Advent Musical Reflection #1 :: 1st Week: "Get Ready" The Temptations

The readings today are all about being prepared for the coming of the day of the Lord. The first reading says

"They shall beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks;
one nation shall not raise the sword against another,
nor shall they train for war again." (Is 2:4)

Exciting prospect, right? We've been through so much fighting lately. We have acts of terrorism being perpetrated every day; the biggest story of the last week was tips on how to have a peaceful post-election Thanksgiving. Or, if you should even try. 

The readings today also call us to joy. The responsorial psalm today is "Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord." (Ps 122) With these thoughts of getting ready with joy, I settled on "Get Ready." Yes, it is definitely a song about pursuing a woman, but if we blink past a few lyrics we have the heart of Advent:

"So, fee-fi-fo-fum
Look out baby, 'cause here I come"

Jesus is coming! Get ready!

"And I'm bringing you a love that's true
So get ready, so get ready
I'm gonna try to make you love me too
So get ready, so get ready 'cause here I come"

Advent is about preparing for the coming of Jesus. It is a penitential season, hence the purple, just like Lent. But it is joyful. When I anticipate something good, I get a gearing-up, rolling-forward feeling right at the base of my ribcage. Advent is that feeling - anticipating not just something good, but the best thing. Our Light of the World, Emmanuel (God-with-us), Divine Love, Savior of the World.

The Sunday after the election the priest giving the homily made sure to talk about our Savior. Our Savior is not a politician. Our Savior is not a winner. Our Savior is not a loser. No person who holds office can save us. No person can save us. Only our God, ever present in perfect, sacrificial love, can save us. That story of salvation starts with the event we are preparing for: The Nativity of the Lord. (one could easily say, and I will agree with you, that salvation history starts long before then. That is true. But I mean, specifically here, the story of Jesus.)

In the song, the singer wants to build anticipation. He wants to race to the object of his affection, and overwhelm her with his eagerness. He still tells her to prepare, however. "Here I come," he says. He's "bringing you a love that's true," and he's "gonna try to make you love me too," but offers no specifics on how she should go about doing that. How does one prepare for that?

There are the questions for reflection: How do you prepare for a love that's true? 

How do you get ready for a love that saves? 

10 Minute* Christmas Reflection

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

Advent Musical Reflection #4 :: 4th Week: "Shake Me Down" Cage the Elephant

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.

So keep hope. The Light of the World is coming.

Advent Musical Reflection #2 :: 2nd Week: "Open" Regina Spektor

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..."

Advent Musical Reflection #1 :: 1st Week: "America" Simon and Garfunkel

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?

Last Year's Advent Musical Reflections

Here they are, all my musical reflections from last Advent. Use them again, or refresh your memory. This year's start tomorrow!

Advent Musical Reflection #1 :: 1st Week: "Generations" Fr. Kent O'Connor (music)

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.


Advent Musical Reflection #2 :: 2nd Week: "Laughing With" Regina Spektor

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."

Advent Musical Reflection #3 :: 3rd Week Gaudate Sunday: "Get Happy/Happy Days" Pink Martini fr. Rufus Wainwright

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."

Carol's Musical Easter Reflection: Easter Sunday | Sinai to Canaan, Pt. 1

"Sinai to Canaan, pt. 1" by Chris Thile

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?

Carol's Triduum Music Reflection #3: Holy Saturday | Wait

"Wait" by Alexi Murdoch

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."

Carol's Music Triduum Reflection #2: Good Friday | Am I The Only One (Who's Ever Felt This Way)

"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."

Carol's Music Triduum Reflection #1 :: Holy Thursday | You Got the Love

"You Got the Love" by Florence and the Machine

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."