Stained-glass windows and fireworks

Church Windows; Brazilian Impressions; Roman Festivals; Ottorino Respighi, composer; Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra; Jesus Lopez-Cobos, conducting

I don’t know what made me come to the following realization, but the vividness and intensity of fireworks and the warm glow and brilliance of stained glass windows, for me, produce the same effect. The marriage of color and light, I suppose, sparkle easily on the mind’s inner easel, allowing the imagination to conjure up the type of magic that suspends hue, pigment and spectrum in time and space against the night’s dark sky, or the day’s bright sun.

I’ve seen fireworks at many different places. Walt Disney World has presented Illuminations at Epcot Center for years. In 1997 and 1998, I saw fireworks shot off over the Mississippi River from the deck of the Delta Queen and reflected in the mirror-like stainless steel of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, Missouri. I’ve seen the Capitol Fourth fireworks on the Mall in Washington, D.C. I saw excellent fireworks in Brookings, South Dakota, after an athletic polka to a rhythmically unstable, yet spirited, performance of “The Stars and Stripes Forever”. And I saw fireworks in Washington, D.C., from high atop the Freedom Forum building in Arlington, Virginia, the evening before President Clinton’s second inauguration.

The stained-glass windows at the Grace Lutheran Church in my hometown of Bruce, South Dakota, were probably the first of its kind to capture my attention. I may be the only worshipper there that ever noticed that all five windows in the sanctuary are exactly the same. The glass designer set various shapes of red, green, yellow and blue pieces of glass in such a way to make you think that placement was random. But it wasn’t. Still pretty, though.

When a friend heard that I would soon visit Paris, he sought me out. “Do you know where you need to go in Paris?” Eiffel Tower? “No.” The Louvre? “No.” Notre Dame? “No.” Sacre Coeur? “No.” Arch de Triomphe? “No.” The Champs Elysees? “No.” The Opera? “Nope.” The Musee d’Orsay? “Nope.” The Latin Quarter? “Would you be quiet, please?” Yes.

He told me to see the Sainte Chapelle. And he was right. Built by Louis IX in the 13^th century, it is comprised of two chapels: the lower chapel and the upper chapel. I didn’t know quite what to tell my friend when I entered the lower chapel. It was nice and all, but nothing to write home about. Then I went upstairs, and it was like climbing into a giant jewel box. The stained-glass windows towered over the inner expanse and went all the way to the ceiling. The proprietors claim that roughly two-thirds of the window structure is authentic. It’s the most beautiful stained-glass window work I’ve ever seen.

I don’t know where Ottorino Respighi saw his church windows, but if they are as beautiful as the music inspired by them, they are worthy to adorn the wall’s of God’s Cathedral in Heaven. This is some of my favorite music, ever. The soundtrack-type etchings that Mr. Respighi designed from these windows portray four specific scenes, resplendent in dazzling light and glorious color.

“The Flight into Egypt” is filled with action. “St. Michael Archangel” removes all doubt as to why conversations with visiting angels have to start with “Fear not.” “The Matins of St. Clare” are a solemn occasion indeed. And “St. Gregory the Great”, as the force behind Gregorian chant, is justified here in his title as patron saint of musicians. Music, light and color. This is grand stuff.

My sisters and I used to enjoy shooting off firecrackers and bottle rockets during the daylight hours leading up to the evening of the fourth of July. But we knew to wait with some of the more spectacular stuff until the backdrop of night. And Dad was out there with us, having just as much fun. Or more.

When do you like to see stained-glass windows? From inside during the day, with the light outside? Or from outside during the night, with the light inside?

Credits: To Brookings Fireworks. You got a lot of our allowance money. But it was beautiful. Loved the Roman candles!

This is the eighteenth of my final forty-five CD's.