UNDERGRADUATE RESEARCH BLOGS
The Office of Undergraduate Research sponsors a number of grant programs, including the Circumnavigator Club Foundation’s Around-the-World Study Grant and the Undergraduate Research Grant. Some of the students on these grants end up traveling and having a variety of amazing experiences. We wanted to give some of them the opportunity to share these experiences with the broader public. It is our hope that this opportunity to blog will deepen the experiences for these students by giving them a forum for reflection; we also hope these blogs can help open the eyes of others to those reflections/experiences as well. Through these blogs, perhaps we all can enjoy the ride as much as they will.
EXPLORE THE BLOGS
- Linguistic Sketchbook
- Birth Control Bans to Contraceptive Care
- A Global Song: Chris LaMountain’s Circumnavigator’s Blog
- Alex Robins’ 2006 Circumnavigator’s Blog
- American Sexual Assault in a Global Context
- Beyond Pro-GMO and Anti-GMO
- Chris Ahern’s 2007 Circumnavigator’s Blog
- Digital Citizen
- From Local Farms to Urban Tables
- Harris Sockel’s Circumnavigator’s Blog 2008
- Kimani Isaac: Adventures Abroad and At Home
- Sarah Rose Graber’s 2004 Circumnavigator’s Blog
- The El Sistema Expedition
- The World is a Book: A Page in Rwand
Netherlands: The Haarlem Globetrotter
Vriendelijke Wereld,
My brave, little heart took the leap out of the safety of my German village homebase for a day. This past Wednesday, I traveled (in quite an appropriate direction) northwest to witness the European premier of “The Crossing,” which is a professional choral ensemble based out of Philadelphia and directed by my choral director at Northwestern University, Donal Nally. “The Crossing” and Nally have received two GRAMMYs over the past two years for their choral performances, so I was not about to miss this opportunity.
I knew I was cursed the moment I entered the FlixBus. For those of you that are not twenty-years old and/or looking to engage with cheap, terrifying, or unethical modes of transport, FlixBus is a bus service that will drag a low-budget traveler all over Europe on trips ranging anywhere from 2 to 20+ hours. Here is how I entered the FlixBus:
My first looks from the FlixBus (Frankfurt to Amsterdam)
Truly and already a European legend, optimistically on my way to Amsterdam. To flavor this post with some foreshadowing, I will now include how I left Amsterdam. Not cute.
My mug after yet another Amsterdam tragedy
Nonetheless, I arrived in the Netherlands quite joyously. I had already been last November, but the canals and bridges and pink flowers were as spectacular as ever. There is something so refreshing in the air (unless you find yourself outside a Coffeeshop, of course): so many people biking around, constant reminders of water on every walk, colorful signs singing against the neutral facades of the classic Dutch architecture. You truly feel the pace of the city as twenty cyclists fly by you without warning and sometimes a small apology. Even just six hours of Flixbusing brought me to an entirely different lifestyle than the soft-pretzel village life of Kriftel.
Netherlands or Always-lands???
I took a ten minute train over to the city of Haarlem, which is exactly like Amsterdam, except just a few meters shorter and vastly more preserved, as it faced less attacks during WWII. Many of the original Cathedrals still stand with preserved stained glass, which is sadly not the case for most of the gorgeous churches of Amsterdam.
Cathedral of St. Bavo, main church in center of Haarlem
Among the passing bikes and running waters, I was able to grab a bite to eat with my Northwestern friend and the current assistant director of “The Crossing,” Kevin Vondrak. We shared two pizzas at a table next to the composer of Aniara, which was the performance I would see by “The Crossing” later that evening. I was also delighted to get a visit by Donald Nally and catch him up on my studies of Baha’i choral music.
Kevin bought me dinner, so we love him
Three choristers in the streets of Haarlem
The performance itself was SUBLIME. I have never heard “The Crossing” live, but I tell you, there was surely some of my own spiritual crossing over during this performance. Nally takes more of a “straight-tone” approach to choral performance, which is common for early music and contemporary choral ensembles; Nally instructs the Bienen Contemporary/Early Vocal Ensemble (BCE), the choir that I am a part of at NU, to sing with less vibrato, in this “straigh-tone” performance practice.
This style of vocal production allows for less interruption or variation in the pitch’s frequency and therefore the harmony of each chord is more easily heard and more overtones are produced, which gives the sound aesthetic a different (and arguably better) color and depth. Straightone choral singing also allows for an easier, more consistent unification of voices, which gives the artistic expression of “one voice alone.” Such a performance practice fits nicely with sacred music of the Renaissance and Baroque, which often had homophonic chants, hymns, and chorales. In terms of reception, the text of the choral song is easier to hear when the choir sings without vibrato, and in sacred spaces, the textual content of the song is often of great importance to achieve the didactic goals of the music. Nonetheless, with the rise of bel canto, the Italian vocal pedagogy for operatic singing beginning in the late 18th century, choral singing shifted to feature more vibrato, which turned the artistic expression of the choir to “many voices together.”. From this shift, Late Classical and Romantic composers like Beethoven for example, embraced the artistic possibilities of larger and less unified aesthetic of choral singing and produced works like the 9th Symphony, which evokes imagery of a collection of individual voices through the bel canto-inspired choral affect. This form can have vastly different rhetoric from the single-voice sound of sacred choirs, and in the case of the 9th Symphony, is used to aesthetically symbolize the diverse brotherhood coming together to witness something divine. This difference between forms and affects has been explored by Van Gilmer at the 13th Annual Baha’i Choral Festival, to heighten the amount of sonic diversity of the program.
Donald Nally (the conductor), the librettist, a mediator and the composer at a Pre-Performance Q&A
Aniara was a wonderful work of choral performance art. The stage was set on the floor in a rectangular space with the audience facing in on two aisles on both long edges of the stage, facing inward. The performers moved in and out for about 90 minutes, with textures changing almost every thirty seconds: the entire ensemble would sing homophonically one moment, and the next, there would be a polyphonic quartet of singers, and so on. With planned movement around the stage, it was interesting to experience the sound dynamics based on which singers were close and which were father from my seat.
This spacial set up made me think a lot about space in Baha’i choral performances as well; even noting the difference between the spacial practices of the North American Baha’i Temple choir–singing from the hidden, 2nd-floor choir loft–and the European Baha’i Temple choir–singing in front of the devotional attendees–there could be an interesting difference in the attendee reception of devotional music based on the spacial placement of the choir.
I hurriedly left the performance, only to–my deepest tragedy–miss my FlixBus back! And no customer service number to call! Nothing! I was Cosette, sweeping and weeping! But I decided to pick my sweaty bones up, grab a heaping plate of fries, and eventually hop on a train back to the safe cobblestoned roads of Kriftel. If I have learned anything from my brief sojourn in the Netherlands, it is that I deeply miss singing with Donald Nally, I need to give myself at least an hour of buffer time with schedule transportation, and I will NEVER take a FlixBus again (though this is likely a lie… they’re so cheap!)
Ciao!
Chris
Bahá’í Moment No. 1: Oneness
Hallo Freunde!
I wanted to introduce a new segment to my blog, which I will delightfully call “Bahá’í moments.” In such blog posts, I hope to hone in on general aspects of Baha’i teachings, and explore how those ideas are exercised in the lived experiences of the community that I am visiting. One of the challenging aspects of my research project is that I am trying to best understand these general aspects of Bahá’í life alongside my specific studies of the music. I predict the greatest appreciation of the musical culture will come about with an accurate understanding of what life and faith means to Bahá’ís. As with all research in the Academic Study of Religion, there is great danger in generalizations, as no two practitioners will have identical understandings of the faith, and this is where religious stereotyping and xenophobia often arises. All people, regardless of religious background, can be thought of as a balanced expression of their innate biologies and constructed cultures within a moment in time. Moreover, a 19th century, European Jewish woman may conceive and act upon life in a vastly different way than a 21st century Indian, Bahá’í boy due to a culmination of their respective internal and external experiences. These blog posts are not looking to evaluate any religious practices against my own conception of religion or to prescribe a necessary way of Bahá’í life. Rather, I hope to document my gradual understanding of the faith, as it is exposed to me in my interaction with each community and through studies on Baha’i teachings. So without further ado, here is the first “Bahá’í Moment.”
Oneness:
As appropriate for the #1 Bahá’í moment, I wanted to discuss what I have found to be a central idea of Bahá’í teachings: oneness. This theme manifests itself as the oneness of God in Bahá’í belief and the oneness of humanity in the practical goals of the Bahá’í movement. Generally speaking, the Bahá’í faith can be categorized as a monotheistic belief system (believing in a single God, one ultimate source of Divinity); the founder of the faith, Bahá’u’lláh, saw great unity between the Holy scriptures of the major world religions: Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Zoroastrianism, Christianity, Islam. He viewed the leading prophet figures from each religion (Krishna, Buddha, Elijah, Zoroaster, Jesus, Muhammad, etc.) as different manifestations of the same eternal Divinity, explaining that the evolving humanity needed new teachers at different times of great worldly chaos, hatred, and injustice. One of Bahá’u’lláh’s quotes engraved on the North American Bahá’í Continental House of Worship is “All the prophets of God proclaim the same faith.” This outlines the fundamental Bahá’í belief of Progressive Revelation, this cyclical manifestation of Divinity in different sacred figures throughout the course of human history. Given this notion, all peoples are essentially practicing the same religion and therefore praising the same Divinity. This suggests an inevitability for the unification of humanity: “The earth is but one country and mankind its citizens,” and consequently, Bahá’í teachings tend to promote equal treatment of all people regardless of race, ethnicity, sex, social status and religious background. Bahá’u’lláh’s philosophy encourages practitioners to actively work toward world peace and global concordance, which have been exercised on the larger, institutional dimension, such as the Bahá’í World Congresses in 1963 and 1992, on the local community dimension, such as the Bahá’í Sommerfest in Langenhain, and on the individual practitioner dimension, such as the suggested year of service for Bahá’í youth.
From what I have observed, there are strong emphasises on both community and individuality within Bahá’í practice. Religious hierarchy is largely reduced, if not completely disregarded; there is no Bahá’í equivalent of the Pope or the Dalai Lama or even a structural system of priests, rabbis, shaman, for example. This accents the importance of individual commitment to the fulfillment of worldly oneness. Nonetheless, seeing as the organization of community often requires at least some leadership to be taken, Bahá’í institutions, such as the Universal House of Justice, National Spiritual Assemblies (NSA), and Local Spiritual Assemblies (LSA) exist to create platforms for Bahá’ís to come together. If one were to regard the peaceful formation of a diverse community as a fulfillment of Bahá’u’lláh’s writings, the weekly devotional meetings in a community member’s house, Ruhi study circles at Baha’i community centers, or less formally organized time spent with one another becomes Baha’i worship itself. This past week, I have attended various Bahá’í community events in both Langenhain and Frankfurt: devotional meetings and study circles, which both featured delicious food and a warm environment. (I was even taken by a lovely group of Bahá’í youth in Frankfurt to an open-air pool, which was something like a low-key Water Country, after a devotional meeting. It was great fun and so interesting how this casual outdoor activity became a continued exercise of worship through community!) At such events, all individuals are given equal opportunities to voice their opinions and contribute to the divine community atmosphere; for instance, in devotional meetings, each member has the opportunity to recite a passage of Holy scripture of his or her choice. Bahá’í teachings empower the oneness of the individual to witness the oneness of humanity, and eventually work toward the oneness of the world. I hope to discuss at length how this aspect of Bahá’í teachings influences choral practices within Houses of Worship.
Schönen Tag noch,
Chris
Sources:
Baha’i Universal House of Justice. “The Faith of Baha’u’llah: A World Religion.” Haifa, Israel. 1 July 1947. https://www.bic.org/statements/faith-bahaullah-world-religion
Faizi, Gloria. The Baha’i Faith: An Introduction Baha’i Publishing Trust. New Delhi, India. 2003
Langenhain: Baha’i Sommerfest
From our lovely discovery of Frankfurt, the journey takes us west to the quaint, old farmer’s town of Kriftel. Unlike Chicago with its urban sprawl, the borders of Frankfurt are true to themselves, and where the city line is placed, the metropolis stops. This means just a few kilometers from the Frankfurt Hauptbanhof, you can find delightful German villages, blossoming with pink and red roses, unbroken cobblestone, and Ma-and-Pa restaurants with the most divine schnitzel.
Schnitzel from Zum Turmchen in Hofheim
The cheapest lodging I could find in my preparations was a single room in a villa-style house in Kriftel. Although it may not be the most convenient proximity for research at the Bahá’í Haus der Andacht (about two villages over), I have taken the opportunity to relax my lifestyle over the past week, take in the beautiful landscaping of every residence in this village, and master my pronunciation of the greeting “Hallo!” for when I pass the elderly couple that seems to always be picking at their garden.
Gardens on my walk to the Subway in Kriftel
I first appeared to the villa host (a lovely mother of four named Joan) as a genuine mess, my two bags extending off my sweaty body. And from there, I was whisked away by the S2 Subway to Hofheim, where I would somehow discover the 403 bus to take to me to Langenhain, the hometown of the European Continental Bahá’í Haus der Andacht (House of Worship). I remember passing through these small villages, signs everywhere directing cars to the local churches, or even displaying a Bible quote in German.
Sign in the center of Kriftel, John 14:6 “Jesus Christ: I am the way and the truth and the life.”
It wasn’t until the bus ascended to the peak of it’s route that a few signs began announcing the Bahá’í House of Worship. I exited the bus and walked about a few yards out of the residential part of Langenhain to what appeared to be vast farming fields and forests.
And, finally, there it was:
First sight of European Baha’i Haus der Andacht
This lemon-press-looking, incredible, space-ship type, white building is placed in the far corner of a large grassy field. It was June 23, and the Bahá’í community had put on their 24th annual Sommerfest. The Sommerfest (summer festival) is a staple of German culture; it can be considered under the Volksfest (carnival) category, being a secular, celebratory gathering, although some German church parishes may host their own summer festivals. Similar to a Christkindlmarkt (Christmas market) or Oktoberfest (you all know what this is), a Sommerfest will feature various stands where community members can purchase food, such as bratwurst, fleischkäse, küchen, etc., partake in exciting activities, for example a bouncy house, slides, and swings, and spend time together under tents or in the kind, reemerging summer Sonne (Sun).
For two and a half decades now, the Langenhain Bahá’í community has been welcoming local Bahá’ís and non-Bahá’ís alike to the temple grounds for their own version of a sommerfest. I found this to be the coolest thing and incredibly pertinent to my own research on the incorporation of local culture into the global framework of a Bahá’í space! The Sommerfest trope–traditionally one of German folk culture–was reframed in a Bahá’í setting, and thus the Sommerfest’s community-building nature is used as an expressive tool of Bahá’í teachings on interpersonal unity and the divine joys of human consonance. Suddenly the secular becomes the sacred.
I was simply in awe; hundreds of people of all ages, races, and religious backgrounds were picnicking, making music, and laughing together under the sun, all with the Bahá’í Haus der Andacht in the background. Since then, I have found myself at two other Sommerfests around the area (I swear they are EVERYWHERE), so I can attest to the electric community energy that was unique to the Sommerfest at the Bahá’í Temple grounds.
Cake stand in Baha’i Sommerfest 2019
As if this was already not an incredible experience, I was fortunate enough to go to three devotional services in the Haus der Andacht that were scattered throughout the eight-hour duration of the Sommerfest and featured the “Stimmen Bahás,” a Bahá’í choral ensemble established in 2001. Ameli Dziemba, a skilled Bahá’í musician and founder of “Stimmen Bahás,” conducted a four-song repertoire that was repeated at each devotional service along with various sacred-word readings. It was explained to me that the “Stimmen Bahás” ensemble has 60 active singers from all around Germany or surrounding countries, and they meet a few times a year to rehearse and present choral devotionals during larger events, such as the Bahá’í Sommerfest. Only approximately twenty members of “Stimmen Bahás” were present to sing at the Sommerfest devotional services.
Both the choral selections and the readings were in various languages including Arabic, German, and French, which is one way that this specific House of Worship expresses multiculturalism and globalism. The music itself varied in styles from German folksong to choral jazz to church chorale, and with even a hark to Taize choral music. I will speak in greater depth of the songs themselves in a future post.
To cap off my kick-off event for my journey of Bahá’í music research, Ameli Dzeimba was gracious enough to sit down for a long conversation with me under the blazing sun. I got to hear more about her journeys with music and the Bahá’í faith and the moments in her life when the two paths intersected, if not converged. I find this conversion so fascinating, specifically when the religious component emphasizes oneness and human consonance, like Bahá’í. The divine experience of harmonizing with one another, both literally and through the metaphor of music. This is so incredible: the creation of choral music is Bahá’í in nature, and Bahá’í teachings are–in a way–very choral in nature. I am hopeful that this coming summer will allow us to explore this wonderful conversion of music and faith, as it manifests in different Bahá’í communities around the world.
Until next time,
Chris
Frankfurt: On a one-way ticket to Divers-city
Freundliche Welt,
Today marks the fifth day of my worldwide tour, and my young bones are already aching! 40 miles of walking, 5 miles of running, 6 laugenbrezel mit käse (cheese pretzels), endless kaffee, and an infinite curiosity for this corner of the world. I had the blessing of being able to meet up with my Northwestern friend, Samantha Baran, for my first day here which made the immediate transition very fun and the pre-circumnavigation jitters mostly calmed. Apparently everyone has lied to me my entire life, as Sam enlightened me to the fact that there are multiple “Frankfurts” in Germany, and thus this city is best called “Frankfurt am Main.” The suffix refers to Main river that passes through the city and connects it to many other German towns, including Offenbach am Main and Mainz. The city name refers to the Frank people that inhabited the area in around the 3rd century CE and the “ford,” which is a shallow section of a river that could be easily passed by foot or vehicle. So the city name itself associates this area of the world with travel, especially movement over water. The centrality of Frankfurt’s European geography along with its accessibility via the Main made Frankfurt a focal point in the history of the Holy Roman Empire, as well as a site of abundant commercial trade. It seems at times there are as many churches in town as there are major, international banks. The Global Cities and World Research Network has identified Frankfurt as an “Alpha world city,” being a commercial global hub and a center of immense cultural diversity. And, people, they are not wrong!
I have spent the past few days racking up my steps trying to take in this (at first somewhat confusing, but nonetheless) vibrant city. Before even flying across the Atlantic, I can distinctly remember the airplane attendant reading the names of some travelers who needed to check in; the poor woman, was obviously struggling to pronounce these names of travelers coming from different parts of the world: a Japanese family, an Arabic man, a couple from India. I would later learn that the Frankfurt airport is one of the busiest in the world and over half of Frankfurt’s population is immigrants, which would explain the cultural diversity within my flight alone. After the disembarkation and upon exiting the Hauptbahnhof (the Central Train Station) I was greeted by Kaiserstrasse, which is a walkable street that seems to endlessly stretch with restaurants: a Mexican grill, a burger joint, a Chinese market, a pizzeria, a falafel stand, etc. I was pretty shocked, yet so interested to see so many different food cultures standing right next to one another, with tourists and Frankfurters all passing through. Just the other night, I had dinner with a few locals, and one woman expressed her love for the city, saying “It’s like you could eat in a different country every night,” as we shared a delish Turkish döner sandwich with ayran, a salty yogurt drink (apparently I’ll get used to the taste!).
The city’s architecture is also remarkably unique in its eclectic and multicultural expressions. At times, I’ve looked out at the skyline and the city looks mistakable for an American metropolis. Other times, in the Altstadt (Oldtown), for example, there is a quiet, yet overwhelming pulse history. There are moments when I walked along the Main and a church steeple would appear to stand at level with the corporate high-rises. There are also some wonderful instances in the architecture, where the reconstructed Gothic facades of the of the Römer houses are decorated with more “Eastern” ornaments, such as the golden dragons on the Stadthaus am Markt.
This city is unapologetically decorated in its multiculturalism, and I am loving it! Given its central geography, its uniquely diverse character and its strong connection to religious history, it is no wonder that Frankfurt was selected in the mid-20th century to be the home of the European Mashriqu’l-Adhkar (Baha’i House of Worship, literally translating to “The Dawning place of the Remembrance of God”). But more on that later!
Guten tag!
Chris
Essay No. 1: Experienced Diversity in the 13th Annual Baha’i Choral Festival of North America
“Intone, O My servant, the verses of God that have been received by thee, as intoned by them who have drawn nigh unto Him, that the sweetness of thy melody may kindle thine own soul, and attract the hearts of all men….”
-Baha’u’llah
A few weeks ago, I had the distinct honor of participating in the Baha’i Choral Music Festival of North America. This was the thirteenth iteration of this event, in which singers have been gathering in the Chicagoland area to worship together through choral music. While the majority of the 160 singers were American Baha’is, the festival had participation from singers outside the United States and outside the Baha’i faith. The 2019 festival began on the afternoon of Thursday, May 23 and the final devotional concerts were on Sunday, May 26. In the days leading up to the devotional concerts, the diverse community of festival participants rehearsed twelve choral songs, shared in Baha’i devotions, and discussed pertinent Baha’i topics, such as racial unity. Van Gilmer, the choral conductor and festival director, organized a varied program for the devotional concert featuring songs from the Baroque, Romantic, American folk, and contemporary Baha’i choral styles. Gilmer also included a few compositions of his own on the concert program which pertain to the Baha’i Gospel style, a subset of Baha’i choral music of which Gilmer has been pioneering over the past three decades. While the festival’s schedule and structure may have been oriented toward the final “performances,” many participants noted the spiritual significance in the rehearsal process itself, where the coming together of diverse voices became an expression of the oneness that is at the core of Baha’i teachings.
Unlike other choral festivals that I have participated in, each segment of rehearsal began with a devotional presentation of Baha’i-related writings, such as the words of Baha’u’llah or ‘Abdu’l-Baha, Biblical excerpts, Native American prayers, etc. These were done by various members of the choral festival and each member brought his or her own unique styling to the presentation of Baha’i teachings. For example, some devotions were read in the participant’s native, non-English language, some devotions were sung or chanted, and some devotions were recited with multiple participants at once. In one of my favorite devotions, three participants sang “My name is Abdu’l-Baha,” which is an three-part vocal song that harked to the musical stylings of contemporary R&B from late 20th century American popular music. The pre-rehearsal devotions gave an equal opportunity for voices of all backgrounds to be heard and gave the festival members a chance to witness the diversity of the group, as unified through the formal structure of Baha’i teachings. These devotions often set an intention to the following rehearsal by providing a thematic frame through which the music could be experienced, for example global unity and justice. Similarly, Gilmer would often take time out of musical practice to relate a song’s lyrics to social issues or would feature discussions on American injustice during a meal break. With this, the festival itself contributed to the Baha’i movement toward human equality, as it presented a platform for productive multiracial conversations on the often taboo topic of social injustice. This is one explanation for why the rehearsal process itself carried much spiritual significance for the participants, as approaching the choral music with a Baha’i intentionality transformed the rehearsals into an exercise of worship and a lived experience of Baha’i teachings.
The devotional concerts occurred during the standard devotional times for the North American Continental Baha’i House of Worship (9:30 am and 12:30 pm). The Baha’i Choral Festival Choir sung in front of the attendees on the ground floor; every other Sunday, however, the Baha’i Temple Choir, a choral ensemble of about twenty singers from the area, sings from a “mezzanine-level” choir loft which has a wall that blocks the attendees of the devotional service from seeing the choir. According to Gilmer, the visual blocking of the Temple Choir exists to deemphasize the ritual and performative aspects of devotional music and turn the focus toward the meditative experience of the service’s attendees. While having the Festival Choir positioned on the ground floor may have been due to the limited space of the choir loft, Gilmer noted the importance of the visual element of our music making. By putting the 160-singer choir center stage, the attendees would witness Baha’i teachings on global unity both symbolically and literally, as people of various races, nationalities, ages, genders, and hair colors were singing together in harmony. The devotional concerts not only metaphorically conveyed the pleasures and powers of diverse concordance, but they embodyed Baha’i teachings of divinity through community.
The program of choral music itself was greatly varied in style, giving participants and audience members a diversity in the physical experience of the music. Gilmer actively chose music with a wide range of styles, tempi, layerings, and cultural origins to create auditory diversity throughout the devotional concerts. For the singers, rehearsing and performing European Baroque music, such as “Worthy is the Lamb” from Handel’s Messiah, required a much lighter and more agile vocal technique than that of the African American spiritual music, such as Dawson’s “Soon Ah Will Be Done.” Similarly, given the compositional traditions unique to each genre of music, the audience could experience this diverse program of songs in various physical ways. For instance, the Baroque music may lead an audience member to a more acute auditory attention to the independent vocal lines, whereas the African-American Spiritual style, with its powerful cadences, may be experienced more viscerally, as the vibrations seem to physically shake the performance atmosphere. The engaging physical experiences of the concert’s program reflected Baha’i practices of witnessing global diversity, and the intermittent devotional readings united the program’s experiential diversity within a Baha’i frame.
Gilmer furthered the experience of diversity for both singers and attendees through his selection of soloists in the devotional concerts; with soloists of different races, language backgrounds, and styles of vocal training, Gilmer created a another platform to convey the choir’s diversity, this time through the individual voice. An attendee listening to the multiracial, soulful duet of Adrienne Ewing-Roush and Emily Taub, the beautifully sung Spanish of Tommy Kavelin, and my younger, classically trained voice may experience a variety of individual sounds, which expresses the variety of individuals that came together for the festival. This aspect of the devotional concerts, similar to the individual devotional readings during festival rehearsals, aligns with the Baha’i cultural attitudes toward individual celebration within diverse communities and resists cultural homogeny. Gilmer interestingly decided to omit solo singing from the rehearsal process, only having solo singers emerge during the last rehearsal and the devotional concerts themselves. This choice added to the choral singers’ devotional experiences, as they could experience the novelty of the varied solo voices with the attendees.
With music that was not originally written for Baha’i Houses of Worship, Gilmer reshaped the compositions to fit these songs into the Baha’i atmosphere for the devotional concert. For example, both Handel’s “Worthy is the Lamb” and Brahms’ “How Lovely is Thy Dwelling Place” had their orchestral accompaniment removed so that these songs would abide by House of Worship sound regulations that only permit the sound of the human voice. Similarly, Gilmer changed the lyrics in Dawson’s “Soon Ah Will Be Done,” which was originally written for an African-American Christian community, so that it would feature many Baha’i-recognized divine manifestations and not just Jesus. Gilmer’s changing and reframing of traditionally Christian music expresses the Baha’i teaching of progressive revelation, as the Baha’i presentation of these songs makes their musical divinity universal and transcendent of their Christian contexts. Continuing, with original compositions in the Baha’i Gospel style, such as “Justice,” Gilmer expresses Baha’i teachings by musically setting Baha’i texts to a compositional style that is characteristic of 19th century African-American slave communities. Combining this musical revival of America’s history of grotesque racial inequality with Baha’i texts, Gilmer implies the universality of human suffering and the global responsibility to work toward racial justice. On his concert program, Gilmer repurposed Christian musical compositions and styles in a new Baha’i context to be expressive of cyclical manifestation and Baha’i teachings on racial inequality.
Gilmer’s also chose to include contemporary choral songs with Baha’i-related texts, such as Wolcott’s “Blessed is the Spot,” Atkins’ “Greater is God,” and M. Levine’s “Refresh and Gladden my Spirit.” Compared to the “Art music” songs from the Baroque and Romantic choral canons, these originally Baha’i selections tended to be homophonic (with harmonized voices moving rhythmically together) and the vocal lines tended to be stepwise. The relative simplicity of this music gave the singers more liberty of vocal technique without the fearful tension of singing a complex vocal line incorrectly or a prescribed performance practice of “lighter singing.” This technical freedom in vocal production allowed for a more “authentic” sound from each individual singer, which emphasized each singer’s individual connection to the vocalized Baha’i texts, while also heightening the vocal diversity in the collective choral sound. The act of singing these Baha’i-inspired choral songs, given their compositional style, became an expression of Baha’i teachings on spiritual connectedness and oneness of a diverse globe of people. An audience member, seeing this choir of visually diverse singers and hearing the unified sound of many different voices, would have experienced the effect of diverse concordance through both sight and sound.
Academic assessment aside, the four days of the 13th Annual Baha’i Choral Music Festival were easily some of the most meaningful days of my time in the Chicagoland area. I am grateful for the degree of hospitality that many festival participants showed me, even from the moment I (quite nervously) walked into the rehearsal room. Mr. Van Gilmer was generous in creating platforms for me to grow into this community, including making me the assistant tenor section leader, assigning me a solo on his premier composition of “Justice,” and allowing me to speak about my upcoming research trip to the entire festival choir. I was overjoyed to meet and speak with many fellow choristers and take in a beautiful variety of perspectives from this blossoming musical and spiritual culture. And while some chords may not have been perfectly tuned and some starting pitches may have been somewhat confused, the experience of oneness–that chilling rush that could only come from the consonance of diverse voices–was undeniable.
Welcome to my Circumnavigator’s Blog
Kind World,
I would like to cordially welcome you all to my blog, tracking my Circumnavigator’s trip during the coming summer 2019. As you can read in the “About” section in the corner of the lovely cover photo of the Australian Baha’i Choral Festival, I have been afforded a once-in-a-lifetime experience… to travel around the world in 90 days. During this trek, I will visit six countries and pass every meridian, collecting insights on Baha’i choral music at various Continental Baha’i Houses of Worship. I will be using this site to keep you updated on my observations, the collected data, and–of course–every travel mishap and joy along the way. If you scroll down you will find a research project I worked on during summer 2018, comparing Early Christian narratives of the Virgin Mary with obstetric texts from Mediterranean Antiquity. And while I’m sure you would all be enchanted to read my analyses on the immaculate conception, we are all on to broader things and bigger places; I am thrilled that you will be joining me on my journey around the world.
The Actual Courses are Good (So I Have That At Least)
You don’t begin to realize the depth of how many preconceived notions you have until you begin to question what someone’s voice is going to sound like. Back in the States, I already know most of the dialects and potential accents of my country. I know the twang of a Spanish speaker as intimately as I know the nasal lilt of someone who comes from East Asia. Further still, I know how those sounds are different from the intonations of Hebrew speakers, or a descendant of a family of Western European immigrants.
All of that is utterly useless here in Paris. Citizens here are truly global, and Sciences Po’s students even more so. In my classes, French students are sometimes few and far between, especially when the course is administered in English. The moment a person begins to speak, it’s often jarringly different from my expectations. I might think someone is American, but when they open their mouth they say they’re from Beijing. I might think someone is Chinese, but when they speak, the twangs of a New Zealander come out. I may think someone is French, or even Spanish, but then they reveal they’re actually from Brazil or Quebec. Maybe for the first time in my life, I understand a little better why people all over the world try so hard to find out my ethnic background. When you have no grasp on a person’s origins, when you have no information, life is disorienting.
It’s also a bit frustrating that in a French university I’m still speaking English about two-thirds of the time. I split my courses half and half in French and English and I almost wish I would have favored more French courses. French is in the “back pocket” of most students’ spoken languages here, but it’s not necessarily always reached for first. English has become ubiquitous. It’s made me consider that perhaps I reap stranger and stranger fruit with every trip out of the United States, but I don’t regret my decision to leave. I accidentally skipped the coldest winter in Chicago history and left a country in the middle of a government shutdown.
For whatever else I might say about Parisian snobbery, I can’t deny, either, that I think I’m having one of the most intellectually enriching moments of my college experience. I feel motivated about my courses, and this has increased my productivity when it comes to readings. However, I’m also experiencing an integration of materials, readings, and authors in my courses that I haven’t gotten before. Three of my courses are overlapping each other in subject matter. I have Sociology of Work, Sociology of Organizations, and Surveillance Studies. These three courses take different approaches to examining the intersections of organizational structure, work modalities, and the effects of those on the human psyche. It’s become almost like an orchestra of different discussions that are all interconnected. My other courses aren’t as well related, but they’re equally as interesting in their own rights. So, even when I’m down about Paris, or further developing my French language skills, I can rest comfortable that my studies (the reason I’m here, after all) have at least worked out alright.
The real #tea on going to school in a different country
So I’m, what, 18 days into my life here in Paris?

Just finished my first week of class.
The illustrious Shirin Vossoughi (prof at NU) once told me that part of the reason why she thinks that babies sleep so much is because they’re learning everything for the first time.
I’m hoping that she’s right and that it will explain why I already feel exhausted.
Broad reassurance here for you: I don’t hate France, or Paris. I have already had some terrible experiences here, but I have, in equal measure, had some lovely ones.
It can all just be very overwhelming.
Here’s some of the bad and then I’ll write about the good:
A couple days after I got here, a guy tried to steal my shopping bag while I was walking home. I had bought mouthwash and toothpaste on the way back to my apartment. Thankfully, he wasn’t violent and ran away once I started resisting. I filed a police report. The experience just left me with an emotional burden to deal with, so I’ve put the process in motion to see a therapist while here in France.
I also found out that the French consulate in DC in the US didn’t give me the visa I needed in order to be able to work. I can’t receive any social benefits while here in France, nor can I change my visa at all if I decide that I would like to stay here longer.
One of my French professors said the n-word in class. It was in an academic context, but it was jarring, and not even really necessary for the class. I’ve been brainstorming how to bring it up at the end of the next class.
On a much more personal note, someone I was seeing while in Chicago, who actually was a French exchange student, decided that they just wanted to be friends, and I had to deal with the emotional fallout from that.
All of this is to say, my transition to Paris hasn’t been the smoothest it could have been, and I don’t want to hide how messy life can be when you do study abroad.
But what has made it worth it to be here has been the incredible friends and mentors I have who are cheering me on. All of the friends, family, and loved ones who are continually checking in with me and making sure that I feel loved and supported while here in Paris make even the more painful experiences feel less impactful. My roommate recently surprised me with a pastry as a way to usher in my two week anniversary of arriving in this city. Her small thoughtfulness reminds me that as hard as it is to transition into a new place, I don’t have to feel alone.
So here’s some more things that have been lovely to experience here in Paris:
The Louvre is so beautiful that it made me cry. All the museums are free with my student ID and when I went to the Louvre I was so overwhelmed with all the incredible art that I teared up.
The pastries here are incredible. You don’t realize how poorly dessert is made in the US until you come to France and have your first pain au chocolat. It’s something else.
The. metro. is. amazing. Have you ever sat in the cold waiting for the L train, silently cursing public transportation? Well look no further than Paris, because the trains come every 2 and 5 minutes. It’s. So. Nice. I’m getting spoiled. In the same vein, traveling is much less expensive. There are cheap thirty euro buses to Italy and Germany whenever I feel like going. It’s easy to understand how people backpack around Europe.
My classes, besides that incident with one of my professors, have been really fascinating. I don’t feel any intellectual burn out like I sometimes do back at Northwestern. It’s been lovely to take classes here on a variety of topics like biodiversity, the history of homosexuality, and sociology. It makes me excited to learn, and that’s a feeling I’ve been missing a little bit of back in the States.
Hello Paris AKA Trying not to Break Anything (Most of All Myself)
I’m going to call this the 24 hour anniversary of my arrival in Paris.
I landed yesterday at 5 in the morning. After waiting in line to go through customs, grabbing my luggage and getting in an Uber, the first thing I really noticed about Paris was that even at 7 in the morning, the sun still hadn’t risen, nor was the sky lightening with any pre-dawn sunlight.
It kinda weirded me out, and it’s this detail I remember most as I write this blog post now (because it’s almost 7 in the morning and looks like the pitch-black orange of 3am back home, when all the best writing gets done).
So, I guess I should take a moment to back everything up and explain myself. Like, why am I writing this post? Am I going to tie up loose ends from old posts? What does Paris have to do with anything?
My Undergraduate Language Grant was always meant to better prepare me for my study abroad (which Paris is) and I’m writing this because while it may no longer be strictly Office of Undergraduate Research money putting me on a different continent this time, it’s nice to have a little follow-up to see that, yes, these crazy projects we take part in do lead somewhere.
(Plus, I didn’t want to start a whole new blog elsewhere, and blogging at this point is practically obligatory. Otherwise, how would I satisfy my crazed-millennial desires to divulge details about my life into the void of the internet?)
As for tying up loose-ends from old posts…
Let’s just say writing is hard and I make no promises.
But before I go: Here’s a list of the crazy goings-on in the world, so that you have a frame of reference for how arriving in Paris made me a puddle of anxiety the whole time.
- 1. My flight was scheduled for the day when all TSA officers were scheduled to get their first paychecks of the year. This didn’t happen because of the government shutdown. I got to the airport 4+ hours before my flight because I didn’t know what was going to happen.
2. A month or two ago, the yellow vest protests began to happen in Paris. I kept my eye on the travel alerts because if France is moved to a level 3, Northwestern would have most likely cancelled all study abroad plans for France.
3. Yesterday there was a gas explosion in a bakery in the 9th arrondissement. It was a gas leak, but three people died and many more were injured. I was luckily nowhere near the blast, but it’s upsetting and eerie to have it happen on my first day in Paris.
4. The yellow vest protests turned violent today. A friend of mine went and was shot in the leg with a rubber bullet (thankfully, they’re okay). I stayed at my Airbnb all day, but I will think for a long time about my arrival here. When you’re a tourist in a new place, you have to find a balance between understanding what is happening where you are, staying safe, and also following your beliefs. If I had been in the U.S., I would have been at those protests, but I have to decide what my limitations are while I’m here. (And dying here is not an option, so I’d rather not aggravate my chances).
5. Did I mention we’re 13 days into a new year?
Happy 2019!
From an English Pub in a Filipino shopping mall:
Disclaimer: ‘Twas supposed to post this exactly week ago, but I didn’t. Oh well. Happy reading.
Just trying to keep things interesting here. Exactly two months in, folks! It’s day three in the Philippines—and I’m in love.
I’ve stuck with the mindset of “no expectations” throughout this trip. It’s prevented me losing morale when things don’t go as planned, freed me from worrying about what the next country will have in store, and so much more. That being said…I’m not going to lie. I had pretty high expectations for the Philippines—and my time thus far in country has far exceeded them.
Manila has been one of my “must visit cities” since I was pretty little. Everyone I’ve come in contact with throughout the last three days has been both incredibly helpful and kind. This has made what I thought to be an exhausting and draining last three weeks abroad seemingly painless. I am just so thrilled to be here.
Today was my first day with Ang Misyon, an organization founded in 2012 that aims to “promote and showcase the Philippines as a competitive and significant force on the global stage of Classical Performing Arts.” Ang Misyon does this by providing different pathways in the pursuit of excellence in Classical Music, striving to ignite social change and youth development primarily for underprivileged Filipino youth.
My Saturday was completely packed. I arrived at the regular Saturday rehearsal space at 8:30 this morning, and I didn’t wrap up my time there until nearly 6pm. My day, though, was likely the most inspiring of this trip yet.
Each Saturday, students in the Orchestra for Filipino Youth (OFY) and the Young Filipino’s Orchestra (YFO) travel from all across the Philippines—quite literally–for a day filled with rehearsal and fun. Nearly all the students commute at least an hour to come to the rehearsal space, and many two or three hours. I spoke with a teenage violinist this morning who hops on a boat at 5am each Saturday morning just to make the 10am downbeat for the string sectional. The students don’t mind, though. The soak up their day, taking advantage of every minute of rehearsal, sectionals, and time with friends.
Three interviews, three sectionals, and three rehearsals later, I write to you as I sip my craft brew from this English pub noted above. Throughout the next few days, I’ll be visiting another OFY rehearsal, in addition to several satellite organizations around the Philippines, also under Ang Misyon, through Sistema for Filipino Youth.
The pub manager just turned down the lights and cranked up the music in this joint, so I guess it’s time for me to wrap this up and get out of here. Thankful for:
- 1) A tasty beer—it’s been all too long.
- 2) The safe, secure feeling that hasn’t left me thus far in the Philippines—no place is completely safe. Whether I’m strolling through my small-town neighborhood or walking down Michigan Avenue, I know to always be aware of my surroundings. Naturally, though, throughout this whole travelling solo abroad thing, I’ve had to put up a huge guard in last two months. However, I feel much more at ease in my Metro Manila hotel, walking down the street, dining at local cafes, and roaming shopping malls. Don’t worry though, Meemaw—I’m still keeping my wallet close, my whistle closer, and my passport closest. 😉
- 3) The teachers in middle and high school that both inspired and encouraged me to pursue music—you all know who you are. There have been many times throughout the past three years at Northwestern that I’ve questioned the ways in which I want music and education to manifest themselves in my future. The last two months, though, have been quite a reaffirming time in both my current major and long-term career goals.