In the July 25, 2006 edition of The Christian Century, Jason Byasse has written a very descriptive article on an exhibit of early artifacts of both Christian and Jewish origins.
"The Cradle of Christianity" is the name assigned to the exhibit in the Maltz Museum in Beachwood, a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio. The objects are on loan from the Israel Museum in Jerusalem.
The pieces of the exhibit are arranged in an ingenious setting that places the Jewish item beside a Christian item. For example, the lamps and bread stamps found in Jewish households are placed beside the lamps and bread stamps used in Christian homes.
The strongest examples are two screens probably used as chancel screens; they are of the same size, the same type of marble, and almost identical bas-relief designs.
In each panel is a wreath with curved vines. In the center of each wreath is a menorah in one of them and a cross in the other one. They are nearly identical.
Byasse asserts that they were probably made in the same shop by the same craftsman.
There are some ossuaries (containers of bones of the dead person) that bear the names of Jesus or Mary or Joseph. There is no evidence that these ossuaries were prepared for the remains of the Holy Family.
What it does show is the commonality of these names in the first centuries of the Common Era.
The most curious objects are six huge stone water jars from the first century, which could very well be like the ones that contained the water at the wedding feast of Cana, where Jesus worked his first public miracle.
Byasse comments that the large volume of the wine would have accommodated a very, very large crowd.
Not half as interesting or thought-provoking was the encounter I had with some antiquaria in one the classes I taught a few weeks ago at Santa Clara University.
One of the grad students wrote a comparison paper on the most popular hymnals in Roman Catholic worship.
Part of his study was the investigation of hymnals that preceded today’s worship aids. He even had extant hymnals from the middle part of the twentieth century.
One was the St. Gregory Hymnal of Nicola Montani. I nearly broke down in tears. Not because of his eloquent language, but because he was holding it in great reverence, showing the respect it deserved as an antique from a bygone church.
Gasp! That is one of the hymnals I used in my juvenile music ministry days in the mid-twentieth century.
Double gasp! I found myself speaking on its contents, some biographical information on its editor and compiler, Nicola Montani, and how it represented a concerted effort to improve the church music at its time.
Triple gasp! I was able to cite the titles of some of its contents complete with the composers’ names—without opening its pages.
What offered no solace was the NPM award of Pastoral Musician of the Year awarded me a couple of weeks ago at the Grand Rapids convention.
The little blurb that appeared in the promo brochure of the convention describing each event said the award commemorated my 51—yes, 51—years of music ministry.
Today, I wonder if someday my writings and rantings will be displayed beside other memorabilia of writings of Palestrina, Pope Gregory, David's harp, and Jubal's lyre.
Will a young grad student come to a display of pastoral musicians of yesteryear and be amazed with the output of these significant contributors to western liturgical music?
Is there a future young scholar somewhere in a university poking around the library stacks where copies of the Liber usualis are housed beside the masses of Haydn and Mozart?
Not too far away are there past issues of Pastoral Music and the GIA Quarterly waiting to be investigated for subject material for doctoral dissertations?
How soon will Montani and Moleck be relegated to "Antiquaria?"
