"Phenomenology of religion concerns the experiential aspect of religion, describing religious phenomena in terms consistent with the orientation of the worshippers. It views religion as being made up of different components, and studies these components across religious traditions so that an understanding of them can be gained." Wikipedia, "Phenomenology of Religion"
Every year my Christmas gift to my parish parents and students is a reflection based on this clip from A Charlie Brown Christmas. Every year the reflection is different even though the clip remains the same. Here is my reflection for this year, I hope you all enjoy!
Watch the video above. While you are watching, stop at each time mark and answer the question. You can simply think about it in your head, write it down in a journal, or discuss with a friend or your family. Take a break to reflect on the true “reason for the season,” and have fun! Have a blessed Christmas!
STOP 0:50
Linus doesn't think the little tree reflects the "modern spirit." What do you think the "modern spirit" is? Is it a help or a hindrance to celebrating Christmas?
STOP 2:30
Charlie starts with good intentions of finding a nice tree, but he gets discouraged by those around him. When have the voices around you discouraged you? Did you work through it? How did you do it?
STOP 5:15
Charlie hears the Gospel and allows it to transform him and give him new purpose. Has anything ever inspired you like that? Have you ever tried to let the Gospel transform you? How did it go?
END
Charlie gets discouraged again, but his actions inspire others. Together they create some beauty and praise God. Charlie evangelized the rest of the Peanuts gang. Have you ever inspired someone else? What happened? What did you or can you build together?
God bless us, everyone!
*Depending on what option you choose, this could take longer than 10 minutes!
As posted by HolidayFavorites Dec. 10, 2009
I love this song, guys. And by love, I mean I'm writing a 4-part arrangement of it. And by writing, I mean I started it a year ago and haven't touched it since... but whenever I finish, it will be awesome. I think this song is the perfect cap to my theme in Advent reflections this season, seeking hope. I also highly recommend the actual music video. It's beautiful.
People often reference the origin of the celebration of Christmas when they are feeling snarky about Christianity.Yes, the date of December 25 was chosen because it was the pagan celebration of the Winter Solstice. (the calendar of the time was a bit confused) But there are a lot of pagan celebrations to co-opt, why the Winter Solstice? Because it is the celebration of the sun coming back to the earth. After that date the days start to get longer again. Instead of diminishing each day, the light increases each day. Definitely a day worthy of celebration. Can you think of a better day to celebrate the birth of our Lord?
It's a dark time, and I mean that literally and figuratively. You don't have to go far to hear about another disaster, death, injustice. It is hard to keep your head up when that's what you hear and it literally seems like the sun is never out. I think we have had a fully sunny day once this entire month. Maybe you have better weather where you are, but Chicago has been completely overcast. With only bad news to hear and gray skies to see, it's not hard to stay "with eyes cast down, fixed upon the ground, eyes cast down."
That is the challenge of Advent. To "keep my eyes fixed on the sun." You have to ask yourself what you believe about Jesus. Do you believe that Jesus is truly God and truly human, come to bring light and hope and healing to everyone? Do you believe that Jesus did that for you? For the person you love most? It is the fourth week of Advent. There is no more time to waste. Is your heart ready for the coming of the Son?
A great thing about this song is the end - the repetition of "even on a cloudy day" takes a phrase that could be dismissed as cliche and makes you listen. It builds to "I keep my eyes fixed on the sun" like a person who has struggled to find hope and is walking with your struggle now. Someone who was "way down had to find a place to lay low" and says "it almost stopped me from believing." A person you might trust when trying to tell you to keep hope.
HAPPY GAUDATE SUNDAY! This is my favorite Sunday of the whole liturgical calendar. Advent is my favorite liturgical season, and Gaudate Sunday is like the climax. I wear pink all week.
I chose this song because in content, it is extremely basic. "We've come a long long way together, through the hard times and the good. I have to celebrate you baby, I have to praise you like I should." That's all the lyrics. Today does not need a lot of words. It just needs a lot of praise! Praise is very simple. It doesn't require lots of fancy words (though you can use them if you want) it just requires giving part of yourself to God. It can be a moment of thankfulness, a gesture, a song, a dance. Any expression of love for our Maker is the praise we are reveling in today.
That's a big reason why I chose this video. I could have gone with a lyric video, but since I put all the lyrics in two sentences earlier it seemed unnecessary. There are two things I love about this video: how terrible all the dancers are, and how committed each of them are to their dance. They may be truly awful but they love what they are doing. Even when someone turns off their music they do not respond with anger but dance all the more. It's a beautiful example of what we are supposed to do: dance for joy even if we cannot dance. Sing with all our breath even if we cannot sing. Give with all our hearts even if we have nothing to give. All without shame.
Why? Because that's what God asks and that's what God wants. You think God does not know what is in your skill set or not? You think God cares how you sound when you sing Alleluia at Mass or service? God created you and walked with you your entire life. You are not going to surprise the guy with your voice. God wants what you freely give, your praise in any form is treasured. (this is my way of saying pick up your hymnal and sing in church, ya layabout)
There are so many stresses this time of year and so many reasons to look down. To curse God for the hardships and the suffering that seems to surround us. That is the challenge and the blessing of this day. Not to forget all of those things but to just spend some moments putting them down to just praise. To recognize and celebrate the good things, the blessings with God's caring hand on them. So this week, blast this song and have a little dance party. Sing your pump-up song in the shower with extra vigor. Sing at Mass. Go rock climbing. Watch a sunrise. Write a poem. Play soccer with your family. Build something awesome with LEGOs. Do something for the simple joy you get just by doing it.
I chose a Regina Spektor song last year for the second week of Advent, too. I wonder if there's a connection? There is a lot I want to say about this song and Advent, but I'll start with just a general expression of love for Regina Spektor. She's fantastic, isn't she? Anyway, "Open" has a beautiful, slow build reflected in the instrumentation and dynamics. It starts minimally and a little dark. Even though the content of the verses do not get much lighter, it remains hopeful in the chorus and the music. There it is again, hope. Advent is about waiting in darkness, with hope, for light.
Potentially lovely Perpetually human Suspended and open Open
With those words, the song switches from minor to major. The piano is fuller and the vocalization louder. Just because we are waiting, that does not mean our time is devoid of joy or beauty. Waiting can be hard, boring, painful. It is definitely "perpetually human." Sometimes it can be "potentially lovely." The situations in the verses are sometimes painful, "wires 'round my fingers" or the gasps for breath in between the lines about being trapped in the last verse. I wrote last week about the journey being hard and sometimes unknown. To pretend it is not is denial - one of the reasons I like Catholicism. It's homey and rich and it's not very cuddly. No one accuses Catholicism of trying to con you with warm fuzzies. (Or maybe I'm watching too much Daria on Hulu?)
Even though the song is not particularly happy, it recognizes beauty. In the bridge, everyone is confined but they see beauty in the falling snow and the streetlights. It's a delicate part of the song and almost a rest from the tugging extremes expressed between the verses and the chorus. Throughout, the piano anchors you throughout the song with a steady pulse and lovely counterpoint to the vocals. It asks you to look beyond the hard, boring, painful.
Then comes the word "open," often repeated, is triumphant. Every time she sings it, it has more power and is more full, joyful even. The song asks you to recognize the potentially lovely, accept the perpetually human, and embrace being suspended and open. Be open to all the experiences we endure, beautiful, painful, confining, lovely. Be open to allowing experiences to affect you. Be open to the Nativity event, the Incarnation, God coming to earth. It can be a slow build, like this song. On the last chorus, the last "opens," we get the finale we have been waiting for.
So that this week is actually a reflection, I'll leave you with some questions:
- Where do/did you recognize beauty in the coming week? This past week? In your Christmas preparations?
- What do you need to make yourself more open to this Advent? In the new year?
- Finish the last line of the song, "Open up your eyes and then..."
With Thanksgiving on my heels and being without my usual 9-hour marathon of music (aka driving back from KC to Chicago) I was at a loss for the song to choose for the First Sunday in Advent. I asked myself what I think of for the first Sunday, and my answers were: hope, beginning, journey. And I had my song.
I used to listen to Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits over and over on car trips when I was a kid. I would be watching America go by my window while listening to this song. Still today the images that flash by my eyes when hearing it are of farmland, mountains, sand dunes, forests. Thanksgiving is a national holiday and our nation definitely gave us a lot to be thankful for, as well as cause for worry. We have had times of uncertainty before, but lately it seems to come from all sides: ebola, Obama v. congress, Ferguson, Keystone pipeline, ISIS ... not to mention the things we were always worried about, global warming, hunger, poverty, violence, abortion, disease, ignorance, racism, sexism, ableism, ageism, fear.
But this song is hopeful, right from the first line. "Let us be lovers, we'll marry our fortunes together...and walked off to look for America." The US is a country founded on ideas, not a person. In the song, the couple are on a journey to seek those ideas. Intangible yet somehow embodied in Mrs. Wagner pies, turnpikes, and games with fellow travelers, seeking those ideas sustain them even when "I'm empty and aching and I don't know why."
Advent is a journey seeking truth and love. We commemorate the journey of Mary and Joseph with Christmas pageants (I can still hear "he's the one we've been waiting for" delivered in awkward kid actor cadence from all 9 years at my Catholic gradeschool) and putting the figurines from our nativity sets on the opposite side of the room from the stable. Despite the fact that we do them every year, the pageants and the figurines still remind us of a story of an uncomfortable journey with an uncertain conclusion. Like all our journeys, we are rarely ecstatic the entire time and our destinations usually throw a few curve balls. This is particularly true of journeys seeking something, even something as intangible as truth and love.
That is why we have to remain hopeful. The lovers in the song endure hitchhiking and buses and depression because they want to capture that elusive America idea, and they believe they can. What comes after is unknown. Mary and Joseph endure persecution and donkey riding to have a baby in a stable. Not an ideal situation. We know what comes after: more persecution, death, and resurrection. Also, not ideal, but ultimately the greatest hope possible. Our Advent starts in the usual swirl of consumerism and this year even more uncertainty and darkness. But we are hopeful that our destination will be full of truth and love. It may not be easy or comfortable, but when was solid truth or deep love easy or comfortable?
It's not on YouTube, it's too new and awesome, so if you're not buying Fr. Kent's Advent album (which can be found on iTunes, Amazon, and CDBaby), I recommend you go to Spotify and listen to it.
This is a rare song that makes a jam out of the genealogy from Matthew. I mean, rare rare, because I've never heard of anyone else doing it. Then again, I haven't been following Danielle Rose too closely, and she's the only other person I can think of who could pull it off. (Yes, this is the kind of promotion you get when you're friends with me. It's even free.)
I chose this song for the first week of Advent because it's the beginning. And as the song goes, "We'll start at the very beginning, it's a very good place to start." The story of the coming of Jesus does not start with an angel appearing to Mary. It starts with Abraham, the father of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. All three peoples recognize the story of God working in our lives. Christians call it "salvation history," the history of God saving us, person by person. The story spreads and more people come to follow. So as Advent begins, look back on the rest of the calendar year: What brought you to this point? Who brought you to this point? What is your salvation history? As you look forward as the new liturgical year begins not so far from the calendar year, How do you want to move forward? How have you seen God's promise "that all will be fine," come through this year? If nothing seems fine this year, do you have hope in that promise for the future? Jesus is coming - look for hope.
For this week I chose "Laughing With," probably the most theologically correct pop song out there. I would rank it higher than quite a few Christian songs, too. I like this song because it asks you to look at your image of God, to ask yourself if and when you think about God. There's not a lot of frills in this song, it's very to the point. "No one laughs at God in a hospital, no one laughs at God in a war." To put it plainly and politely, stuff is real.
It might be a silly thing to say about life, but it is most definitely real. There is no time when it seems more real than the painful times, all the times Spektor lists in the verses and any other times that come right to mind. In those times, we tend to lean on God, or blame God, find comfort in God or cease to believe. What she's saying here is to pay attention to how you see God in the bad times and "when you're at a cocktail party and listening to a good God-themed joke."
Advent is a very short season, less than four weeks. We don't have much time to ease into it, so stuff has to get real fast. What are we preparing for? God getting real - the Incarnation, the birth of the second person in the Holy Trinity as a screaming, eating-and-pooping baby. If you've spent any time with babies, you know they are terribly real. Our God, the unknowable, all-powerful wanted to make sure we understood him in a real way, not just as a good punchline. After all, Emmanuel means "God with us." So, in your preparations this week, think about how you think about God. Is God real to you? Have you ever thought of our Lord and Savior as a baby you hold in your arms? As someone you would go do a very real activity with, like go on a hike or to a baseball game? As the friend who's shoulder you cry on in painful times?
Advent Reflection #2.5 :: Fiesta de Virgen Edition: Excerpt from Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
The scene: The old Archbishop felt called to pray in the church that night, and found Sada, the old Mexican woman kept as a slave by an American family, had come to pray as well. She was not allowed to come to Mass.
"Never, as he afterward told Father Vaillant, had it been permitted to him to behold such deep experience of the holy joy of religion as on that pale December night. He was able to feel, kneeling beside her, the preciousness of the things of the altar to her who was without possessions; the tapers, the image of the Virgin, the figures of the saints, the Cross that took away indignity from suffering and made pain and poverty a means of fellowship with Christ. Kneeling beside the much enduring bond-woman, he experienced those holy mysteries as he had done in his young manhood. He seemed able to feel all it meant to her to know that there was a Kind Woman in Heaven, though there were such cruel ones on earth. Old people, who have felt blows an toil and known the world's hard hand, need, even more than children do, a woman's tenderness. Only a Woman, divine, could know all that a woman can suffer. --- ..."'O Sacred Heart of Mary!' She murmured by his side, and he felt how that name was food and raiment, friend and mother to her. He received the miracle in her heart into his own, saw through her eyes, knew that his poverty was as bleak as hers. When the Kingdom of heaven had first come into the world, into a cruel world of torture and slaves and masters, He who brought it had said, 'And whosoever is least among you, the same shall be first in the Kingdom of Heaven.' This church was Sada's house, and he was a servant in it."
Of my favorite liturgical season, this Sunday is my favorite day. On Gaudate Sunday the priests' vestments are pink, (they insist on calling it a manlier "rose," but we all know it's pink) hence our song from Pink Martini. I like to celebrate by wearing pink every day this week; if you know me, you know that's not hard.
I love this day because it's about joy. Joy is deeper than happiness or delight, and it has to come from something more than a good piece of chocolate or your favorite tv show. Joy breaks through the status quo to bring you to a new sense of self. In C.S. Lewis's spiritual autobiography Surprised by Joy he defines joy as almost an event that changes his perspective. It's the Holy Spirit making itself known in his life.
Last week, I talked about the "realness" of the season. That's another reason I love this Sunday: it's a reminder that in all this drudgery there is joy. Hope. We ARE looking forward to something, remember? This season is about the coming of Jesus! Rejoice! It is so easy to forget in the crunch time before Christmas. There are only 10 days left to finish your shopping, your crafts, your baking, your travel plans, and for students add finals. It is so easy to forget what, in this season of preparation, we are preparing for. The other important thing to be said about joy is that it is not exclusive. You can have joy AND be sad, or mad, or any of those emotions we like to not talk about. Joy does not have to deny suffering to exist; joy is found in those nuggets of hope that persist when everything else is pushing down. That pink candle is saying that the day isn't here yet, but it is coming. You are allowed to take a breath, discover your hope, and be joyful.
So here is Gaudate Sunday, dressed in pink, to say to you that the one who conquers death is coming, the one we've been waiting for, the New Star, the Light of the World, the Savior of Nations, yes, THAT guy. C'mon get happy, happy days are here again! That's right, "Forget your troubles, happy days, c'mon get happy, are here again, you better chase all your cares away, the skies above are clear again, shout Hallelujah, so let's sing a song, c'mon get happy, of cheer again, get ready for the judgement day, happy days are here again."
Advent Musical Reflection #4 :: 4th Week: "I Found a Reason" Cat Power
For this week, I picked a short song as this is a very short week of Advent! I specifically chose the Cat Power version, which is as much based on the Velvet Underground original as Disney's Pocahontas. (Confession: I knew this one first, thanks to a great mix from Elise Keeney.)
This song is simple, pared down, with only voice and minimal piano. We're at the end of our Advent journey; we've discussed, reflected, hosted parties, baked cookies, shopped, sang O Come O Come Emmanuel for four weeks. My reflections have gotten longer and longer, too - did you think you'd ever get to the end of last week's? Here I am saying, ignore the rest. This is it. At the end, intellectual posturing and grandstanding are meaningless; it's just you and God.
The Nativity is almost here. Last week I listed off names for Jesus that are grand and glorious. This week, I say just think of the baby, lying in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes. The baby Joseph was told in a dream to love. We might use that fancy-to-us sounding name of Emmanuel, if we remember all it means is "God with us." You and God.
So, as we approach Christmas, use this song as a prayer. Say that you Found a Reason. Put all your hurt, joy, love, pain, peace into these words: "I do believe in all the things you say. What comes is better than what came before. And you better run run, run run to me. Better run, run run, run run, to me. Better come, come come, come come to me. You'd better run."
Gasp! Modesty? Yes, modesty. It's a thing, and I'm for it.
This is a bit of a follow-up to my last post, and a bit not. In this article, I am going to speak about modesty of dress and not any other kinds. And yes, there are other kinds. I am going to reference #YesAllWomen again, but there are two main points I want to make here: 1. Modesty is important, and should be utilized by men and women. 2. Modesty should not be used as a flimsy excuse to oppress and attack women, and people who get angry about this sort of thing should not be surprised when women react so vehemently to the word.
1. Modesty is important.
Clothes are the first ways we communicate with the world. For good or bad, we constantly read into a person's personality by what they are wearing. Polo shirts and khaki's? Prep. All black and heavy eye makeup? Goth. Fitted jacket and pencil skirt? Professional. Daisy Dukes and a bikini top? Like she's not interested in protecting her reputation.
Of course, this doesn't tell the whole story of a person's life story and those assumptions could be wildly off-base. That's why Halloween is so fun - we get to tell a story with our clothes that is crazy. No matter how many times I wear my rainbow fairy wings, I will never be a fairy. It's something I've had to come to terms with, unfortunately. I won't go into the entire saga here, but I've had several personal struggles with the whole concept of our clothes saying everything about a person. That would be why every day in college I wore jeans and t-shirts and lamented the loss of my Catholic school uniform. (Uniforms are the best. The BEST.) Then I worked at Ann Taylor and obsessively watched What Not To Wear.
We DO live in a visual world and for the most part, clothes are designed to bring attention to ourselves. Why not? I don't want to wear shapeless brown clothing all the time - I love color and jewelry and I like to draw attention to the parts of me I think look the best. Is that vanity? Maybe. I try to balance that desire with no-make-up days and sweatpants days and cultivating-the-other-parts-of-myself-that-have-nothing-to-do-with-how-I-look days. Back to clothes, though, they do say something about you, and people will look if you are visually telling them to. Ask any advertiser - changes in shape or texture cause the eye to travel there. People cannot help but look where an arrow points, and a v-neck is basically an arrow to your cleavage, or muscular pecs if you're a guy. (not that I have anything against v-necks, but there is a point of no return) If you have words on your butt I'm going to read them and if you're wearing a speedo I'm going to try my best but no guarantees. Gentlemen, I don't know if you heard that you are more visual than women - I did, and I have no idea how that's measured, but I will tell you I'm a very visual person. If you run around without a shirt, I will look.
Yes, modesty is important for both men and women. It is important insofar as clothes are important. They are the first way we communicate with the world, and dressing modestly communicates that you have more to offer the world than your body. I'm not talking about shapeless brown sackcloth, but wearing shirts when you run and skirts that cover more than crack. In the perfect world it would not matter what you wore, because we would not judge people on how they look and if we lived in perfect innocence and love, we would not need to wear anything! (Thanks a lot, Tree of Knowledge)
2. Modesty should not be used as a flimsy excuse to oppress and attack women.
I mentioned men and women in my discussion above of modesty, but how often does that happen? Usually if someone is encouraging modesty, they are talking to women. Why? Because we put so much stock in the myth that men are visually and sexually driven animals with no self-control and women's bodies cause that carnal lust to overpower them. I hope men are as offended by that myth as women are. It's degrading to everybody. Remember that definition of feminism from my last post? “both a coordinated set of ideas and a practical plan of action, rooted in women’s critical awareness of how a culture controlled in meaning and action by men, for their own advantage, oppresses women and dehumanizes men.”
Here I want to reference this great article Women Swiftly Running Out of Things that Aren't Sexy. Her main point is that even when we talk about modesty and being more than your sexuality, we sexualize it. Phrases like "modest is hottest" still sexualizes modesty. Why can't we say "modest is prudent?" I know it doesn't rhyme, but if you're going to go around telling women they can be smart, you can just let them be smart. They don't have to be sexy-smart.
To go a step farther, I'm going to quote a very good friend of mine who is a priest. He once told me, "I will never tell a woman how to dress." It was a bit shocking, because I've always heard rules on dressing from my Christian leadership. He was acknowledging and respecting the history that dress regulations have had in respect to women. Dress has always been restricted for women. It was a way to oppress them - there are certain actions you just can't do in skirts that touch the floor. It was a symbol of dainty weakness. Women who dared to wear the garb of men were burned, stoned, shunned. I say once again, clothes are important.
When women say that dressing scantily or going to a nude beach was "liberating," they are not being purposefully difficult or lying. I have no doubt it was liberating. Women live in a world where they will be sexualized and objectified no matter what they are wearing. By virtue of being female, a woman knows she is in constant danger of lewd comments, looks, and violence. Wearing something revealing makes her feel in control of this. If it's going to happen no matter what, she might as well give it a direction, one she has control over. I'm not saying that's true for every woman, but it's probably true for several.
The cops who asked me "Well, what were you wearing?" when I reported an attack and attempted rape. #YesAllWomen
— Aimee Mann (@aimeemann) May 25, 2014
This is the most horrifying stage of ill-used and misunderstood modesty - that a woman's dress caused a man's violence. Stories like this one popped up all over the #YesAllWomen tweets, and victim shaming is more common than anyone would like to believe. While as I discussed before, certain dress might garner looks it can never invite violence. I'm thinking of the Still Not Asking For It campaign, where protesting women dress... however they want. Full hijab, a pair of panties and pasties, the clothes they were wearing when they were sexually assaulted and asserting that no matter what they could possibly be wearing, that in no way means attacks are their fault. Would you blame a mugging victim because they had money? An arson victim because they owned flammable things? Of course not. But female victims are blamed for assaults because of their clothes. Clothes are important, but not that important.
So please, dress modestly. I'm talking to you ladies - get shorts long enough to actually cover part of your leg. Gentlemen, pull up your pants. You look dumb. Invest in a belt. Encourage others to do the same, but when you do remember what people could hear when you speak.
Because this got heavy and I like to end on a high note, here's a little something I treat myself to every Halloween.
A few weeks ago Twitter exploded with #YesAllWomen. If you’re
unfamiliar, I’ll try to be brief for all of you who are well-aware. The
#NotAllMen was started as a response by men to women discussing the trials of
being female in a patriarchal society. Well-meaning, defensive men popped up
with “not all of us! Some of us are nice!” To which women said, “Duh. Thanks for
once again underestimating our intelligence and making this discussion about
you.” While #NotAllMen are misogynists, #YesAllWomen suffer from misogyny.
Then, the shooting in California happened and the discussion became so much
more than internet comments. And the #YesAllWomen the movement was born, and
women all over the world shared their 140-character stories about fear, rape,
sexual assault, microaggressions, professional slights, sexualized comments and
actions. You can read some great ones here.
Since Twitter trends of this magnitude make the internet
explode, there were blog posts everywhere, and I voraciously read each one. I
wrote some of my own #YesAllWomen tweets, which you can read @DeathsharkMcGee.
I like to send a few links each week on my parent newsletter, with hot topics
in parenting, faith, technology, and/or teenagers. I was looking for something
good on #YesAllWomen from a Christian perspective, and all I got was one
feminist rant by a Christian and one anti-feminist rant by a Christian. I was
looking for, of course, a Christian feminist rant.
Wait! I hear you call – Christian feminist? That’s a thing?
I thought all feminists were man-hating atheists! I will admit to you all that
in my college conservative phase, I disavowed the word “feminist,” not
understanding its true definition. Now I’m trying to make up for my lack of judgment.
I am going to posit to you something shocking: that to be a good Christian, you
must be a feminist.
Let’s review the definition of feminism, since it seems to
have taken on a completely different connotation than its denotation these
days:
Feminism: “both a coordinated set of ideas and a practical
plan of action, rooted in women’s critical awareness of how a culture
controlled in meaning and action by men, for their own advantage, oppresses
women and dehumanizes men.” – Joann Wolski Conn
Hopefully, now, the picture of what I am trying to say is
taking shape. One of the most paramount fixtures of Christianity and
particularly Catholicism (which names herself universal) is community. In the
Gospels and in Paul’s writings we are constantly told to take care of the community
and that much like the armed forces or poorly designed education legislature,
no one is left behind.
Matthew 25:40 “‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one
of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” (If you
don’t think women count as “the least,” read some more #yesallwomen tweets)
1 Corinthians 12:24b-26 “But God has put the body together,
giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no
division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each
other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored,
every part rejoices with it.” Read the whole passage and tell me not to take care of 50% of our body.
Galatians 3:26-28 “So in Christ Jesus you are all children
of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed
yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor
free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”
And as the ever-liturgical musician, I am going to point to
the most universal of English-speaking Catholic songs: “One Bread, One Body” which is dripping
with communal language.
I have been thinking about this blog post for a long time
and avoiding the actual writing, but now I’m glad I waited this long. This past
Sunday was Trinity Sunday, where we contemplate the mind-boggling mystery of
triune monotheism. Three persons, one God... a community. Yes, even our God is
a community in a constant dance visceral love. #YesAllWomen and feminism is not
just about women. It’s about being a community of love. If one part suffers,
the whole body suffers. And we just witnessed thousands of tweets testifying to
the fact that not one part, but half the body is suffering. More than that, if
you consider the male and female children of a mother who is not being paid the
same wage as her male counterpart. More if you recognize the ugly suffering
that causes someone to perpetrate a crime of hate and control, which is what
sex crimes are. More when a boy is teased and called a “girl” or a couple of
other rude words I will not dignify by typing here. More when a boy is told to
“be a man,” and he learned. So yes, the whole body is suffering.
There is more I could say, like if you want to bring up
Ephesians 5 I’m going to make you read me the passage again and ask you to tell
me how loving and laying down your life for your wife means that you are
supposed to own her or the Catechism passage that reads “Man and woman are both
with one and the same dignity ‘in the image of God,’” (CCC369) but I’m sure
you’re ready to stop reading this and start being a Christian feminist.
Since my initial search, I tried again and found a smidgen
more posts about Christianity and #YesAllWomen. They are definitely worth
reading.
For some reason, I can't embed the video I want. So, click the link to listen to the song!
If you have started to listen to the song, you have realized that there are no words! That's right, I'm challengin' y'all to stretch your music appreciation muscles. You can do it. I believe that each and every one of you can listen to a 7 minute and 24 second song without any words. I believe in you. Also, Easter Sunday is nearly over. You are thinking to yourself, "Carol, how could you wait this long to give us your Easter reflection? The masses are clamoring for it!" Well...
Happy Easter to you! Alleluia Alleluia! Like most of you I celebrated by hosting friends at my apartment. That means I had lots to do today besides write - like cleaning. We all know my house isn't naturally clean. Easter is a celebration of phenomenal proportions. Alleluia is our acclamation and our adjective; it is the only word appropriate for the joy that bursts with the knowledge that our God lives. From here I could go on a lot of tangents, but one of the reasons I chose this song is that sometimes the best expressions of ourselves do not use words. Anyone who has studied linguistics knows the limitations of English, and therefore the limitations of any language. Language is representative and therefore never completely accurate.
So my presentation to you is this song, which from the title implies a journey. (there is also a pt. 2, I highly recommend it) I think it gives a wonderful journey through the Easter story. From here on, I will use time indicators to let you know where in the song I am referring. We can go on together.
START
"...Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark, and saw the stone removed from the tomb." (today's Gospel, from John)
This section of the song is soft and quiet and a little trepidatious. Every account of the resurrection starts with women going to his tomb early in the morning. They are sad, they are going with the burden of anointing the body of their teacher. And then they arrive and the stone is rolled back and no one is around. What could it mean? They go back to the men who are just as mystified as they are. The music starts to get a more hopeful quality after a couple minutes; "For they did not yet understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead." They had to feel something stirring, though. Something like the feeling you get when you know something is about to happen. You don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing, but you know it's coming.
3:05
"Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went away quickly from the tomb,fearful yet overjoyed, and ran to announce the news to his disciples." (tomorrow's Gospel, from Matthew)
Doesn't this section sound like joyful running? Though it's not really a dancing song, this section always makes me want to get up and dance. It only gets stronger as it goes - the other disciples meet the risen Jesus and the group grows who know he is alive. JESUS IS RISEN! Run joyfully! Tell all! I don't know if you get this feeling, but I look over my last few sentences and they seem trite. They are words that have been spoken so many times that when I repeat them they mean less. Thank goodness for music, amirite?
6:14
"Then some of those with us went to the tomb and found things just as the women had described, but him they did not see.” (Wednesday's Gospel, from Luke)
The song ends a little bittersweet, with the same motif as the beginning. It's definitely hopeful, but subdued and with a few notes of indecision. The disciples were left with a strong now what? feeling. Many wanted to believe, but let's face it, the story is ridiculous, nevermind it was told by a bunch of women. Risen from the dead? What does that even mean? That's not something people do. That kind of power, over life and death, is terrifying. If it's true, what does this mean about their dear friend and teacher? And what are they supposed to do?
So here at the tail end of Easter Sunday, I leave you with that question. We've eaten our ham, drank our wine, gone to church for four days in a row. We feel good because Easter gives you warm fuzzies and if the weather was anything like it was here near you it was impossible not to smile. If we really believe the Easter story, we really believe our God is a living God, one who conquered death for the love of us, what do we do now?
I think the connection between this song and Holy Saturday is obvious from the title. Holy Saturday is, after all, the day of waiting. The disciples were waiting to find out what happened next. Even though Jesus told them he was coming back several times, those of us who work with humans know they are terrible listeners.
I've always been fascinated by Holy Saturday, mostly because it gets overlooked and I'm a sucker for the underdog. In terms of Johnson's mission, being in Holy Saturday is that liminal space between your suffering and your resurrection. Between being hurt and being free. You could think of it like physical therapy after an injury - you're well, but not yet completely back on your feet. Johnson told the story of this sculptor and his piece "Shattered but Still Whole." That is a Holy Saturday sculpture.
The image of the tomb comes to my mind. There you are, back to life, but not yet ready to roll the stone away and step outside. You could be waiting for someone to roll that stone away for you, or you could be working up the courage to push it back yourself. I find myself living in this space pretty often. It takes a lot of bravery to step into the sun. If you find yourself in this space, ask yourself why you are there. Are you afraid of what's out there? Or are you waiting patiently until you are healthy enough to move on?
Murdoch's song has a beautiful litany of why he is in this space: "And If I stumble, and if I stall / And if I slip now, and if I should fall / And if I can't be, all that I could be..." Aren't we often afraid to step out of the tomb for fear that we can't be all that we can be? Or, all that we were before? After all, going through a Good Friday changes, transforms you. It can be scary accepting that you might be different. Jesus was very different after the resurrection. He had a functioning, human body like before but he was different enough his disciples did not recognize him on the road to Emmaus. Different enough to retain holes in his hands and appear in locked rooms. I imagine this transformation was bittersweet for Jesus. He had conquered death and saved all of humanity in a matter of hours, but maybe he sat in the tomb wondering if his friends would still love him this way. If they would still be able to joke around a campfire. If children would still want to run to him.
If you haven't noticed in these reflections, I keep pushing the idea of community. I am Catholic, after all - community is the basis of most of our theology. Holy Saturday can't be alone. Being alone in that space has to be unbearable; the disciples waited with each other. Jesus waited with his Father, who was closer to him than ever. We wait with close friends, family, spouses, the people we don't lie to on the internet. The end of Murdoch's song is a plea for community: "Will you wait for me?" Will you wait with me?
Tonight is liturgically the best night of the whole calendar. All the best things about ritual are brought together: movement, sights, sounds, smells, textures. We get the huge Easter candle dipped in the water, the marriage of fire and water, the passing of light and fire to each other, processing around the church, welcoming new brothers and sisters to the community. Oil, water, fire, smoke, fragrance, music, light, high drama - opening the tomb. We wait together, in anticipation, feeling "on the verge of some great truth."
"Am I the Only One (Who's Ever Felt this Way)" by the Dixie Chicks
Oh yes, the Dixie Chicks. This is from their first album, and "Wide Open Spaces" notwithstanding it is probably the best of the collection. Some of those songs don't hold up sixteen years later. However, this one I still rock out to; it has a permanent place on my "Angry Apple Cider" playlist.
When I listen to this song I feel anger, desperation, loneliness, sadness - the emotions of Good Friday. I will grant you this song is definitely about lost romantic love, but no matter what the reasons for our heartbreak haven't we all looked in the mirror and said, "one more smile's all I can fake?" If you draw a line from Gethsemane to Golgotha, Jesus holds all those emotions inside as each step he takes leads to destruction.
Going back to the parish mission, Johnson's words about Good Friday were to help us recognize our own Good Fridays and to see why we would call them "Good." The reason why songs about heartbreak are so loved is because it's an emotion everyone has experienced. People have let us down, have lied, have done physical or emotional violence to us. Loved ones have died. We've received news of the worst kind. We've sat on the floor of our kitchen crying at 2 a.m. because that's the only logical option... maybe that last one's just me, but I doubt it.
Jesus had plenty of these moments; sweating blood in the garden, falling the first, second and third times, killed by people he would have loved had he been given the chance. We all isolate ourselves in our misery. While Jesus trusted God he still felt alone, abandoned by his dearest friends. It's always when we feel most alone that we most need someone there, right?
Thank goodness for Jesus and country music, or that loneliness would never go away. Jesus has walked that terrifying, lonely, grasping path and walks all our terrifying, lonely, grasping paths with us. There is no good in suffering but when it draws us together. We can trust Jesus with our pain because he's been there. One of the great things about music is the communal aspect. We love certain songs because they express emotions we can't on our own - and that means that the composer felt those things. Everyone who buys that song on iTunes feels them, too. I won't lie to y'all, my Good Friday song is probably always going to be a country song. In the words of Xander Harris, "I'm going to listen to country music. The music of pain."
If you've heard me talk about Florence and the Machine before, you know that I am convinced that she writes her songs about the Sacraments. If you remember, "Dog Days are Over" was last year's Easter song, as it is definitely about the Paschal mystery. Then, "Shake It Out" (Reconciliation) came out, followed by "What the Water Gave Me." I'll grant you it's a stretch, but with a title like that how could it not be about Baptism? I tried to make "Kiss with a Fist" about Confirmation, since back in the day the bishop would slap you, but I don't think it works. Hey, no metaphor is perfect.
So today I bring you "You Got the Love," which is obviously about Eucharist. The Eucharist is a Sacrament of Initiation, but unlike the other two (Baptism and Confirmation) you can receive it every day if you so choose. Sacraments of Initiation pull you into the church community; the love and support found there is all yours for the taking! (That's why it's called Communion) They envelop us in the signs of God's love on Earth.
Let's get back to the song. It starts and ends with "Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air... Sometimes I feel like saying 'Lord, I just don't care'" And sometimes we do. Look at the verses - she's saying she often has bouts of despair where everything seems wrong and she's drowning in misery. We all have days, weeks, months like that. It seems the only feasible option is to give up.
At this year's parish mission where I work our speaker was Dr. Terry Nelson Johnson. He asked us to define our lives in terms of the Paschal Mystery - am I feeling Holy Thursday today? Going through that was Good Friday for me... etc. For Holy Thursday he defined it in terms of hunger and feeding. What feeds us? What are we hungry for? The woman in the song is hungry for comfort and love. (Who isn't? I mean, I'm on OkCupid for goodness's sake) Fortunately, she knows where to get it.
Love is of course the point of the Paschal Mystery, but it is showed in a special way today. We have the kind of love that causes a man to wash his disciples' feet. The kind of love it takes to change the diaper of a mewling baby or vacant parent. The kind of love it takes to walk into certain death. The kind of love it takes to commit completely to another person.
I cannot remember the quote now nor can I find it on a quick Google search, but one of my professors brought it up in class one day: that one of the great tragedies of our lives is that we cannot love God as much as God loves us. And we can't, it's impossible. That could be sad thought or it could bring an incredible amount of comfort - that there is an unimaginable amount of love freely given to us at any time. On this night of love and service, Jesus institutes the Eucharist. A physical meal that is viscerally his love. We can receive it everyday.
"When food is gone you are my daily meal / When friends are gone I know my Saviour's love is real / You know it's real" We DO know it's real - isn't that what we say about the Eucharist? That's it is REALLY the Body and Blood of Jesus? We hunger for God's love and it's not easy to always see or feel it. We have to come back and come back and come back. So you can be initiated again and again by eating this meal, this sign of love. After all, God's "got the love I need to see me through."
I've had an interesting past couple days, centered around my friend who has decided he's currently Jewish. (I know he'll protest to that statement, but c'mon, two weeks ago he was Catholic. A few months ago, Mormon. He tends to flip around among them.) I don't have any problems switching religions if that is where your spiritual journey leads you, I want to make that clear. I just have to give him a hard time.
Yesterday, we visited the Illinois Holocaust Museum in Skokie together. It was an intense experience for both of us. For him, who has relatives who died and survived the camps, I can only guess the impact of what we saw and learned there. I can tell you I felt compelled to comfort a lot. For me, the experience was... horrifying. It's hard to imagine the kind of institutional and insidious hate that led to mass murder, and the fact that there are parts of the world where genocide still exists. All of us can think of a person in our lives who would have been a target of the Nazis. And we are also left with the question: Would I have fought this horrifying injustice? Or would I have taken the nationalistic feel-good propaganda at face value and turned away from the truth? It's a scary and uncomfortable question, but one worth asking.
This morning I attended Torah study with the same friend. It was a beautiful experience. I was struck, like every time I study Judaism or the Hebrew Bible, how we as Catholics ripped off so much from the Jewish tradition. Of course, I don't think it's "ripping off," but reverencing the tradition we evolved from, the tradition our Savior loved and practiced, and the tradition established by our Creator, Adonai, YHWH. The first forty minutes of study was chanting in Hebrew, largely from psalms and prophets. (I have to say, my Hebrew was not too shabby. I mumbled a lot, but surprisingly little for a goy like me) It reminded me of praying liturgy of the hours in a community where the psalms are chanted. There were even a few prayers in common, though it was hard for me to keep up with chanting the Hebrew and reading the English translations.
We then read from Leviticus and did some reading of commentary and discussion. It was fantastic - I can't say anything we read or talked about goes against any Christian theology I know. In fact, it was just fun to put my head back in that academic scripture commentary space again. We even drank grape juice and broke bread. Then we ended with some more chanting. In case you're curious, I highly recommend listening to a little Hebrew chant sometime; it's much more melodic than our Gregorian form.
It's comforting to me that we have so much in common. One of the things I love about Catholicism is the long tradition - sure, our Mass has evolved over time, but the essentials are the same as the house churches that met before Christianity was the king's religion. To experience something that goes even further back but no less important to our salvation history brings the past forward. I feel connected. The God of our fathers, our mothers, walking with them and with us. The group I was with was in anticipation of Passover, and I was in anticipation of Holy Week. Our holiest of weeks are still the same week, and both are about liberation. That's the kind of connection I can sink my teeth into.
A couple years ago, I started the tradition of making Triduum and Easter musical reflections and posting them to my Facebook page. (this past year I also did an Advent one for each week) This year, I'm going to post them both places. I thought I would kick off by re-posting my reflections from last year. Yes, I know I haven't posted anything in a long time. I hope you all still enjoy it!
Carol's Musical Triduum Reflection #1: Holy Thursday | Jealous of the Moon
While taking in the sad and hopeful tone of this song, listen to the lyrics and meditate on the person of Jesus. Tonight he gave his dearest friends the gift of the Eucharist, and they could not understand what he was trying to say. They would deny him and run away. In Jesus' darkest hour, pleading with God, his friends would fall asleep. Today and tomorrow we see Jesus at both his most human. At the bridge of the song, listen as though Jesus is speaking those words to you: "Why don't you call me, I can save you. Together we'll find a god we can pray to, that will take you by the hand." Jesus can save you. He can help you find a god to pray to - the same One he prayed to in the garden. Jesus has been in the dark place when all friends seem gone or useless and the future is terrifying. I always think of the sorrow in ALW's interpretation of the quote from Luke: "Judas, must you betray me with a kiss?" (JCS) When have you been afraid of the future? When have you been frustrated or betrayed by the people who care about you? When have you denied the truth to live in something more comfortable? What does the gift of the Eucharist mean to you?
*Remember, of course, that Nickel Creek didn't write this song about Holy Thursday. If you try to apply every word with a specific meaning, you'll just confuse yourself. No metaphor is perfect.
Carol's Musical Triduum Reflection #2: Good Friday | Man in Black
It's Good Friday. We're fasting, and giving that money to feed others. We're abstaining from meat in solidarity with those who live without every day. At service today we venerate the cross and chant our intentions. On this day more than most others we connect the death of Jesus with the suffering of the world. Our rituals make the day more present to us. Here we bring our sufferings to the cross. I'm not going to pretend to give the meaning of Christ's suffering or of anyone's suffering in this humble little reflection; there is no way I can give answers. I don't have them. But today, instead of finding distractions or justifications for our pains and deaths and the suffering in our lives and around the world, let's look it in the face. Let's do what Jesus did who could have easily gotten out of a grisly death but decided to face it to make the world better. In the song, JR is making us look. We have created so much to distract us from the dirty, the unpleasant. Every once and a while, we have to embrace the messiness and pain of death. "But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back, up front there ought to be a man in black." There's Jesus on the cross, up front, in black, reminding us of those we ignore. How do we distract ourselves from seeing what we need to see? What is the hardest thing to look at for you? What can we do to make it better?
Carol's Musical Triduum Reflection #3: Holy Saturday | The Weary Kind (sorry so late!)
Tonight is our longest, most sacred liturgy. I just had the pleasure of singing in our excellent choir for it. It is full of drama and theatrics and intense spiritual statements of who we are as Christians. Before all that drama, however, is a whole day of waiting. I think of the disciples, confused, afraid, waiting for someone to tell them what to do. Their beloved leader is dead and buried. They are supposed to be in the midst of their holiest of days and yet they cannot enjoy their rituals. For those of us who know the story, we are waiting with baited breath. The day has a feel like the few hours before dawn when darkness and quietness envelops everything. We wait and prepare. The disciples' waiting was filled with fear and uncertainty. Our waiting is full of anticipation. We have waited so long and waded through the dreariness of life to get to the resurrection moment. This kind of waiting takes endurance. "This ain't no place for the weary kind, this ain't no place to loose your mind. This ain't no place to fall behind. Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try." What are you waiting for? What does the resurrection bring you? What is worth waiting for?
Carol's Easter Musical Reflection: Easter Sunday | The Dog Days are Over
My advice? Play the video and dance to the song. Then come back and read this reflection and play the song again. While I struggled picking songs for the Triduum, particularly Friday, this one was a no-brainer. I am inclined just to put the lyrics up here and let you all go. But let's look at the first lines: "Happiness hit her like a train on the track ... no turning back" For the women who went to the tomb they were told their messiah was risen. What an astounding, unbelievable announcement! To be filled with even the strangest hope after everything good died! One of my favorite things about this song is that there is a point when you think it is over. It fades out, there is a pause, and then it starts up rejoicing again. There is a surprise that carries the song further. Today is a surprise of the best kind. Today is Christmas morning and a birthday party and your lover giving you flowers all in one. "The strife is o'er, the battle done!" "The dog days are over! The dog days are all done! The horses are coming so you better run!" And those women, blessed with the message, did run. They ran back to their friends and told them the good news: our Josh is alive! Of course, no one believed them, so they all started to run to find out for themselves. This is good news! Don't walk or crawl to share it! Run! "Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father, run for you children for your sisters and brothers!" Leave it all behind and rejoice as you run! What is worth dancing for? What is worth being excited? How have you been, in the words of C.S. Lewis, surprised by joy?
