dona nobis pacem

Dona nobis pacem
September, 1992
Belén, Ecuador

An old chapel built into the side of a mountain in this Andean town located on the picturesque road leading to Cuenca caught our eyes when we stopped to take a rest on the long drive from Guayaquil. A beautiful stone-colored dome sat atop the main edifice; it was unlike the many very colonial structures we had seen in the city.

We entered, quietly, carefully, always as if our gringo steps were as awkward in such places as they were on the dance floors of the discoteques when surrounded by suave latino feet.

The altar was stunning in that the backdrop was literally the wall of the mountain; indeed, the church had been build into the mountain, as if a most natural extension of God’s creation, not an ostentatious display of Catholic riches and worldly gold held as an offering to a Supreme Being that is supposed to see beyond such superficial shows.

I snapped my fingers in a mere test of acoustic quality. The echo of this simple sound reverbrated throughout the hall. Three of the seven of us were musically trained, in voice as well, and our eyes met. I began the rondo:

Dona nobis pacem, pacem
Dona nobis pacem.

B took up a tenor line when the rondo came to him, then A followed suit with the final third of the trio. We knew instinctively what to sing, what to do, the perfection of the tones and the resolution that particular round offers blending together in an echo that spiraled, slid up the mountainside, found its way up to the top of the dome.

Noemí, our profesora/chaperone for this trip, sank into a pew in tears. The others sat, mesmerized by the beauty of our offering. We were certain we could be heard. This is the voice God would want to hear!

Dona nobis pacem

The first time singing this refrain was in a mass concert that featured the Vienna Choir Boys, that I was honored to be a part of when I was in late elementary school. That was also the first time I can remember ever having felt truly moved in my soul by music. Music like that could create peace, I was then convinced.

A great part of the lack of peace I feel in my life right now stems from the fact that I have no true music. I tried being involved in music at church, but my eyes were opened to a certain elitism that exists and to which those who participate are privy; namely, if what comes out of your mouth when you raise voice in honor to God is not worthy of God’s ears, then it is preferred that you shut your mouth and let the ones who know how to sing do it for you. I have let my violin’s bows go and they both are in desperate need of rehairing if I ever want to pick my beloved instrument up again. Time is hard to find, although easier now that I am working in the home. In my idealistic 20s, when I wanted to change the world and erase all ills, my purpose for playing or singing was much more outwardly focused than it is now. I feel that now I need music to assist me to feel the peace that I used to feel in my soul, to return to me an element of who I used to be and what took me so many places and permitted me to know and understand and learn on a level different than mere logic will take me.

Dona nobis pacem

Grant us peace. But I don’t need someone or something else to grant me this peace. I need to grant this to myself, to find my way and only in that way will I know true peace--of mind, of soul, of heart.

Dona nobis pacem. This was written for Blog Blast for Peace 2008. I am not savvy enough to come up with my own "seal" so I just use the one above. In my mind I sense peace when I look at that.

May you sense peace in your own way, in some way, today.