain was temporarily blotted out. Again he forgot he needed the help of Dr. Lukas and Herr Heinz as he raised both his hands toward Heaven and began a passionate prayer of gratitude. One would almost think -- because of the list of places and names that were in the details -- that he had just come from some kind of convocation where he had really been accommodated well and enjoyed the fellowship while they had done some great thing.

But then again ... perhaps they had. Hoffnung would have its needs met. The evil baron was surely done for, and the whole region would be better off for that on top of the peace accord that had at last come. What you see depends on what you are looking at ... Herr Kantor was so honored and humbled that he had been permitted even to play a small part in all of that and still get home alive ... there was nothing left to remember but joy!

However, a body recovering from vicious beatings and pneumonia, after a 10-hour journey being bumped around on 19th-century winter roads, is only going to do so much. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak, and so Herr Kantor fell right through his holy jubilation into the Knockout Zone, so quickly that he did not even have enough time to stop smiling as he fell back like a felled oak into the arms of Dr. Lukas and Herr Heinz. They carried him to bed, laying him carefully on the pillows Frau Cantor and I had prepared. He settled upon them easily, and his wheezing eased quickly in the warmth of the room.

Frau Kantor, at one moment panicked, said it all when she stopped on coming in, stunned, at the sight of him -- his slight fever made him glow, but that lingering suggestion of a smile made him radiant.

"He looks like victory at peace," she said, "and as if he will wake up and only be well after a rest!"

"He will," Dr. Lukas said, "but that is just it. He must have his rest, all this winter. Now to begin, this is his first pain-free rest for eleven days, and he must have this, without disturbance. He has eaten a good meal today and kept it down, so he is not in immediate need that way -- what he needs, above all things, is this pain-free rest he has been blessed with."

Dr. Lukas took his patient's pulse, and smiled.

"He still is running a fever, but it and his pulse have been getting better all day -- although the journey was very difficult, he knew he was coming home. Surely he walks ever forward in the light of his calling, ever with the things he has been given stewardship of in his mind and heart. He is physically strong, but surely the love that he carries has carried him. Now he must rest, for he is a mortal man no matter how angelic he looks at the moment ... ."

Frau Kantor chuckled softly, and Herr Heinz also at last smiled.

" ... but he is deeply at rest, and all of you may keep a loving watch around him with me. I have heard that all of you love to sing and talk of the things that belong to Heaven, so you may do all of that around him quietly. If I understand the account of how he survived the darkest days he experienced, it was in the fellowship of faithful souls who also defied the baron, so, let the loving watch continue."

So, we set up our loving watch, one or two singing softly and then another as we had supper in rotation. Late in the evening, Herr Kantor woke up with a great smile -- he was very weak, but was able to take a great stein of his wife's broth before going back to heavy, peaceful sleep.

"He will recover if he rests, all winter," Dr. Lukas said. "I will be here to assist him as he recovers physically, for he is a large man and requires a large man's assistance in exercise, but in all that we do, he must have deep rest between, and must not be in this winter cold too often -- but if the Lord be willing, he can make a complete recovery if he rests."

"Klar, Frau Kantor, Herr Heinz, and I said.

"Best believe he is not going to be bothered from outside of here -- we who served with him will not have it," Herr Heinz said. "We will work and watch, and watch and work."

"His associate ministers and deacons are doing very well at the church, so no problems there," Frau Kantor said.

"And I can help you nurse him," I said, "being also of strong build."

"Then he shall do very well -- if he rests," Dr. Lukas said.

And so Herr Kantor rested, sleeping all that evening and night until, in the early morning ...

"Wo bin ich?"

Where am I? ... but that was a tuned quotation meant for my ears ... he was awake enough to recognize my silhouette on the dawn watch.

"Sie sind zu Hause, Herr Pfarrer," I said, and then sang to him the appropriate answer to his brief reference to King Phillip in the German version of Don Carlo: "'Das Morgengrauen blickt herein; es naht der Tag.'"

The dawn looks in; it nears the day.

He had a good chuckle about that ... his mind was clear, and his voice was weak but definitely there as he commended my improvement in German.

"Ihre Deutsch ... immer besser, mein kind," he said. "Der Tag?"

"*24 Januar, 1824," I said.

"Nein," he said gently as the scene faded around us. "Es ist 1 Januar, 2024 -- Frohes Neues Jahr, Frau Mathews!"

And there we were, back in front of St. Ignatius Parish in San Francisco, ready for our walk to my home in the beginning of sunset, and he was well and strong again!

I just about went to the Knockout Zone, laughing from relief!

"I have read, many times, that you were as great an actor as a singer," I said at last, "and I heard the same thing about Mr. Hines and Mr. Talvela, but the half had not been told -- I was completely caught up!"

"We suited the lesson to you, Frau Mathews," he said with a smile as we began our walk, "seeing that you are a good and faithful steward who found yourself on December 29 with one last battle because of a bad steward -- and did what you were called to do!"

"Low stakes, though, compared to what went on in the 19th century," I said.

"Nein, he said. "The worth of every soul, in every century, is the same. What you have done you will not know entirely until you have taken your place above -- but walk in peace and victory in this new year, having been faithful to the end of the last!

"You also handled yourself with all the wisdom you have learned in 2023, Frau Mathews ... you went to where you might get away from the noise of the world and settle yourself for the work, did the work without needless anger and hate, and then returned to your peace and rest. Of course it was difficult. It will always be. But you have it now, Frau Mathews, and if you take time, you will have time to move restfully into your 43rd year and fully recover from the labors of your 42nd year."

"That is my intent," I said.

"Now also think, Frau Mathews, that you need not get to your birthday and then revert to not operating out of rest, barring true emergencies."

"I see you are already coming with new assignments!" I said.

"Now, Frau Mathews, you know a master teacher always has his lesson plans ... but remember ... I am only an echo!"

"'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,' I said. "I heard your choir singing that in my dreams, so loud that it woke me up on Christmas Day!"

"So, you already know the assignment," he said. "Do you think that the convalescing rector of 1824 is going to rush through the rest of his January?"

"No," I said. "You made that point, Herr Möll -- he is going to rest, and rightly so after all that!"

"And so, mein kind, you who do so much for so many, enjoy your January also."

"Just one more thing, because I hate loose ends in a story," I said. "What happened in Köln? How was Herr Kantor rescued, and what happened to the baron -- and that brave servant, Walther?"

"Settle into your rest, Frau Mathews," he purred, "for this story is almost too big for Hive to publish it in one sitting as it is!"

"I didn't even know there were memory limits before this week!" I said.

"We live and we learn, Frau Mathews -- settle down, and your questions will be answered next week!"