To choose or not to choose...

Refusing to chose is a choice.

A group in Austria has published seven recommended changes to how the Catholic Church should function. I like the list. Their website has a guest book. Seeking some tool of procrastination, I wrote something there rather than here. Efficiency being holy, I'm writing here, too. It took a while, since I wrote it in German. One point I made, however, is that over the past 2,000 years the Church has changed; yet we still hold ourselves to be "one holy, catholic, and apostolic church". Of course these words come from the Nicean Creed, which any long-term Catholic knows. However, at this point, since I certainly don't know the Creed -or any other part of the Mass in German other than the offering of Peace - and wished to use that wording in writing to a bunch of German-speaking priests, I sought the text auf deutsch on that wonder of wonders, Wikipedia.

My education for the day: The American Catholic Church uses the Nicean Creed accepted in 381; the German Catholic Church uses the original version from 325. I didn't realize there was more than one. I like ours better. I'm actually quite surprised at how very close the current version is to the one from more than 1700 years ago.
The German ends with We believe in the Holy Spirit [boooooring], with nothing about Her role in our faith.
Ours ends with We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the Giver of Life, who proceeds from the Father, with the Father and Son She is worshipped and glorified, She has spoken through the prophets. We believe in one holy, catholic, and apostolic church. We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. [perhaps long-winded, but at least comprehensive in highlighting many of the differences with the evangelical/pentacostal sects]

As much as I approve of the social justice policies of the US Council of Catholic Bishops, they fall prey to the same limited vision as their fellows in the Vatican. The USCCB is changing the official text for the Celebration of the Eucharist (ie., Mass). I'm torn between thinking change is ok, after all, that's what I want the church to do and thinking "this sounds stupid and has no apparent purpose other than being closer to the old-fashioned version pre-Vatican 2 text". Here we go, back to mea maxima culpa. The new Gloria sucks. Just sucks. The only exception to my disregard of the new text is that the end of the Nicean Creed uses the first person, "I believe / I confess / I look". I confess I like the fact it makes the profession my personal. I really want to know who voted against the changes (173-29).

So, how badly do I think it sucks? How much is the change going to influence my decision to attend Mass? Will I go to the physical building, leave Mr. Gopher with the Jr. Gophers in our regular pew and go read a book in the social hall? Or sit there in silence? Yes, I'm emotionally attached to the current version. I've used it for the past 45 years. I have sympathy for the people who were confronted with the changes from the 2nd Vatican Council. But those changes were made to keep people in the church and to involve The People in the Mass.

What do these new changes provide?
a) A power trip for the Bishops to remind us of who has the power?
b) A sincere belief that the changes from Vatican 2 were detrimental to the pious and devout expression of our fidelity to the dictates of Jesus to achieve the Salvation promised by the Messiah?
c) Stupidity?
d) All of the Above?

Would I stop going to church because of these impending changes? I suppose it says something about my devotion to the holy Church of Rome that my answer is: hmmmm... I'm not sure.

Does the form of the Mass have such a big impact on enjoying it? Should enjoyment be a criteria for going to Mass? The annoyingly conservative parishes use the same words we do. It is, in part, what makes the church universal.

I go to Mass and belong to a Catholic parish when my adherence to the Church's teachings is at times tenuous. Why? The same reason I belong to the Green Party: no one has it all right. I'll pick the one that has the greatest proportion of what I think is right. The willingness of local parishes to pursue good works tips the scales. Does that make the Church a social organization? At times I think people look more at what their parish is doing, and consider a generic "Christianity requires us to do Good Works, I'm doing good, therefore I'm fulfilling my requirement as a Christian" to be the only justification for belonging to a specific denomination.

Yes, I realize being a member of a religious group is voluntary and if a person doesn't like it, one can leave.

I was confirmed my last year at university, when I was 21. I was questioning my choice to continue to return to the Roman Catholic church. There was, after all, no pressure from anyone to belong to any church. One evening at Mass, I paid more attention to the check list presented by the Nicean Creed: one god, check - creator of all, check - Jesus son of god, check - messiah, check... and so on. At the end I decided that I could agree with all of them as the core items of faith. Everything else is optional. Question answered.

I know so many Catholics who don't want to stop being catholic, but are frustrated by (i.e., fed up beyond human comprehension with) the Church's apparent blatant refusal to accept that any of the social changes of the last, say, 500 years are beneficial. The moral choices before us today may be the same (abortion, extramarital sex, divorce), but the social context in which those choices are encountered is different than it was 1500 years ago. Or 500 years ago. Hell, it's different than it was 50 years ago. e.g., Did the church want to know that Mr.Gopher and I were living in consensually blissful sin for a few months before getting married? No. 50 years ago we would not have moved in together before the wedding, even if we were ignoring the prohibition against pre-marital sex. Did we want children before we said "I do"? No. Did it happen? No. Why not? The genetic lottery wasn't selling tickets back then.

Birth control is almost universally ignored by young (or middle-aged) (or older) (hell, maybe all) Catholics. I don't accept the theological conclusions about why it's wrong. If virginity and the absence of sperm does not present an insurmountable barrier to the Almighty, a little bit of fragile latex shouldn't either. Theological flippance aside, it boils down to a question of who gets to choose when I have children: me or God. Why shouldn't I? Because God knows best seems equally flippant. The Jr.Gophers both spent a few months lobbying for a little sister. I had to explain to them that we thought 2 was a nice number for us. Tubal ligation isn't really in their vocabulary yet.

The boys in Rome present a bureaucratic and human (not divine) obstruction to our method of worship. The church runs on theology; theology is simply the human conclusions about what they think god is/wants/means.

I know many who have changed their relationship with the church; we just accept that the bunch of old men over in Rome are ignorant of the beliefs that we, the Faithful, have while concurrently refusing to accept that we should participate in any meaningful way in developing the Church's theology. I simply cannot imagine anyone, not one single person in the Vatican actually giving a damn about my opinion about theology. I could tell them Jesus Christ, Son of God was the Messiah and they wouldn't care.

A 2nd Reformation is not out of the possibilities for the Church. I'm sure they didn't think the first one would happen. I'm sure they don't think another could. I'm not familiar with the popular sentiment in Luther's era (the 95 Theses were written in 1517), but where would you go, if you refuted the Church of Rome in the 16th Century? You'd likely be socially ostracized, rejected by your family and friends. Today? Few would care. No one would even know outside of your immediate circle of friends.

The Church has a choice: they can change their relationship with me (us), or they can stay the same without me.

I have a choice before me: change my relationship with God or change my relationship with the Church. I can no longer be faithful to both.

Parental Rejection

The Author posed the question about a person who was becoming more reclusive and socially/emotionally strange:

"...Where was the trusted person who could tell him it wasn’t a good idea, ..."

I would also ask:

Who benefited from his bad choices?
I wish I could recall which novel I read, but a central point was that a powerful figure is manipulated to the benefit of another via his bad choices.

Of course, if you don't trust anyone, it's hard to benefit from their loving/unloving advice.

Sometimes it's easier to not give advice. My older son is old enough to really resent some of my edicts (chocolate chex is the current issue). It would be soooo easy to just cave in & buy a box to get him off my case. He doesn't know enough about life to understand either my reasoning or understand the idea that he needs to trust someone else's reasoning. Many parents want to be loved by their children without realizing this is *not* synonymous with being liked by one's progeny. They cave in in order to be 'liked'.

I can easily see someone else with a weak personal security wanting to give Jackson good advice and fearing to do so, in fear of losing his good opinion. Which rejection, in an adult, easily transmits to losing personal contact.

Becoming a parent has drastically enlightened me into the idea of seeing God as a parental figure. Christianity (at least my flavor of it) teaches that God is all loving; that you cannot make God stop loving you; that Her love is always there. I struggle to recall this when I have to deal with my own children.

People find themselves in such a totally screwed up point in their lives that they cannot believe that God could still love them. They then refuse to ask for God's help, fearing an active rejection without realizing there won't be any. A real parent, admittedly, is far more likely to reject a child. Even if they weren't, the child could easily fear rejection so much that they never ask for help.

The same applies to adults. Perhaps Jackson realized how totally screwed up his life had become and feared the loss of public/friends approval, so he didn't change his path. It's better to screw up your life than to realize the decision you made to fix it actually resulted in losing your friends, even if your life is otherwise better for the change you made.

I can look at my parents (and spouse now), and realize that they may not always like my decisions or my choices. My parents probably care just as much about me loving them as they always did. Me being an adult doesn't change that (I hope). I will always desire my children's love. Consequently, I need to take the risk of them disliking me or even [esp. in adolescence] rejecting me.

Bumper Sticker of the Month (sort of)

so this is a while afterwards, but still funny:

Signs @ Rally for Sanity:

Sure there are more, but I don't want to go back through all of the ones I read, so here's a limited selection:

I came here Illegally. I went 5 mph over the limit on I-95

If you don't want the 1st Amendment, you can't have the 2nd.

I screwed you all, but thanks for blaming the black guy. w/Bush photo.

Really must see the photo.

I can't put the math symbols here, so just click here.

I have no problem paying taxes because I'm an adult and that's part of the deal
I'm ok with the mosque - but WalMart really scares me

If screaming makes you right ... the 3-year old won the street is a friggin' genius

I wouldn't presume to tell God who He hates.

Another sign you just have to see, but probably can't read the fine print.

God hates flags.





The following are still funny, but you probably don't want to read all of this, so the top ones are my favorites.

Taxes aren't why your life sucks.

Critical Thinking: The Other National Deficit
I'm a Marxist. w/Groucho photo

I scare Juan Williams at airports. sign held by female, brown-skinned woman wearing hijab

Facts have a well-known Liberal bias.

Glenn Beck brainwashed my grandparents. I want them back!

Vote Cthulhu. Why pick a lesser evil?

Pssst...if you see my mom in the audience, tell her I'm working on my dissertation

Pi is all the irrationality I need

Empowering the Powerful - RepubliCorp

Thanks Honey 4 staying home w/ the kids

I've only got hair under my scarf. wearing hijab

I want to see Sarah Palin's birth certificate

Repeal Civil Rights -- I was happy at the back of the bus. held by black man

No more unqualified candidates: show me your grades in
US Gov't
Environmental Sci
Stats & Econ
or STFU

Give Us Back the Colonies & we'll give you health care. under UK flag











.

Requiem of Doom

Riddle of Steel / Riders of Doom: if you remember Conan the Barbarian, you'll remember the tune (track 2). Lord only knows, but parts of it, esp. 3:50 make me think of the Requiem mass: Dona eis requiem aeternam to a pounding, driving over-the-top Williams-esque heroic tune. Rather appropriate, in this case: eternal rest grant unto them as Conan is killing everyone.

The tune is not exactly the version in the modern Gregorian tradition or even Mozart. Yes, yes, the picky adherents to the Church of Rome will point out that the 'official' order of the text is 'requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine'. However, given the glory of Latin declination of nouns, it shouldn't really matter in which order they are used.

Failing my current profession, perhaps I can turn to a life setting the Latin Mass to new settings.
et lux perpetua luceat eis.

why?

Seriously, why bother?

It isn't as if my vote or anything else I do can possible overcome the immensity of corruption and money.


I keep asking myself whether or not American politics has always been this god-awful. Or is this simply a new and refined style of corruption?



yup ... new & improved!


why bother? god almighty, it's so depressing. almost as bad as the retarded idiots sitting over in St. Paul. Not at the capitol. The ones in the cathedral. That's even more remote from human influence.

why bother?

Latin, pt. 2

Dr.Nuke posted earlier, regarding Mass in Latin:
may help promoting the unity among those that do not share a common language during service/prayer.

I was in Vienna for Easter in 1975 (I was 9). I didn't want to go to Mass, and tried to argue with my parents that there was no need to go, since none of us spoke German & we wouldn't be able to follow anything. This is the point in my life where I discovered Latin.

My parents: when we were children, Mass was always in Latin.

Me: that's stupid

... fast forward to 2010 ...

Some one: I want Mass to always be in Latin

Me: that's stupid


We went to Mass that Easter Sunday. Mom told me later it was some Hungarian?/not-German/not-English congregation. Definitely not speaking the vernacular, Mom & Dad decided to see how much Latin they remembered.

So ... I got to listen to Mass in Hungarian, and my parents in Latin. I assure you, there wasn't any unification goin' on with me.

Conversely ...

The first time I was in Germany with Mr.Gopher, we went to Mass with his parents. Who do speak German :-) I thought "well, I speak German, sort-of" (having, courtesy of Dr.Nuke & Mr.Gohper, learned how "sort-of" it was)... I thought steadfastly, "I can do this". ha ha. I very quickly realized I couldn't: I just recited it all in English. My father-in-law thought it was cool that I did.

I agree with Dr.Nuke's point #3; which is likely the intent behind the person I quoted. It would be nice to be able to follow some of the service if visiting a foreign land (like Lake Street in Midtown). I don't know if this is the way to do it. After all, the reason I could follow the Mass in Germany is that it is the same. Even today, at the sign of peace, we both say to each other "Der Friede sei mit dir". Not that I think peace is any more effective in German ... it's just that it is German; an offering from me to him.

At our wedding in Gladbeck, the Mass was (obviously) in German. However, being cognizant of the mixed audience, we had the Gospel read in both German and English, that being the most important of the readings to understand. We also had the Lamb of God in - yes - Latin. Sung by a Frenchwoman. Why? I am particularly fond of the arrangement; we used it at St. John's.

Almost everyone at the wedding was Catholic. It was unifying, as an aspect of our Catholic cultural history. Basically, the reason many people argue we should keep doing it on occasion. And, the reason I don't object to doing it on occasion. I see it as similar to taking the kids to the Minneapolis Art Institute to look at Greco-Roman art. It's important to understand how we as Catholics got to where we are, in order to figure out which direction we should be demanding the Church take from here. (Yo, Your Holiness: call me; let's discuss bureaucracy & theology. The staff over at St. Albert's can give you my number.)

Anyway - the Agnus Dei in Latin at my wedding: Ultimately, it was a mass offered by us to our families and friends in celebration of our marriage; it wasn't next Sunday's liturgy. And there were quite a few people singing with it; Violaine sung it a capella while standing in the middle of the congregation - she couldn't get up to the front. It was particularly appealing, truly driving home the point that we all get together and we worship together - it's an audience participation event. (and something we can do without the priest)

Your 15 minutes are up

I just got my 15 minutes of fame. If you want to call it that ...

Minnesota Public Radio contacted me twice last week. Once for In the Loop, a small, slightly odd-ball look at pop culture that's only available on-line. Second by the main News Room. Both of them interviewed me & then decided to use the interviews.

MPR's Christmas Stories
Story of when our house burned down 5 days before Christmas. Aired at 7:20 Christmas Eve morning. Needless to say, I didn't listen to it. Which is sad, because I thought the boys would get a kick out of Mom's voice coming out of the radio.
I was told they'd post the audio on-line. When they do, I'll add it. Here, however, is the text of what I wrote them. Note: the date is wrong, it should have been 1979. C'est la vie.


MPR's In the Loop
Holiday podcast. Skip to about 30:00 min. I'm the first person in the "Santa Alternatives" section. I explained how our Christmas presents are brought by the 3 Wise Men. Our kids believe in Santa, they just know that Santa brings other kids presents (their American cousins), or the Christkind (their German cousins).


technical glitch: the link I put here goes to the most recent podcast, not the specific one I want. Will try to fix. ... and ... I still can't find the link to the 1st interview. Oh, well, you'll just have to believe that it happened (a friend heard it on the radio - I didn't, & I'm curious to hear how they edited it.)

[review] Religulous

wow ... #3

no, not another jr. gopher!

There are very, very few movies I’ve ever despised enough to walk out of. Boogie Nights was repugnant. The only reason I didn’t walk out was because I was @ the theater with a friend. Afterwards, we walked out in silence. Eventually I asked in an odd tone of voice, “so, what did you think?” We both vowed never to sit through another movie so god awful horrible, even if it meant leaving the other one in the theater.

Pulp Fiction: yup, I must be the only person in America who thought the movie sucked. I can’t tell you why. Nothing specific struck me, just the awful movie. I don’t want to watch it again to figure it out.

And now .... (drum roll, please) ...

Religulous: you have got to be kidding. This should have been called Ridiculous. Because, while Mahr might be funny, this wasn’t. If someone had just told me that it was a 2 hour effort to ridicule and despise people for their religious beliefs, I wouldn’t have bothered. Well, I only bothered with the first 30 min.

Mahr’s claim that he wanted to understand this bizarre phenomenon of deism was a self-serving lie - he didn’t want to and didn’t bother to try. The note on IMdB reads: "Bill Maher's take on the current state of world religion." It isn't. He just runs around pondering with this smirk on his face "I don't understand ..." There was no effort to understand.

Strangely, he interviewed quite a diverse group of people in 30 min.:

• a bunch of truckers who have a chapel at a truck stop in a converted (of course) tractor-trailer.
• a minister who is a recovered homosexual married to a recovered lesbian whose mission in life is to convert the rest of Gay America to the wonders of a life with Jesus.
• the head of the National Academy for the Advancement of Science
• a former Motown star who epitomizes the "Jim Baker send me your money for God" type of evangelical preacher

There was no effort to solicit anything truly intelligent or articulate from them. Nope, just asking questions to elicit a previously determined answer. Come on - the fellow from the NAAS was articulate.

If they had only a) made an effort to be funny/satirical or b) not tried to pretend to be a documentary ... well, I might have been more likely to at least watch the whole thing. A review stated: It's not what the movie is about, it's how it's about it. If so, Mahr totally failed by losing my interest 30 min. into the movie.

Gopher Movie Rating:
Go floss your teeth.


I understand the appeal of wanting to understand why people believe what they do. (Mahr doesn't, but that's okay.) I would really have been interested in this as a serious movie.

I never asked my friend the Nuclear Physicist and devout Catholic why he, as a scientist, believes in a divine God. One would assueme a man who spends his time trying to observe the bizarre mysteries of the unseen and uncertain wouldn’t have so much difficulty believing in God, rather than neutrinos.

I suppose I could ask Mr.Gopher, another physicist and devout Catholic why he believes in God. It seems an incredibly personal question, even for one’s spouse. (A truly insane confluence of talking about sex yes, but not Faith?) Well, something to talk about besides our taxes Friday when we play hookie together.

I’m a scientist. Although I’m not a physicist, and not always so sure about the devout Catholic. I think like many, part of my justification for this belief is not discussed publicaly. Mystics make most American Catholics uncomfortable. We tend to accept the mysticism of saints and messiahs, but not ourselves.

And, apparently unlike some, science doesn’t threaten my faith. The more I studied physical chemistry, the more convinced I was that there was a god. How could so much of the universe be described by mathematics without something behind it? I cannot imagine any scientific finding capable of repudiating the existance of God. I can only imagine the more knowledge we have of the natural world simply reaffirming this.

A naval pilot once stated that after a night-time instrument-only bad-weather landing on an aircraft carrier, he had no problem believing in what one cannot see.

polio pilgrimage

I guess occasionally an oppressive unilateral empire might do something useful:

Saudi Arabia has announced that everyone arriving for the annual pilgrimage to Mecca in November will have to swallow a dose of oral polio vaccine under the eyes of health officials.

Homegrown Terrorism & Stupidity in Winter Cultural Fashions

Minneapolis has become the focus of a wide-ranging FBI investigation into a terrorist group's recruitment of young immigrant men for service in Somalia's ethnic and religious warfare.

"We have seen Al-Qaida franchise itself around the world ..."
Is this like McDonald's? Call 800-4TERROR now to ask about the franchise opportunities in your neighborhood for extremists. Evangelical Christians need not apply.

"Somali youth talk more about March Madness, Kobe Bryant, and the NFL draft than they do about [him],"
At least the discussion of March Madness isn't a total wash: the Gophers are managing to not loose all of their games. (mind you, "not lose" isn't quite the same thing as "win".)

Rep. Keith Ellison, the Minneapolis Democrat who became the first Muslim elected to Congress.
This implies there's been more than one, rather than "Ellison ... the only one who managed to get in"

If they're sitting around wondering why their kids are haring off to the Old Country with no clue about Reality ... they'd do better trying to integrate into Main-Stream America. Walking through Riverside (a.k.a. Little Mogadishu) is a fashion parade of eastern Africa. I really don't care what culturally-specific clothing people wear. I encourage people to keep their traditional languages alive, and am happy the Hennepin County Library system has Somaali books. (In fact, the only foreign language books in East Lake, Hosmer or Hopkins are Spanish and Somaali.)

The avoidance of being American is what leads naive children to do stupid things in pursuit of someone else's nationalism. If the kids had more ties to being American, and seeing America as their primary nationality, they'd be less likely to go wandering off in pursuit of someon else 's nationalistic goals. (Although, admittedly the problem in Somali seems to be the predominance of ethnicity rather than nationalism.)

Speaking of cultural fashion: there are several different groups of traditional/semi-traditionally clothed females around here. The traditional Somalis are quite noticeable with their head-to-toe veil-coverings. While I certainly couldn't tell, at least it would lend itself to wearing warm clothes in the Minnesota Winters.

The other Muslim traditionalists with hijabs are a common sight. Yesterday the weather was -3F when I left for the Light Rail to campus. The wind chill was at least -25F. I'm standing inside the shelter at Lake Street Station. A young woman is there wearing a hijab, coat and ankle-length skirt. Totally unremarkable sight, except ... she wasn't wearing gloves. Okay, a stupidity shared by quite a few others on the platform. Her hijab is a sheer, lightweight cotton/polyester - a stupidity shared by all the other women with them. Why don't you ever see them in heavy cotton flannel or thermal fleece? Not fashionable enough? But what made me struggle to not laugh: Because she was backlit in the bright morning sun, I could also see that her skirt was really sheer. I could see her legs clear up to her knees, where the skirt lining stopped. I was left wondering if she even realized this ... Cultural compliance in form, but not substance.

Just funerals

The topic of funerals came up today; several have been mentioned in the local news recently. It made me stop and think of the ones I've attended. A few for co-workers; a couple of good friends; a couple grandmothers; a dozen or so total strangers.

Steve Councilman's funeral was a relatively sedate non-denominational 'memorial service' held at a funeral home. If you attended our wedding, his wife was my Best Woman; he unfortunately didn't make it there. In fact, one of the last things he heard the night he died was of our engagement. RoseAnn was understandably distraught. The little kernel of my/her friends in Lansing wanted to give her a break between the memorial and the Mourners' Decent Upon Her Home. There was a little wooden chalice-like object sitting on a table at the head of the room where the memorial was held. Since it had been present for the funeral service, and since we were going to go out for beer as a fitting wake, we took the chalice with us. It was just a solid wood cup - like a cup, but solid. Pity, we said, if it had been a real chalice, we would have filled it with beer for our fallen comrade.

There were at least 2 dozen of us at Moriarity's on Michigan Avenue. As with Weddings, Funerals tend to bring people together who otherwise wouldn't do so voluntarily. There was a bit of silent, unacknowledged tension as seating was worked out - who could sit next to whom, without saying "Get the hell away from me Foul Creature of Adultery's Abyss". The waitress comes, we all order beer, with an extra one for Steve. The pint of Guinness was set next to the little wooden thing in the center of our table. More than an hour later, after stories of our friend, catching up on the stories of our own lives, we decide to head over to RoseAnn's and pay our respects. Considering the sorrow of the whole thing, it was a fairly good day.

... about 2 years later ...

I am over at RoseAnn's house for a hockey game, or some thing. I notice on the fireplace mantle the little wooden cup-thing. I said, 'I remember this from Steve's funeral', and chuckled at the memory of the beer. RoseAnn glanced at me, looked sort of regretful, and said, "well, I buried most of his ashes, and decided to keep a bit for myself."

So ... I told the Gang we had quite literally taken Steve's ashes with us to have our wake. Steve was no doubt looking down upon us and laughing his ass off.


Fred Spencer was a leading light in the medieval re-enactment group I belonged to; he was the commanding officer for a Michigan National Guard company. I knew quite a few people in both groups. His family is a very traditional Italian-American group. The funeral was a totally gung-ho Roman Catholic Funeral Mass. His male relatives provided the pall bearers into the church, the medieval reenactors carried the casket out of the church, and the National Guard provided the military funeral honors at the grave side. The night before his funeral, I was swiftly sewing patches and decorations onto Army uniforms for the previous resident of my house and all of our friends who were likewise Heraldic-ly impaired. The Guard/Reserves don't wear dress uniforms very often, or at least the MP & Armor units don't. Most of the fellows hadn't bothered to change patches/rank insignia etc. in years. I sat & sewed more insignia at the funeral home when the other soldiers realized I would. Fred would have loved the panoply that was his funeral.

At Grammy's funeral, Mr.Gopher couldn't make it out to Jersey, so Jr.Gopher#1 and I went. He was 11 months old at the time. It was a pretty short, straightforward service. It's not as if there were enough people to have a 'panoply'. The priest at one point asked all of Gert's grandchildren to come up for a prayer, inviting us to each put our hand on the casket for a blessing. All 10 of us were there, along with 6 (7?) great-grandchildren. Jr.Gopher#1 and I were standing at the priest's left hand. Jr. watches everyone else, leans forward out of my arms, and slaps his hand right down on the casket with the rest of us. I saw a real smile on the priest's face. Julie had found miniature spearmint jelly candies & was distributing them at the wake. I'm not sure if Grammy would have approved of her funeral. I'm pretty sure she would have enjoyed getting to see us, though I imagine that after a 30 year delay, getting to see Grandpa again probably trumped us kids.

Yes, I've been to the funeral of a total stranger.

St. John's Student Parish had music for all of its (very infrequent) funerals. Depending on our schedules, some of the choir would show up just to help provide music. I've never managed to get through a funeral without crying. One young woman drowned in one of Michigan's lakes, due to having a seizure while swimming; she had epilepsy. She was still living at home, and likely would always have, due to other health issues. Listening to the various eulogies, I was struck by how full her life sounded. Handicaps apparently didn't handicap her ability and willingness to simply live and enjoy life. It brought me to wonder if it is better to live for only 25 years, having a wonderful life, or stretch it out to 90 and be miserable? On the other hand ...

The most emotionally draining funeral I ever attended was at St. John's. I got the message: Funeral tomorrow, come if you can. Upon being told the deceased was a child, it was a bit harder to focus, thinking if a child is 18 years old when she dies it's bad enough, but this child was 18 months old. Myself and the other 2 or 3 people tried to emotionally brace ourselves. As I mentioned, I always cry at funerals. (Lots of other times, too.) The opening song started and I was fine - until the casket was brought in. The tiny, tiny, oh so tiny container for such a little life. Tears started right then. Her mother was beyond distraught, sobbing great shuddering cries of despair and loss, hanging on the edge of the tiny white box. I never want to do that again. Never.

On the other end of the scale, the choir (we were a busy lot) went to the St. Lawrence Hospital hospice one Sunday per month after Mass. The small entry area there had an upright piano and was large enough for a dozen or so of us to gather. We sang songs for the people staying there: happy songs, quiet songs, new songs, old songs. One woman asked to be brought out of her room to see us. The acoustics down the hall toward the rooms was good, but she wanted to actually see us sing. Occasionally we'd get a request from one of the people. We would always do them. Occasionally someone would say "that's my father's favorite song", or "could you sing that again for my sister?" One afternoon, the request was from a woman who couldn't get up. About 5 minutes later, the nurse came out and told us the woman had passed away very quietly and peacefully. I would happily do that again.

We didn't get a chance to attend Mr.Gopher's Uncle Josef's funeral. Big trans-Atlantic flights put a damper on family unity in the face of grief. We tried to explain death in general terms to Jr.Gopher #1. He knows we used to have another cat; he's never met Josef ... it's all an intellectual exercise trying to explain that Uncle Josef is with God now.

I remember one of our dogs dying when I was very young; it's my first recollection of any death. I remember being incredibly disturbed and confused when someone tried to explain to me that dogs don't go to Heaven. I just cried and cried over the thought that our pet might not go to heaven, a state which I assumed was the natural conclusion of life. Despite the technicalities of theology explained to me, I didn't care if dogs had souls or not. How could someone say Bismark had no soul? 'Cause I gotta tell you, 30+ years later, I firmly believe that my cat Shiro had a soul. The ability to love is a consequence of having a soul. All cats? No. My cat? Yes.

Ah, it's 11:58 p.m. Death of another sort - the daily release of consciousness - is upon me.

Awe Inspiring

Mass, A Theatre Piece for Singers, Players and Dancers, by Leonard Bernstein, composed in 1971, for the opening of the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts was performed last night (and tonight) by the Minnesota Orchestra.

Awe inspiring is the only word. With regards to many of the different aspects of the production, not only the written music score. The show included: the full Minnesota Orchestra, the Minnesota Chorale, the Minnesota Boys Choir, the James Sewell Ballet, and a couple dozen other singers & soloists. It was huge. One reason it's rarely performed.

As you’d think from the name, it’s either a reflection on physical nature of matter or the Roman Catholic Sacramental Celebration. It was superficially odd that a modern Jew would write something traditionally see as Catholic ‘classical’ music. Well received or not, the content would be much more accessible to those already interested in classical music, rather than using a Jewish holy ceremony. Bernstein obviously considered it an appropriate framework for the razor-sharp commentary. And commentary it was: social and religious. ‘Religious’ not in the sense of theology, but in the sense of how we view & practice that theology.

Surrounding the music physically as well as musically, with the Orchestra sitting center stage, are the supporting cast. The choir provides the traditional vocal support for the different parts of the mass, mostly in Latin.** The boys choir comes in as altar boys occasionally to support the adult choir. The ballet troupe provides further non-verbal reflection on the text. And, finally the other singers provide the main commentary as a congregation and a priest.

The whole shebang starts out joyous, happy, enthusiastic. The Kyrie [a prayer for mercy] begins, focusing our attention. The priest wears jeans & a button-down shirt, no priest-collar, no priest-outfit. He’s young and enthusiastic, encouraging. The congregation enters, themselves attending Mass, and are equally involved in the service. Things go down hill from there.

The ‘commentary’ gets less joyful and more critical, as the priest dons more and more of the traditional vestments (though I don't understand the color choice of starting with Easter's all white vs. the normal white & green). During the Confitior [confession], one doesn’t hear the words of the priest and congregation, just the image. (Appropriately, as one oughtn’t hear them) Half way through, one of the men who seems rather disinterested in the whole to-do, starts singing ‘what I feel I don’t say / what I say I don’t mean / what I mean I don’t show / what I show I don’t know ... What I need I don't have / What I have I don't own / What I own I don't want / What I want, Lord, I don't know”. Others join individually, variously sorrowful, angry, resentful. Here begins the disconnection between what we as Christians (or whomever) are supposed to say-do-believe and ... well, between that and reality.

Observations continue between what the Church itself teaches and how Society bends those teachings to its own ends: "God made us the boss / God gave us the cross / We turned it into a sword / To spread the word of the Lord / We use His holy decrees / To do whatever we please / And it was goddam good! "

The epistles were interspersed with reading letters demonstrating the currency of St. Paul's sentiments. At the Consecration [blessing the bread & wine], the priest has also succumbed to the crisis of faith following his congregation's ennui of faith. He prays and cries and screams to a sleeping crowd. I'm uncertain if sleeping was supposed to indicate a total disinterest in events, or if it was reminiscent of the gospels. In the prayer during a regular Mass, the priest raises the bread saying "take this bread & eat of it, this is my body which will be given up for you." The words are from the Last Supper, and what happens after that disastrous dinner party? The apostles all take a nap, leaving Christ to His crisis of faith in the Garden of Gethsemane. Of course, none of the gospels paint the Son of God ranting and railing.

Commentary from the premier ranged from “the most, best, greatest, ultimate ... yada yada yada’ to “And there were those, especially among the youthful members of the audiences, who screamed and applauded and cheered and cried and said that it was the most beautiful thing that they had ever heard. ... It is a pseudo-serious effort at rethinking the Mass that basically is, I think, cheap and vulgar. It is a show-biz Mass, the work of a musician who desperately wants to be with it.” -- NYT critic on the premier in ’71.

The counterpoint between the ‘congregation’ and the formal prayers was elegant, subtle, and at times oh so poignant.

This was my first visit to Orchestra Hall. It won’t be the last. It’s hard to tell how good the acoustics are with so many different things going on at the same time. This also made it difficult at times to understand the text with a choir, singers & orchestra & soloist all together. [ed: I listened to the broadcast tonight; with the mics right above the stage, there were parts I could hear much more clearly than in the concert hall.] Though, like opera, one could at least keep track of the general idea from the actors/dancers. The Orchestra is amazing. I’m so unqualified to critique dancers beyond “wow, that’s amazing”, but the choreography was as elegant a depiction as the words. Based upon the thundering applause from the audience, my opinion was assuredly shared. The biggest booms were offered for the lead boy soprano, who gave - @ 8 yr old - a stunning performance and the Priest.

If you’re interested, Minnesota Public Radio is broadcasting this tonight @ 8 p.m. CST. also on-line: right-hand side column as the ‘listen live” link, or with the “classical” tab in the upper-right corner of their homepage, or of course, if you’re in MN, 99.5 FM in the Twin Cities. I’m pretty sure I’m going to tune in after the boys go to bed.

See Mr. STFU&GBTW’s story about his buddy flying back to the States, then ... I’m standing at our seats after the very long applause, chatting with my friend The Author. I see someone who looks vaguely familiar. The brain starts a database search ‘identity=?’ The only reason I even came up with this potential answer is the fact we’re in Minnesota. Me: “That looks like Walter Mondale”; Author: “That is Walter Mondale”.

** if you see a music performance called a “Mass”, e.g. Mozart’s Requiem Mass, it is a collection of the music & (often) prayers set to music, which have been written to be used in a Roman Catholic Mass. There can be many different prayers or prayer settings use, so there isn’t really a ‘standard’ group of music in these.

The Imperial Jesus

'The Family' appears to be an interesting book, of the flavor 'god, just kill me now, before they destroy my life and the world'.

The Minnesota Independent ran a long article with the author. Toward the end is his reflections on how H. Clinton fits in with the conservative Christian group of his book.