The damage we do to ourselves.

I was speaking today to another one of my co-workers. I am fond of this man. He is a good worker, he is always willing to lend a helping hand to anyone should they need it, at work or out. His Persian flaw, however, is he's a real Casanova.

In our conversation he told me he was tired of his hook-up lifestyle, and was beginning to think he was ready to move on. (Actually, he also said this a few months ago as well, and then went out on another round of hook-ups.) He is beginning to think it is time for him to settle down, and start living a different life- perhaps even finding someone he could form a permanent relationship with and starting a family. For my part, I nodded at the appropriate parts and encouraged him as best I could, while at the same time I was thinking how very, very hard it would be for him.

There's at least two problems as far as I can see. The first is, he's trained himself how to meet women in bars and the like. It has dawned on him that one night stands aren't the most stable basis upon which to form a relationship. The other problem will be his own constant temptation.

You see, I've been married to Puff for fourteen going on fifteen years. In all that time I have never cheated on her, never tried to cheat on her, never really given it a serious thought. I can claim no virtue for this, no special grace. It was really quite easy for a simple reason: I was lousy at picking up women. I had no skill in that area whatsoever, I haven't picked up any new skills, and I have no desire to humiliate myself in that field ever again. Ergo, honesty. Maybe honesty for the wrong reasons, but honesty nonetheless.

My co-worker, on the other hand, possesses considerable skill and knowledge, and he can't erase that. If he finds someone he cares enough about and with whom he's willing to try and make a go of a family life, he will still have that knowledge in his mind. He will know he has options. If things go bad for a while in his relationship, the temptation for him to go to someone else will be that much stranger, because he knows how to find someone else. Of his own free will, he has put a block between himself and his desire for a stable life centred on a family. He has hurt himself in ways he never imagined, but is now starting to feel for the first time.

This is where sin leads us. Not only does it lead us from goodness, it places barriers between us and our hopes of returning to goodness, and honesty, and truth.

So I remember him as well in my prayers these days. I think by now I'm praying for about half my co-workers, which probably means I'm about half-way to where I should be.

Insert Ironic Joke Here

Although I try to avoid being negative, or making fun of people at their expense in this blog, every now and then something comes along that I just can't resist.

Like this headline from MSN:

Madonna is unable to sing.

This is news? The headline practically makes fun of itself. Anyone who wishes to pump some irony is free to do so in the combox.

Here's the deal

I went to one of my mother's euchre parties last night and I've come to a realisation: Euchre is an invention of the devil to tempt our souls into the sins of intemperate anger and uncharity. Which is another way of saying my cards stank all last night. That, and I somehow got stuck with the worst player there for partner four times out of eight games. To those of you who know and play the game: for starters, she asked me what was trump every single trick.

Neat Temperature conversion chart

The Official Canadian Temperature Conversion Chart

50º Fahrenheit (10 C)
Californians shiver uncontrollably. Canadians plant gardens.

35º Fahrenheit (1.6 C)
Italian cars won't start. Canadians drive with the windows down.

32º Fahrenheit (0 C)
American water freezes. Canadian water gets thicker.

0º Fahrenheit (-17.9 C)
New York City landlords finally turn on the heat. Canadians have the last
cookout of the season.

-60º Fahrenheit (-51 C)
Mount St.Helens freezes. Canadian Girl Guides sell cookies door-to-door.

-100º Fahrenheit (-73 C)
Santa Claus abandons the North Pole. Canadians
pull down their ear flaps.

-173º Fahrenheit (-114 C)
Ethyl alcohol freezes. Canadians get frustrated when they can't thaw the
beer keg.

-460º Fahrenheit (-273 C)
Absolute zero; all atomic motion stops. Canadians start saying "Cold, eh?"

-500º Fahrenheit (-295 C)
Hell freezes over. The Toronto Maple Leafs win the Stanley Cup.

So, my timing's off. What else is new?

Not exactly the first robin of spring.

The other day I was walking outside my home when something swooped past me and landed in a tree not ten feet from where I stood. It was one of these:

source: national geographic

A peregrine falcon. It is a beautiful, mean looking bird. As I watched it, struck by its fierce beauty, I thought, among other things, of a half remembered line from Blake's Tyger Tyger: "Did He who made the lamb make thee?" I also thought if I could catch it and sneak it out of the country, I could probably pay for my kids' tuition. But morality and the consideration that this bird's beak and talons were specially designed for ripping flesh off a bone made me keep my distance.

All winter there was a cardinal at my bird feeder. I haven't seen it lately. I think I've figured out why.

An Award.

Puff nominated this blog for the "Most-Likely-to-Antagonise-Both-the-ExtraOrdinary-Mass-Attending-Catholics-and-the-Ordinary-Mass-Attending-Catholics" Award over at Archangel's Pulpit. The Resident Archangel was kind enough to award the title to this blog.

Thank you all.

Pitiless truth and truthless pity

Louise over at Purcell's Chicken Voluntary has a good post based on a quotation from Chesterton. I quote:

Chesterton had an uncanny ability to see the big picture. He said that in a broken society, two things happen: the vices run wild and do great damage, but the virtues also run wild and do perhaps even greater damage "because they are isolated from each other and wandering alone."

Thus, there will be some who care only for truth and others who care only for pity. But with those on the one side, "their truth is pitiless," and those on the other side, "their pity is untruthful."

Good words, good to remember. I see the relevence of this almost everywhere I look, and the common thread to both sides is pride, pride in holding a truth which we do not possess, or pride in pushing pity beyond the truths we are given.

Do you ever think someone is laughing at our stupidity and arrogance?

From the News

Today one of the newspapers had a special section on 'earth hour', detailing ways to fill this powerless hour both around town and at home.

Now, while I am not averse to conservation, green living in general- personally I don't care if the lights or the tv or any of that stuff are on or off- and I share the concern of many bloggers about people who take eco-conservation too far. But the fact that a newspaper felt it important to explain to people how to spend one hour without electricity struck me as odd. Is this what it has come to? Are people so addicted to fluorescent tubes and electronic noise that they are lost without electricity for even an hour? We really are in trouble.

Lost Sheep redux

As I was leaving on Saturday morning, Elder said to me: "Why do you have to go?"

I answered: "Because the Bible commands it."

My efforts with the other co worker amounted to nothing (so far), and I believed at least part of the problem was that I gave him the information, and left everything up to him. I decided this time to take the co worker out personally, and at least show him around.

He brought along his girlfriend (who's a baptist) and I took them on a tour of some of the older Catholic churches in downtown Toronto, plus the Oratory. I explained to them what I could of the Catholic Church, but I spoke mainly to my strength, which is history, rather than theology. I showed them around several churches, told them of the symbolism of their layouts, and of the windows and statues and paintings. It all went rather well, except we couldn't get into St Paul's. I had wrongly assumed that St Paul's would be opened, as were most other churches I know, on Holy Saturday. But that actually worked a little in their favour: they want to go back to see the insides. So now they have a reason to return.

Unfortunately, it may be the wrong reason. This is a problem with which I have wrestled a long time, and will wrestle with still. If by grace of God I help him to return, I should help him to be a church goer, not a church critic. Mass done perfectly in a beautiful church is wondrous thing. Mass done well in an ugly church is still a wondrous thing. The Masses that stayed with my father the most were celebrated outdoors on the hood of a jeep. I am not speaking of liturgical abuse, but rather a slippery feeling that I see in some blogs, that going against the writer's sense of taste and style is an abuse.

The day as a whole went well. They really enjoyed themselves, and liked the history I could tell them. The girlfriend even suggested I have a future as a tour guide. A fine compliment, however, I don't foresee much Catholic tourism in Toronto at this time. At any rate, they want to go on another outing, see the places we missed first time around. More than that, they want to attend a Mass.

I should try and push him into his local church, but at the same time, it is permitted for any Catholic to attend any Catholic church. He can licitly attend any church in Toronto. He and his girlfriend want to attend a Latin OF Mass at the Oratory. Deo Gratias. Hopefully, the liturgy can work a transformation with them. On the other hand, Latin is a little tough to follow the first few times around, and they could probably do with some help. Rather than solely leave it up to them to go "someday", I will attempt to set another date with them and take them myself.

If anything more is required of me, I'll deal with it when it comes. I told him the other day, "I feel a bit like Morpheus. 'I can only show you the door. You're the one who has to walk through.'"

That's all I have for now. This seems to be going well, but so did the other one. They're interested, but interest can wane. So I'll end this post with what seems to be my new traditional ending: Prayer requests. On my own I am nothing and my efforts will fail, etc etc.

The Lost Sheep

It is Christ's command to His Church that all of us must do what we can to bring home those who are lost and have strayed from the Church. It is one of the most difficult and important tasks we are given. It is also one of the most humbling.

I was going to write about my experiences on Holy Saturday, leading the co-worker for whom I have been requesting prayers and his girlfriend around Toronto, showing them some of our churches. I believe he is searching for a way to come back, and I am trying, with God's help, to show him a way, or ways. But instead I will write about the first time I thought to help someone come back, and how the effort ended in failure.

I am the only practicing Catholic in the place where I work. Among the co-workers, the Church is something of a joke, particularly among the three lapsed Catholics. Of those three, two are almost perpetually stoned, and they gave up the Church for pot. They have no inclination to even try and come back. As I said, the Church is a source of amusement for them, and that amusement forms a powerful barrier around their hearts. I have found no way through. So, pray for them, and those like them.

The third lapsed Catholic has a sense of irony and contempt about him. He is a very educated man, comes from Germany, is married, has no children, wants none. He feels some respect for me because I am also an educated man, and therefore he feels I am someone to whom he may speak.

It began with a cd of the music of Thomas Tallis that came to our store. "What's this?" he said to me. "Who is this Tallis?"

I took the cd from his hand and saw to my delight it had Spem in Aleum on it. I explained to him a little about the music, and how Tallis had written an almost unique 40 part motet, and a little about the beauty of Renaissance polyphony. I kept the cd to purchase it, and thought no more of it.

The next day he greeted me from his desk as I walked in. "I never knew such music existed!" he said. "This must be what heaven sounds like." After hearing me say how wonderful the music was, he had bought another copy of the cd for himself. He was soon spending his spare time at work surfing the web for any information on Tallis, Renaissance Polyphony, and any other related topic.

Around that time, Benedict was elected Pope. By then he and I frequently discussed religion, and he was easing a little in his contempt for it. When Ratzinger was elected to the papacy he was at first appalled, for all he knew of the man was his reputation as the panzerkardinal. But as he saw the great Masses- first of the burial of John Paul and of Benedict's installation- he warmed up a little. The pageantry and the pomp and circumstance appealed to him greatly. He began to look into the writings of Cardinal Ratzinger, and his writings as Benedict XVI and he began to develop some respect for the man. "He would have made a wonderful professor," he told me more than once. That is perhaps his highest compliment.

I didn't push things, for I believed pushing things would not work with him. Baby steps, I told myself. Baby steps. The coworker began to reminisce about his days back in Germany as an altar boy. He missed the Latin language (he studies Latin to this day) and he loved the newfound polyphony, as well as the old chant. He wished he could hear it again, but he thought there was no where in Toronto to hear it. Here's where I really stepped in, because I knew where both the Latin and the music are done, and done well: the Oratory.

I laid out all the information before him. Where to go, when to go, how to get there- everything I could think of. But here the most powerful physical force in the universe was working against me: inertia. An object at rest stays at rest. Getting up and going to church seemed like a nice idea, and he wanted to go, or part of him did, but he liked sleeping in on Sundays, liked playing with his computer games. I prayed, kept him talking, and waited. I thought things may be going well.

It all crashed down when Pope Benedict published Jesus of Nazareth. The coworker didn't read the book. Instead he read a review written in German. As is rather typical of him, he absorbed the first opinion he heard as the correct one, and never bothered to read the book. "That book is full of garbage!" he proclaimed loftily. "The Pope shouldn't write about Jesus, he should leave that to the scholars." And that was the end. Just like that.

Or at least the end for now. Things change, and may change again. His ironic contempt is now armour plated, and there is no way I can think of to break through. How does one argue with a man who believes the Pope has no business speaking about Jesus? The absurdity is palpable, yet he holds it as revealed truth.

I feel in part responsible. Perhaps I shouldn't have sold him the Mass at the Oratory as a free show, but he wouldn't have gone for religious reasons. I thought if he would just go, perhaps something might happen, if only a decision to return again because he liked it there. Perhaps I should have pressed, though at the time I felt pressure would only make him dig in his heels. For the time being I can think of nothing to do but pray and wait. If God stirs his heart again, there is one practicing Catholic he knows and respects.

It makes my current efforts with the other coworker (this one a temp who came in about a year ago) a little more imperative. I know now that time is not infinite for us, and consistent effort is needed. To the first man I gave directions, and left it up to him. To this one I set up a date and gave him a tour. I'll speak a bit more of that tomorrow.

Of Parents

MSN had an interesting little item up this morning: 10 Things No One Tells You About Parenting. It covers the basics, like "time? what time?" or the feeling of utter failure that comes from being a modern parent. I've composed a few lists like this myself from time to time, usually for people who are thinking about becoming a parent or who are about to become a parent for the first time. However, over time I have shrunk the list down to fewer and fewer. The last time someone asked, my list had one item on it.

"What can I do?" my friend asked me. "I don't know anything about being a father. What do I have to offer my children?"

There is only one thing that matters, I told him then, and that is to be a good example for your children. Of all the things you can do for them, or give them, this is the only one that counts: to give them a good, loving example. We may fail many times over. But our children will fail as well, and that is why our failures are an opportunity to show our children how to learn from failure, and rise again. It is a terrible burden but also a joyful honour to be a father, to know the children look to you for an example, and to know that you must provide it for them in everything. In how we treat people, in how we work, in our fun, in prosperity, in adversity, and in our faith, by our example we help to shape our children. If we give our children a good example, we will have given them everything they need. If we fail to give them a good example, though we give them everything else- playstations, cars, homes, an education, a fortune- we will have given them nothing.

My friend looked at me a little puzzled, and never brought the subject up again. Well, now I have an article and a website to send to him.

Here and There

I hope all of you had a holy and joyful Easter, and are continuing to be holy and joyful throughout the Easter season.

Holy Week seems to have caused a spike in the number of hits to this site. If anyone who came by then is still around, thanks for dropping by, I hoped you enjoyed the site, and hope you return again.

The Triduum went well for the family. We all attended Mass on the appointed days- although we did skip the Easter Vigil. It is unfortunately too late and too long for the children, and we would have ended up carrying two sleeping children through the subway and buses on our way home. The services were all well done, and any complaints would be superficial and nitpicking. They did omit the Easter Sequence, Victimae Paschale Laudes, but they have never done that at our church. Judging from a few of the other blogs, it was omitted at other places as well. There must be something that can be done, it is supposed to be in the Mass. I'll begin with prayer, and go from there.

Younger was given a little colouring booklet of the Stations of the Cross. She and I went around the stations in the church before the Good Friday Service, and she read from her little booklet. The booklet was surprisingly better than what we usually get from the schools, in that it did focus on how Christ suffered for us. The only oddity was the eighth station, Jesus speaks to the women of Jerusalem. The booklet said the women were sad to see Jesus suffering, but Jesus stopped and spoke to them to make them feel better. Perhaps I'm being obtuse, but telling a group of people that there will come a time when they will cry out "mountains, fall on us" is not exactly "comforting". Quite a few people got a kick out of seeing the little girl leading her father around the stations (honestly, when she pulls me around she looks like a bossy little tugboat leading a bemused battleship) but none thought it may be an idea to emulate her.

Both our children were very well behaved at Mass, and I am proud of both of them.

On Holy Saturday I took my friend from work whom I have mentioned before and his girlfriend on a tour of a few of the older churches of Toronto, plus the Oratory. It went well, and I'll post about it later when I have a little time. To anyone who prayed for my friend, thank you and please continue. There has been progress.

Lastly, I would like to send out greetings and best wishes to anyone who joined the Church last Saturday, and give them what is becoming the traditional welcome from us old Catholics to any new Catholics: Welcome to the Barque of Peter. Here's your bucket. Now start bailing.

Happy Easter from Puff and Bear and the Young'uns

If a picture is worth a Thousand words then below is worth three thousand and explain today much better than any essay I or Bear could have written.

--Puff the Magic Dragon

What're you doing?

It's the triduum. Why are you here? Get off the internet and pray!

Hope you all have a holy triduum.

A little something

I wasn't going to do any more blogging for the next few days, but I noticed that quite a few of my friends and co-workers, even a few bloggers, are looking a little blue these days. I know the feeling. Depression and I are old friends. There isn't much I can do, except say, I know what you're feeling, hang in there, and you're in my prayers. Remember we're in the most joyous time of the year: the victory has been won for us, and whatever else is happening, in the end we're on the winning side. If you need more to make you smile for a moment, here's something that always makes me smile:



I dedicate this to anyone who's feeling a little down, and anyone who can remember getting up early on a Saturday morning to watch cartoons.

God bless you all on this most holy of seasons.

PS, I asked a while back for some prayers for a coworker who is thinking about returning to church. I'll be taking him around to a few churches this weekend. Please pray some more.

The world seems a bit smaller, somehow.

Paul Scofield, who won an Oscar for his portrayal of Thomas More in my favourite movie, A Man for All Seasons, has died.

According to the article, he seems to have been a decent fellow.

Short story and quiz

Read the following carefully. There will be a quiz at the end.

On Monday Puff was dropping Elder off at school when she ran into the former teacher of one of our children. (A reminder: our children go to a Catholic school. We've even run into this teacher at church.) Puff and teacher speak for a while. The conversation begins with the Palm Sunday Mass. The teacher exclaims: "Mass was too long and boring! The Passion went on forever. Couldn't father have done something to liven it up, like have the children act it out?"

Let me pause in my narrative for a moment to say that I find the idea of nailing a little tyke to a cross for the sake of entertainment to be intriguing, especially when the idea comes from a teacher. I continue.

Puff tied to explain that the Mass has to be done the way it is, and the conversation continued until it got around to the subject of wearing green for St Patrick's Day. The teacher was either unaware that St. Patrick's Day had been moved to the previous Friday, or she thought it should have been left alone. Puff again tried to explain that St Patrick's was a religious holiday, and the day should therefore be celebrated on the day that the religious hierarchy decides, rather than the day the pubs decide. At this point the teacher looked at Puff as though she had just grown a second head and asked: "You're not a member of Opus Dei, are you?"

Now here's your question:

What are the odds the sum total of this teacher's knowledge of Catholicism comes from The Da Vinci Code? Please provide your answers in the combox. Remember to use complete sentences. Grammar and spelling count.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I should have flunked more teachers when I had the chance.

I Don't Know What To Make of This

Canada, U.S. agree to share troops in civil emergencies.

This seems innocuous enough, but for some reason I feel the hairs rising on the back of my neck. Feel free to share your thoughts, even to tell me I'm being paranoid.

prayer request

One of Puff's uncles has taken a turn for the worse and is not expected to last much longer. Any prayers for the man and the family would be appreciated.

Creating Division

I recently visited a blog run by people who proclaim themselves to be traditional Catholics. The writer of the post asks a simple question: What should "we" call Catholics who attend the Novus Ordo Rite? Her curiosity, she claims, is simply to come up with a name for that "group" so she and her acquaintances can more effectively have conversations about "them". She bandies about several terms "Novus Catholics", which she finds awkward, "Nordites" which is some kind of abbreviation of Novus Ordo Catholics, and a few others based on the Novus Ordo term. She sees no reason why anyone would take offence at her attempt to name the difference. After all, we do admit to differences. Families do sit on different sides of the church at weddings, which is an example she feels should clarify everything.

First of all, a simple problem: technically, there is no Novus Ordo. Following the publication of Summorum Pontificum the terms for the two forms of the Roman Rite are "Ordinary Form" and "Extraordinary Form." With that in mind, any attempt to name the "group" of Catholics should have been based on that terminology, not "Novus Ordo," but somehow the term "Ordinary Catholics" escaped her notice.

One of the commenters noted that Pope Benedict has said "We desire that this practice… of using distinctive names by which Catholics are marked off from other Catholics, should cease; such names must be avoided… [they] are neither true nor just… they lead to great disturbance and confuse the Catholic body.” Clara (the author of this article) responds by saying the Pope's words "just seems like an assault on common sense. "

The mentality of many catholics I have known, both in adherents to the EF and OF often give me great concern. We are in danger of creating a Anglican style break among ourselves: a "High Church" "Low Church" split. We are in danger of creating the problem described by CS Lewis in The Screwtape Letters. We become connoisseurs of churches, looking for a certain kind of church with a certain kind of liturgy, with certain kind of fellow attendees. We turn church into a kind of club, and where we should have a congregation of people of different classes and psychology brought together in worship and adoration we have a faction, defined by its differences from the other faction. This would be a disaster for us all, and to no purpose whatsoever. The Pope himself has said such practices are to end. Our "common sense" (or lack thereof) should not put itself in opposition to the Pope. Our Faith sense should unite us to his intentions.

A few weeks back several of the blogs circulated a letter by the then Cardinal Ratzinger in which he stated that he felt that two rites could not survive, and that the future should be based on the older rite, with some innovations that have proven themselves - he used the example of the increased lectionary- added to the rite. I pray that the Pope's intention comes to pass.

In the meantime, another little history. The trads frequent condescension towards the ordinary Catholics. Many times I have heard them speak of how they have kept the light of the true faith alive in their little enclaves. They alone kept the truth when all else stepped aside. Here's an alternative view. When the changes to the liturgy were instituted, the vast majority of practicing Catholics went to Church the next Sunday, and continued going to church. Some liked the changes, some didn't, but they still continued going to Mass, they still put money in collection plate, kept the lights on, kept the building warm. Did the trads keep the light of truth going? perhaps. But if you see a Catholic church standing, if you see people going in, if you see a place to which the EF can be brought back, the odds are more than ninety nine per cent that it was kept standing by- you know, those people.

As for the question that started this rumination- there is a good term for describing those people who kept with the Novus Ordo/ Ordinary Form, one which would cause them no offence whatsoever. That word is "Catholic".

New Format

Look, it's just for a week. Deal.

March Break Report, iii

The kids were sick and we did nothing for Wednesday and Thursday. Yesterday everyone was fine, so we went to the Royal Ontario Museum and took advantage of half price Friday nights. I am still not used to the external design of the new section of the ROM- it looks to my eye like an iceberg drifted into a Victorian Neo-Classical building- but inside it is very nice. We took in as much as we could, but still didn't see a tenth of the exhibits. I think I will get the Family Membership and start making regular visits.

Among the highlights was a small medieval exhibit near the main entrance. Among other things they had illuminated pages from medieval manuscripts, including a page from a choirbook. I began softly chanting one of the hymns there, until I was about halfway through, and realized there was a large group of people standing in line, and looking at me rather curiously.

The real highlight for the kids was the dionosaur exhibit. I find these things fascinating. It wasn't just dinosaurs, though, they also had pterasaurs and icthyosaurs. I don't know if it's just me, but even the fish back then look mean. They also had some ice age skeletons, including a species whose latin name translates as "subway deer," so named because its remains were found while digging out the underground passages for the Toronto subway.

They also had several sections set aside for children including several interactive areas where the children can pet the fur of dead animals, take rubbings of animal tracks and skeletons and the like. Younger also excavated her own dinosaur.

They also had a section upstairs devoted to european culture, showing artifacts from the medieval period up to modern. The medieval artifacts were mainly religous, as may well be imagined. They had beautiful statues and some wonderful stained glass. Even better, they had a few statues that were just plain butt ugly. I say that because I often hear people say how good everything was done back then, how wonderful it all was, and it's good to have a reminder that not all of them were design geniuses, and not everything made was an earthly copy of heavenly perfection. "Old" is not always a synonym for "great".

We also looked at a few suits of armour, or as I like to think of them, "dragon food in a tin."

We didn't get to the Egyptian, Roman or Greek exhibits, but as I said, I think we may make some regular visits until we can take it all in.

This has been a good March Break.

Update on York Abortion Debate Debacle

UPDATE:

The Crusty Curmudgeon has a good write up here

From an e-mail received from Sheepcat:

York University became the latest Canadian institution of higher learning to attempt to squelch the pro-life point of view when its student federation abruptly cancelled a scheduled Feb. 28 debate on abortion, claiming that the pro-life movement contributes to an “environment of intimidation” against women.

It so joined other Canadian schools that have taken actions such as refusing accreditation to pro-life student groups on their campuses. However, the latest news is that York University administration has apparently stepped in to overrule the student federation and has rescheduled the debate for Wednesday, March 19 from 5:30 – 7:00 p.m.

Puff says: Well, well, well, now if only they would stop students from harrassing CF recruiters when they come on campus.

Music Matters

I recently came across yet another debate on the value of Haugen Haas et al. The author I was reading defended the value of some of Haugen et al, but more than this plead for the development of objective criticism, and the use of objective language when debating the value of music. I agree with this. So much of the debate consists of “I hate that song! Get rid of it!” which is no more or less valid than: “I love that song! Sing it often!”

Unfortunately, objective language is difficult. I once debated a fellow who claimed to be an expert in music matters who also insisted that we use objective terms. He then proceeded to argue that Haugen was objectively good because he “uses interesting chords.” Now first, a technical point: “Interesting” is not an objective term, not in any way. It is subjective, for it implicitly needs a subject who finds something interesting. So no objectivity here.

I have also heard music defended because “There’s nothing wrong with it.” Perhaps this is true. Perhaps not in some cases, as I will argue momentarily. However, it seems to me that in celebrating the sacrifice of Holy Mass it is insufficient for our music to have “nothing wrong with it.” There should be something positively right with it. Unfortunately, so far all I’ve been offered personally is ‘interesting chords,’ whatever that means.

But I’m willing to admit the existence of ‘interesting chords’ or ‘curious rhythms’ or whatever novelty seems to pass for musical goodness these days. I am, admittedly, a musical amateur. My expertise lies in language. To be fair, the debate that began this little rumination was over Haugen's psalms, which aren't so bad when compared to- say- Rossini's propers- and the words are direct translations, so my linguistic analysis would be irrelevent. Instead I propose to examine the words to one of Haugen’s greatest hits, the ubiquitous “Gather Us In”.

Before I begin to examine what is to be found in the words, let me say what is not to be found: God. There is no explicit mention of God, neither by name nor by attribute. Normally I would have thought this to be a problem for a hymn, but apparently I am wrong. With that in mind, I begin.

Here in this place, new light is streaming,

And we’re off. This line sets a place for this song- “here”- which is the only way we can assume the song is about God, because we are in a Church, and presumably we would ask God to gather us in church, right? We’ll get back to that point. The next part of the line offers us new light. Why new? Light has been a subject of many hymns down through the ages, and many adjectives have been added to it. “Holy” light, “Heavenly” light, “Godly light” or even “Godlight.” But here the light is “new”. New is not a virtue, although it is paraded in this song as though it were. Further, what is “new” about light? Light was the first created thing. It could be the light of a new day- except for me, the place and time where I heard this song most often was at the Saturday evening Mass of Anticipation, when the day was drawing to a close, and the light was therefore old. The only new thing about the light in church is that light is currently provided by electricity, a relatively new development. Perhaps that’s what this song is about: it’s really a hymn to Thomas Edison. It makes sense. After all, Edison is mentioned by name exactly the same number of times as God.

Now is the darkness vanished away,
See in this place our fears and our dreamings,

Here we have the first mention of the true subject of this song: Us. There are 27 or 28 mentions of “we” “our” or “us”. By comparison there are seven mentions of “you” and “your” which is presumably God. Or Edison. A question: Are we supposed to see “our fears and our dreamings” at church? If not, then where are we? Incidentally, dreamings is not a word.

Brought here to you in the light of this day.
Gather us in, the last and forsaken
Gather us in, the blind and the lame
Call to us now and we shall awaken,
We shall arise to the sound of our name.

We are the young, our lives are a myst’ry
We are the old, who yearn for your face.
We have been sung throughout all of hist’ry

We are “sung”? What does this mean? I am at a loss about being sung into existence. I can only hope the songwriter is better than Haugen.

Called to be light to the whole human race.
Gather us in, the rich and the haughty,
Gather us in, the proud and the strong,
Give us a heart, so meek and so lowly
Give us the courage to enter the song.

'The courage to enter the song'- perhaps my least favourite line of the song. We ask for the strength and courage to endure. The courage of saints and martyrs. Here the song combines New Age spiritualism with sixties idealism which tells us that the bravest thing in the world is to strum a guitar around a campfire in protest of the Man.

Here we will take the wine and the water
Here we will take the bread of new birth.

“New” again. And here we run into a pet peeve of mine. I am tired of songs that refer to the body and blood of Christ as bread and wine. I know, Aquinas did it. He did, but he also stressed that the matter was more than bread and wine. Some of the newer songs I was stuck singing for five years emphasize the bread, rather than the flesh. Some go further, so we sing of “seed” and “grapes” or “vines”, and are no longer singing of bread and wine. If we go any farther back we’ll be singing in praise of manure.

Here you shall call your sons and your daughters
Call us anew to be salt of the earth.
Give us to drink the wine of compassion

Body and Blood of Christ.

Give us to eat the bread that is you

Body and Blood of Christ!

Nourish us well, and teach us to fashion
Lives that are holy and hearts that are new.

Not in the dark of buildings confining

So, we’re not in a building. A church, whatever else it may be, is a building. So if we are not in a building, then we are not in a church, and if we are not in a church, then where are we, and more importantly, whom are we asking to gather us in?

Not in some heaven, light years away,

I have no idea what to make of that line.

But here in this place, the new light is shining
Now is the kingdom, now is the day.
Gather us in, and hold us forever,
Gather us in, and make us your own,
Gather us in, all peoples together
Fire of love in our flesh and our bone.

The song displaces God, and in God’s place puts “us”. This song is not about God, or in praise of God, it is in praise of us, and us alone. I would take the advice of the fourth stanza, and not sing this song in a “building confining.” Although, personally I would not sing this song around a Catholic campfire.

So what do we do at this point? Objective debate would be nice, but few are capable. The majority of music that seems deficient is the new stuff, so the tendency is to want to banish the new in its entirety. It is unfair to look back into the past and say “gosh, they really knew how to write back then!” Natural selection of a sort has been taken place, and only the best has come down to us. Natural selection is still at work. A while ago a choir director acquaintance of mine took me through some old dusty cupboards of a church and showed me some hymnals from the forties. The hymnals were full of the work of a priest who wrote the sappiest, most syrupy saccharine songs you could possibly imagine. His work has now died the death it richly deserved, and is sung no more. Wait a few years, and most of the Haugen Haas Schutte stuff will be gone. A few of their better pieces may survive, and Catholics will be griping about some other new hack who has arrived on the scene.

Pop Quiz

How much beer was involved before this seemed like a good idea?

Round your guess off to the nearest six pack.

march break report ii

March Break is cancelled for today. We were going to go with my sister to Casaloma, but the kids got sick, possibly from something they picked up at some family money pit yesterday. I'll write something up later tonight.

March Break Report.

Yesterday was day one of the Break. We decided to take day a day trip somewhere, but our plans were consistently scuttled. The planned trip to Martyrs Shrine was scuttled when we discovered that the Shrine was closed at this time of year. This was a surprise to me. I had thought that a Shrine to Canada's most famous saints, saints who are of huge importance to this area, would be open year round. More fool me. However, to be fair, the area is under several feet of snow, which sort of makes me wonder what the Jesuits and Huron were thinking when they chose that place. I see a dialogue sort of like this:

"Brebeuf, il y a dix pieds de neige ici!"

Brebeuf: "C'est parfait!"

So we drove around and did some family research, which consisted of finding a few of the last graves we haven't tracked down yet, only to discover they were buried in a section of the cemetery which only allows for flat markers on the ground and are therefore under several feet of snow and ice. We visited some other graves, and older and younger had some fun taking rubbings. We'll return after the thaw and get the rest.

Our cemetery wanderings brought us close to Hamilton, which lead to another bit of research that was a bit of fun. We went to the neighbourhood where my father grew up. I told the kids some of his old stories about growing up in the depression. We took pictures of the Tim Horton's where my father was born and raised, and photos of the hill that was a major source of my father's income. (This is a bit of a story. In short, he lived near a hill. The kids of the area discovered that the open backed delivery trucks of the era couldn't stop on the hill, so they'd jump on the back, help themselves to whatever they wanted, and jump off before they reached the top.) We also visited Christ the King Cathedral, where Dad was one of the first altar boys. I took some photos of places he mentioned in his stories- the door where he leaned his fishing rod while he went to serve Mass, the steps where he and the other altar boys were caught shooting craps by the bishop, a few others. I explained to my kids the importance of some of the figures on the facade, but that was all. We could not go in, which I thought was very odd. I am too used to St Michael's, which is never closed as near as I can tell. Christ the King is closed during the week, and has only two Masses on Sunday. I imagine the diocese is in need of our prayers.

We ended the day by visiting my Mom on the way home. It was a nice visit. Mom was in her usual fine form, which involves conversations like this:

"How are you today, Mom?"

"Not too good, not too good. I got up this morning ('this morning' to mother means about 5:00) and had breakfast. I did some laundry and sweeping, then I did a little painting ('a little painting' generally refers to mother's project of painting portraits of all the Canadian soldiers who died in Afghanistan or elsewhere and sending them off to the families, among making portraits for other tragic stories as they come along. She currently has 20+ portraits on the go.) then I went to church. After that someone asked me to go and visit so and so in the hospital who isn't feeling too well. When I got back I did a little quilting, but the dog's hair was getting everywhere so I had to vacuum before I could do any more. So I did the vacuuming but after that I felt hungry so I made an egg. I wanted to do some more quilting or painting, but by the time I was finished eating I felt tired."

"You felt tired? Really? You don't say. How odd."

Dear old Mom would not appreciate me saying her age, so let's just it's unlikely she'll see another eighty+ years.

Today we'll have a little fun with the kids.

Best Laid Plans

There's an old saying: "If you wish to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." I think he's yucking it up right now, as the plans Puff and I made for our daughters' March Break just got buried under a ton of snow. Every time I looked out the window today it was like looking at the inside of a ping pong ball.

The plans were simple, faith, fun, education,- although we were going to try and hide the education under some fun. A couple of our plans involved taking outdoor day trips. The first was a trip for family research. I've been teaching the children our family history, and we've traveled around a bit, finding the places our ancestors knew and finding their final resting places. We take photographs and tombstone rubbings. There were just three direct line ancestors left for us to find, and we were going to find them on the break. Unfortunately, they're under several feet of snow now. Looks like something for summer vacation now.

The other day trip is iffy. Elder had just done a unit at school about the Jesuit mission to Huronia. So I thought, 'Let's go to the place where it all happened' and planned a trip to Martyr's shrine. Unfortunately, that's in the snowbelt. It's under more snow than we are. Argh.

So, time to rearrange, come up with new ideas. I got until tomorrow.

If a bar gets it...

...why don't we? Danny Boy has been banned in a New York pub. I wish Catholics would get the message. Being of predominantly Irish descent, I can't tell you the number of times I've ended up howling that depressing dirge around graves. It's not even Irish! Get with the program, people. While we're at it, let's ban that tu-ra-lu-ra-lura thing as well.

Acts of Language

I finally got around to reading Pope Benedict's Jesus of Nazareth. Thus far, one line in particular has jumped out at me. It's this one, on page 65: "The second element is the calling of the twelve Apostles, which is both a symbolic gesture and a totally concrete act by which Jesus initiates the renewal of the twelve tribes, the new assembly of the people of Israel." This rather innocuous line struck me because of his use of the phrases "symbolic gesture" and "totally concrete act", which took me back to the long years of university and my tedious training in, rejection of, and battles with the adherents to deconstruction.

Let me explain a little. When examining language, and trying to come up with a theoretical approach to examining language as a whole, among the various basic starting points are two questions: What does language say? and What does language do?

The examination of language based on a model of saying, of language as a method of conveying meaning, lead down an interesting and ultimately, it seems to me, futile path. The theoreticians generally start with a model developed at the beginning of the twentieth century by a scholar named Ferdinand de Saussure. Simply put, it creates the concept of the "sign" which is made up of a "signifier" which consists of a sound, or the noise we make when speaking, and a "signified," which is the idea we attach to that sound. As you can see, the sound is not attached to an external reality, but rather to our ideas. For example, if I were to say "the dog ran down the street", on the one hand we may have a fairly clear idea of the meaning, but on the other hand, there is a wide variety of interpretations. People may think of a variety of dogs, running at their own speeds, down a another variety of streets. The meaning of that statement cannot be nailed down definitively. As such, language fails to convey real meaning definitively. Pushed to the extreme, as it was in my time at university under deconstruction, it cannot convey meaning at all.

The irony of the position was exacerbated by many scholars writing thick, fat, verbose tomes on the subject, elaborating at great length how words fail to mean, understanding is an impossible dream. Many of them seemed depressed by their own ideas, and the theme of entrapment within meaningless language became common.

Now, before I continue, It seems to me that this can be a very subtle attack on religion, specifically Christianity. What does it mean for the Word of God, if words are ultimately meaningless?

The second question, the one which I preferred and drew a fair amount of flack for preferring it, was the question "what does language do?" If you look at language as a doing rather than a saying, as a means of action rather than a conveyor of meaning, a very different picture emerges. We begin to see that language exists to do, not to describe.

Let's take an obvious example. Say I were to say to someone "I bet you ten dollars...." that some event would take place. I am not describing a bet, but am in the process of making one. Further, whatever the other person's reaction- let's say "You're on!" or "Forget it."- is also an action. We are not trying to relay information, but rather to perform an act. Unlike the indefinite nature of meaning, something concrete and definitive does happen here: the bet is made, or not. And there are many other examples. If a priest, under the proper set of circumstances, were to say, "I now pronounce you man and wife," he is making the couple man and wife right there. If I were to say "thank you," I would be thanking you.

And it goes on. If I were to tell a joke, for example, you may laugh, or not. Either way, something definite has happened. Let's say in an attempt to explain a point I were to give as an example the sentence "the dog ran down the street." As a conveyor of meaning it may be subject to a plethora of meanings- perhaps infinitely so. But as an example, it either works to illustrate my point, or it does not. The point is explained, or it is not. Either way, something definite has happened.

When this model of language (usually called speech act theory) is applied to theology, a different picture appears. God's Word is a Word in action throughout human history, not a futile description, but forming and guiding. God's Word is a concrete act, capable of taking the form of flesh, that it may speak to us more clearly.

Meanwhile, Back at My Alma Mater

h/t curt jester

The Student Union at my old Alma Mater, York U, shut down a scheduled debate on the subject of abortion just hours before it was to have taken place. Both the hosting parties had agreed to the debate, chose some speakers, were ready to have an academic debate in the old tradition- neither side seemed to have any problem with holding a debate, so why step in?

Because the topic itself is forbidden. The sides were told "there is freedom of speech to a limit, and that abortion is not an issue to debate." The student union "demanded that the event not take place." Debating abortion, said the student union, is like "debating whether a man should be allowed to beat his wife."

I wish I could say I was surprised at this. I had hoped that the students might rally against this encroachment on their free speech. If there is one way to get a topic discussed around here, it's to ban it. Usually.

And in a stunning coincidence, I just got a letter from the university asking me to donate some money. I am preparing a reply. I was thinking of borrowing a response from a Russian writer to a critic. (salty humour alert): "I am sitting in the smallest room of my house. Your letter is in front of me. Soon it will be behind me."

Ah, education. As one of the cartoons said recently, it's the wonderful process of taking an empty mind and replacing it with a closed one.

Give a Monkey a Keyboard....

James over at Toronto Catholic Blog is continuing his series on the early history of the diocese of Toronto.

Today at Mass

Nothing in particular happened. Puff was sick so I took the two kids by myself. Mass went as normal, little out of the ordinary there. What I did notice is that I no longer feel tense or irritable at the music, now that I am out of the choir. I can join in if they are playing a song that I like, and can close the book and put it down if it is one that I do not. I usually put the book down these days, but that's fine with me. I no longer have to lend my voice, and that's a relief.

Here's something, though: after Mass I was in the narthex when the choir came down. They walked past me, and not one said hello. I sang with them for five years.

Oh well.

Building Up by Tearing Down

Vox sent me a link to an article in the Remnant. I won't quote the entire article here. For the most part, the author is complementary of Benedict XVI and supports him completely. That is well and good, and had he stuck to that, I would have praised the article without qualification. But he fills his praise with condemnation for John Paul II. Take these selections from a list of achievements of Benedict's reign. Even when JPII is not mentioned by name, he is implicitly criticized:

-the coming issuance of new and stricter rules for beatification and canonization, accompanied by the near shut-down of the “saint-making factory” that operated during the prior pontificate (a stupefying 483 saints in 27 years, as compared with 14 canonizations overseen by Benedict since his election nearly three years ago);

-the Pope’s wearing of the miter of Blessed Pius IX and his return to the usage of a papal throne, instead of the upholstered chair favored by his predecessor;

-the Pope’s abstention from the “ecumenical liturgies” and other ecumenical and interreligious spectacles of which the last Pope was so fond;

-the absence of any “cult” of Benedict, who shuns the limelight, yet is attracting more Catholics to his audiences than John Paul II did;

-the dramatic reduction in papal travel to mass events of dubious accomplishments;

He goes on from there:

Even the world can see the dramatic difference, a difference it fears, between this papacy and the last one.

and finally:

and we have long been waiting—haven’t we?—for a Pope willing to govern the Church and at least attempt to restore good order, instead of frittering away the Church’s credibility with cheap apologies for the sins of dead Catholics who cannot defend themselves, dialoguing endlessly with people who have no interest in the truth, and hailing a conciliar “renewal” that was never anything but a delusion fed by cheering crowds of teenagers who liked the Pope who liked rock music. Now we have a Pope who needs defending by militant Catholics against the very forces that only yesterday were hailing the crowd-pleasing novelties of his predecessor.

Now, I love tradition, and I love the Tradition. However, I am getting the impression from the article that the author believes that the previous pontificate was by and large a prolonged mistake. Let's look at a few of the examples:

Benedict's review of the saint making machine. Okay, since the number of Saints canonized by JPII was 'stupefying', there must be a few who were made saints by mistake. Name them. Were Brebeuf and the martyrs a mistake? Was Escriva? Maximilliam Kolbe? Edith Stein?

Benedict prefers a throne over the upholstered chair. Now, I love the throne on many levels. It's a powerful symbol and a beautiful example of the cabinet maker's art. But, at the same time, the Pope's a Pope, whether he's on the throne, or a bench, or on a stool.

Absence of the cult of Benedict. Hmmmm, this is a toughie. I would say, judging from a lot of blogs, that there is a cult of Benedict, especially among the conservative bloggers.

And so on. The previous Pope made "cheap" apologies. He "frittered away" the Church's credibility. He travelled too much. And so on. He also kicked the Soviet Union to the curb, fought communism within the Church, and brought some order to the chaos that followed the council. He also raised a little guy from Germany up to one of the most prominent positions in the Curia, and put him in a position to be the most prominent Cardinal coming into the last conclave. In short, intentionally or not, JPII is responsible for the pontificate of BXVI.

This article gives me the impression that Popes need our approval, or their authority answers to our judgement. Here's the rub: They are ordained and chosen to exercise that authority. We aren't ordained to be their critics. Quite the opposite, as Peter at Utter Mutterings pointed out last week:

Canon 1369 of the 1983 Code of Canon Law states that "a person who . . . in published writing ... expresses insults or excites hatred or contempt against religion or the Church is to be punished with a just penalty."

Canon 1373 states that "a person who publicly incites among subjects animosities or hatred against the Apostolic See or an ordinary because of some act of power or ecclesiastical ministry . . . is to be punished by an interdict or other just penalties.

In short, criticism that turns into ad hominem insults- and this piece is walking a fine line- can bring about an interdict, which could mean, among other things, refusal of christian burial.

What I think, personally, goes like this: the Pope is either chosen through the action of the Holy Spirit, or he isn't. That means John Paul II was chosen by the Spirit, or he was not. Benedict XVI was chosen, or he wasn't. If he was chosen, then his predecessor was chosen. If his predecessor wasn't chosen, then neither was Benedict. That means the Spirit wanted John Paul II on the throne, knowing full well what he would do. To condemn John Paul II for being the Pope he was is tantamount to saying the Spirit made a mistake in choosing him, and exacerbated that mistake by granting him so long a life.

It is not necessary to tear down one to build up another. The entire article could have been written without a single reference to JPII. Benedict's virtues are such he does not need a straw man. Incidentally, Benedict is still making use of the Saint Making machine, and has on at least two occasions so far, waived the waiting period- once for his predecessor. Benedict, the admired Pope, saw fit to recognize the virtue of his predecessor in the most prominent and highest way possible. Unless, of course, you wish to call that a mistake as well. I won't. I want to have a Christian burial.

Goodbye

Puff has left the 'blog. I am far too musy to continue. I may come back, I may not.