A Very Proud Papist

Of late the Catholic Church has been outrageous, and I love it. Firstly, at the ordination mass the Saturday before Pentecost I saw not only 4 arch-bishops and 3 monsignors, but at least 75 priests. On two different occasions the Catholic Church made the congregation sit and watch every single priest come by in a single file line and lay hands/hug the 3 newly ordained priests. What other church can rest on it's awesomeness to such a degree that it makes it's congregation sit through something like that? Most churches attempt to treat their congregation like kindergartners who's attention spans need to be worked within. And the mass of priests speaking together during the Liturgy of the Eucharist was (in very literal terms) to die for.

And secondly the readings of late (particularly the first readings) have been hilarious. I think Tobit is my new favorite book of the Bible. We get to hear from Tobit until Saturday! Here was today's first reading:

That same night I bathed, and went to sleep next to the wall of my courtyard. Because of the heat I left my face uncovered. I did not know there were birds perched on the wall above me, till their warm droppings settled in my eyes, causing cataracts. I went to see some doctors for a cure, but the more they anointed my eyes with various salves, the worse the cataracts became, until I could see no more. For four years I was deprived of eyesight, and all my kinsmen were grieved at my condition. Ahiqar, however, took care of me for two years, until he left for Elymais. At that time my wife Anna worked for hire at weaving cloth, the kind of work women do. When she sent back the goods to their owners, they would pay her. Late in winter she finished the cloth and sent it back to the owners. They paid her the full salary, and also gave her a young goat for the table. On entering my house the goat began to bleat. I called to my wife and said: "Where did this goat come from? Perhaps it was stolen! Give it back to its owners; we have no right to eat stolen food!" But she said to me, "It was given to me as a bonus over and above my wages." Yet I would not believe her, and told her to give it back to its owners. I became very angry with her over this. So she retorted: "Where are your charitable deeds now? Where are your virtuous acts? See! Your true character is finally showing itself!"

And all throughout Easter we heard from Acts. I smiled when the first reading consisted of: so and so went to such and such a place, and met with some people. He said some wise words, converted them, baptized them, and left for another town. What an uninspiring first reading! But the church doesn't need to have inspiring readings or captivating sermons. It has the Eucharist! I laughed after this reading from last Thursday:

The next day, wishing to determine the truth about why he was being accused by the Jews, he freed him and ordered the chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin to convene. Then he brought Paul down and made him stand before them.Paul was aware that some were Sadducees and some Pharisees, so he called out before the Sanhedrin, "My brothers, I am a Pharisee, the son of Pharisees; (I) am on trial for hope in the resurrection of the dead." When he said this, a dispute broke out between the Pharisees and Sadducees, and the group became divided. For the Sadducees say that there is no resurrection or angels or spirits, while the Pharisees acknowledge all three. A great uproar occurred, and some scribes belonging to the Pharisee party stood up and sharply argued, "We find nothing wrong with this man. Suppose a spirit or an angel has spoken to him?" The dispute was so serious that the commander, afraid that Paul would be torn to pieces by them, ordered his troops to go down and rescue him from their midst and take him into the compound. The following night the Lord stood by him and said, "Take courage. For just as you have borne witness to my cause in Jerusalem, so you must also bear witness in Rome."

Isn't the Holy Spirit great! In a tough jam? The Holy Spirit will find some utterly ridiculous way to get you out of it all!

I am a very proud papist these days.

Like and Love

When I was elementary school the question used to always be "do you love her", which was one step higher than liking her, which was one extremely minuscule step above coexisting with her. But for a Christian it's entirely different.

A nun once told me that you can love people before you even meet them by praying for them. You can pray for your future wife, your boss, and (especially pertinent for me right now) your roommate. What more loving thing is there than to pray for somebody? After loving the obscure person, you may one day meet them. Maybe they are a celebrity-sort that you will never meet. But if you meet, then coexisting becomes the second in the chain of affection. And then you may just like them.

In Kindergarten I coexisted with those who I knew, liked a handful, and "loved" even fewer, but as a Christian I can love everybody (even folks I don't know), coexist with a small portion of them, and actually like a handful of them.

Music Monday

This blog was once all about music, so here's to it's roots!

"September" - The Earth, Wind and Fire:


"Mountain Roads" - David Maslanka:

Me and the bari player used to be great friends. A girl got in between us, and we haven't spoken since.

"Prehensile Dream" - The Bad Plus

prehensile -

1.	adapted for seizing, grasping, or taking hold of something: a prehensile tail.

2.	able to perceive quickly; having keen mental grasp.

3.	greedy; grasping; avaricious.

Christian Salvation

"To little does any man love You, who loves something other than You, not on account of you"


“Love, and do what you like”


“In the evening of life, we will be judged on love alone.”

I wrote a nice academic post about accessibility in music, and how were doomed because the socialists killed Shostakovitch. I accidentally posted it at dooHicky, then promptly cut the text from there, hoping I could delete the post (which I can't) and put it up here. Well, it didn't work, so now all I have is this rather unsatisfying piece, a blank spot at dooHicky, and a dismal hope for American music. In less than a month I will have my "Liturgica Horarum" Vol. 2! Maybe I'll get over my frustration with the internet by then and tell you all about it. Because, of course, you care.

I wrote a dense post about love a few nights ago, but it was poorly written, so I ended up taking it down. In it's earlist forms I used a few facebook status' as evidence.

160 words of privacy destroying maddness

It seems that American's are all too willing to give away their rights these days, and the right to privacy is no difference. A British history teacher of mine said that privacy was one of his most privileged rights. Makes sense for Christians to say that: the saints give up "rights" all the time, but the one thing they cling to is privacy. The ability to silently pray and contemplate God are indispensable. The one thing Christian's can't deny themselves is God, but everything else is fair game.

Twitter has been popping up everywhere lately. I don't get it. Why would you embrace the idea of giving up your privacy? Of course it's normal to do that these days. I'm doing it right now, sharing thoughts that even 50 years ago wouldn't have the possibility to reach millions. Facebook and Myspace aren't much different than Twitter, but they do serve some beneficial purposes. But Twitter... what for? Why take the time to narrate your whole day to the world? Why would you want anybody knowing every thought that comes into your head? Even more, why does anybody care about everyone else? I don't doubt that they do, but it perplexes me.

More and more were entering an era where privacy is nearly impossible. Silence is on it's way out too. Even in mass it's something to be feared, as if simply the sounds of shuffling feet and "The body of Christ" would make praying the mass more difficult. The constant music doesn't facilitate praying the mass. People wake up to alarm radios, listen to music in the shower, watch the news while they eat breakfast, listen to the radio on the way to work, listen to the radio on the internet at work, listen to the radio on the way home, complain about their days at dinner, watch nightly news and go to bed. They can't even escape from the noise in a bathroom or elevator! Even when your in the middle of nowhere you have your ever convenient iPod to keep your ears filled.

Privacy is going to be no different. The masses will narrate every moment of their day on Twitter. You'll be able to update it on your phone. And when your not typing, you'll be reading what the rest of the world typed. It will be 160 characters of privacy destroying madness. People will forget how to be alone. They'll scare themselves. We already have self-check out lanes and online shopping. The man who lived on the top of a mountain who nobody ever saw was portrayed as frightning in movies, but now it's a reality, except we live in suburbs.

Supposing truth were a woman

"Supposing truth were a woman - what then?"
- Friedrich Nietzsche, Preface to "Beyond Good and Evil"

Before he even begins to discredit the last 2 or 3 centuries of philosophy as superstition he gives you an beautiful little maxim for pursuing truth. Court it like a woman! God's shameless. He inserts himself in every little thing. The devil's equally shameless, but not nearly as clever. God winks at you but the devil smiles.

Nietzsche was smart, whatever you say about him, unlike the stupid atheists out there who simply don't get it. You can either accept that there is a omniscient, omnipotent and eternal God who loves and desires his creation, or you can deny it. It's your prerogative, but once you make that choice you have to follow through with it. You have to realize that nothing temporal can make you eternally happy - atheists give up their ability to pursue eternal happiness. It's no different than geometry where if you deny Euclid's "superstitions" you get a whole different set of things. To say that one is better than the other you'd have to accept that all men desire happiness, and apparently that's a difficult jump for some cats. Well, he's German, so I'll have to get back to you after I read it twice more.

---

I feel bad for guys like St. Patrick and St. Valentine that have their feast days taken away from them. Happens to Jesus twice every year! It's not even Valentine's feast day anymore! Stupid world. Well, at least we know God really loves us: I can't think of any other reason he'd truly become man; the same man who strips him from everything they touch.

Obama

This didn't actually happen. But it so could have! Horrible nonsense called music and the "cultured" Barack Obama looks on intelligently. I'm being unfair, but I can just see the scene unfolding. Oh Obama... please avoid socialism.

Facebook Messages

Facebook can become more philosophical than you may think. I exclaimed to a friend, "jazz is dead!" recently (I was the salsa band I felt for a year ago), and he (lets call him, at random, Peter, since it seems like a fitting name) sent me this facebook message:

Nice job @ the dance; don't get too put out by the sheeple who can't dig it; you said that Jazz was dead. I nodded at the time, but it's not true. Jazz is alive, but not because of the musicians. Jazz is a sort of rebellion, from the mainstream, to a talented and beautiful music form. It can never die; it's always there. Sometimes it gets covered up, but it comes from an instinct that can't be muted for long. [besides, you got some extra dough, which is bombdigity, you rugcutter, you.]

I was responding too him (not that it required a response, but facebook is designed for unnecessary fake interaction, so much so that it's almost expected). It would have been unfortionate for the boared passer by or crazed stocker to read that there (not for his sake, but mine. Simply employing proper punctuation draws suspician on facebook... coherent thoughts might really break the levies) so I figured this would be a better venue.

Peter, Music relies on other people. That's where the problem is. On the most basic level this musician/people relationship is really a musician/consumer relationship. But that can easily be gotten around, as many starving musicians of far less inteligence than Peter have done. Music is something that seemingly is better than money to many. I'd agree, but then again I'd rather have The Imitation of Christ than a million dollars, or know how to pray the rosary than know how to make a billion dollars. That is to say I might not be in the majority, but lets move on. Musicians commonly rely on the listener just to feel welcomed or needed. I don't know of many musicians who put in their 10,000 hours to continue playing in their own room. Coffee shops are filled with musicians who want to be listened to. But music even rises above the desire for the assurance of others in some individuals. But even these individuals commonly rely on other musicians to play with. It's much more yes (adjectives like fun, awsome, or even exhilirating don't nearly cut it... yes, though it lacks description for the unknowing should be the right word for the knowing) to play with a group than alone. But then when your piano and bass player show up high you realize that it's not all it's cracked up to be.

Some cats (musicians) come to the realization that music can't make them happy. Music in itself can't make anybody happy: they only way there are truely happy musicians are those who are called by God to be a musician. There are happy janitors: how could you not be a happy janitor if you were doing your work to fulfil God's plan! It takes grace to be a happy musician. Musicians who do it against God's will are miserable. That's why music, drugs, sex and all other sorts of false pleasures (sin) are so often related. Shouldn't suprise us: what do you do when your miserable? You either pray to God and put your happiness in him, or you try to do it all yourself by false means of happiness.

Musicians can't be too smart. I hope there aren't too many musicians reading this. There is another kid at our school, we'll call him Jack, since that is also a random yet fitting name for him. Jack wants to be a musician, and could (he'd have to take it all a bit more seriously, but he's one of those kids who naturally desires seriousness in anything he does) but he's too smart. One day he'll realize it's all fleeting and do something else. He's too smart to be a musician. He'll be able to pursue that path as long as it's benifitial to him, then God will make it miserable to him and he'll still push on thinking he has an obligation to music, but the moment he realizes his obligation is to God he will have to drop it all. He's only able to push out the miserableness because God isn't pouring it down on him (he'll learn discipline and other things from music) and all the happiness music gives him is hiding up what miserableness is inherent in the whole buisness. I'd be laughing at this if I was reading it, since I'm in no uncertain terms saying what God's will is. I speak out of experience, but I wanted to give you the example of Jack, whom you could relate the freshness of enamored musicians to much easier than you could dig through my cynical crustiness and find what once was Jack.

That seemingly has nothing to do with jazz being dead, but it really does. You can't be a happy jazz musician anymore. Firstly the drugs that kept Charlie Parker (whom I think would have been an academic genius) going are gone; you end up in jail much quicker now adays and drug life is far less glamorous or easy than it was. Secondly the crowds are gone. It's exhilirating and assuring to play infront of a huge crowd, or even to have people dance while you play, but that doesn't happen anymore, as we both saw, so the musicians are left without that fleeting desire for others aproval (which really stems from self-love). So what can make the jazz musician happy anymore? Only the grace of God makes them happy. They have to be playing jazz to fulfil God's will.

I've long had a fantasy about becoming a Dominican monk and then starting a jazz group with my fellow brothers and bringing it to the local clubs. We'd play in our friar garb and be the hippest, God centered jazz musicians ever. But God wouldn't allow this if it wasn't right. The jazz would distract me from prayer, or self-mortification or somehow hinder the tools that perfect my soul daily, and I would realize it. My soul would yearn for God and if I tried to fulfill it with jazz music, a jazz that isn't in God, I would continue to yearn. Yearning of the soul makes you miserable.

So, in a longwinded roundabout way, that is (at least in my head-up-in-the-clouds way of looking at it) why jazz really is dead, or at least to us thinking members of society it is. Rather than brood we should think of how good God is! That he only lets us fulfill his will. Jazz is dead was the wrong phrase to use, because that implies a universality. Jazz is dead to me because I can't be happy playing it, which was magnified when God cut off that self-satisfaction of other appreciating what I do (all GLORY be to Him!). To the high musicians you saw on Saturday night, jazz might not be dead, but it's only living on the fleeting happiness that comes from rejection of the Good.

Yes

How cool is Jesus!

"A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic – on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg – or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and Him Lord and God."

- C.S. Lewis "Mere Christianity"


A surprising number of authors in Lewis' time used their initials: G.K. Chesterton, E.E. Cummings, T.S. Elliot, H.G. Wells... humans are a weird bunch.