For the fourth act, the conductor laid down His baton so that He could guide for this most important moment with both hands. –Matteo Penazzi

You have kept count of my tossings; 

    put my tears in your bottle.
    Are they not in your book?
This I know, that God is for me.
in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.
    What can man do to me?

I must perform my vows to you, O God;
    I will render thank offerings to You. 

For You have delivered my soul from death,
    yes, my feet from falling,
that I may walk before God
    in the light of life. Psalm 56

And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the Lord.  -Hosea 2:18-19

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. Matthew 6:34

The joy of God has gone through the poverty of the manger and the agony of the cross; that is why it is invincible, irrefutable. It does not deny the anguish, when it is there, but finds God in the midst of it, in fact precisely there; it does not deny grave sin but finds forgiveness precisely in this way; it looks death straight in the eye, but it finds life precisely within it. -Dietrich Bonheoffer

 Matteo and I went for an early morning walk in a thick coat of autumn fog. We came along an embankment built up high between the shorn fields. “This was the division between the American troops and the Italian troops during the war. Our grandfathers remember having to get up in the night and dig the trenches. But then they began bombing us from overhead, so it didn’t matter anymore.”

Now folks in sweat suits and new running shoes take a quick jog along the top before going into work.

And while time is not the instrument of healing, it does give perspective to the process.

And as we pray to be instruments of peace in a world full of exploded dreams and blasted hopes, my thoughts turn to that of the Master Conductor, the One Who Holds The World in His Hands.

Last night friends and family gathered in Ravenna to watch a master conductor, Riccardo Muti, lead a group of “young talents,” including Matteo Penazzi as a first violinist, into the veritable forest of the Guiseppe Verdi opera Aida.

And goggle.translate is of course a little shaky, but it does poetic justice to the role of the conductor: The role of the director, central to these courses, is constructed with a series of infinite precious indications that could even be transposed from the podium to any other command role. "You're released. Look at them. Have confidence in them. They are the ones who save you. Use a few words. Do not lose sight of them." 

And the job of the musician is to keep his eyes fixed on the conductor’s hands. He must not be distracted by the wobbly clarinet to his right, the trembling squeal to his left, or the pounding bass drum in the rear. His instrument is his only responsibility. Even when he is still, his focus is on the rhythm of the right hand and the flow of the left, the master’s hands, and His infinite precious indications.

Release.

He is trustworthy. Invincible.

So che Dio è per me.

Whom shall I fear?

No one.

Whom shall I judge?

No one.

And just for you, kind Matteo, yes. What shall I do?

I shall render thanks offerings for all of His gifts, especially the ones that sometimes I do not notice or appreciate like sweet pear preserves made after the harvest smeared onto homemade rolls, and paper towel napkins, and the stillness of a Monday afternoon in which to read Bonhoeffer. 

That I may walk before God
    in the light of life.

And be an instrument of peace.