Liturgical Thoughts and Time Travel

I spent some time this evening watching my DVRed version of The Eternal Gift, which is the film of the celebration of the Easter Sunday mass at Our Lady of Sorrows in Chicago, circa 1940 (youtube version here). I recorded it when it appeared on EWTN on the same day as the celebration of the Extraordinary Rite by the FSSP for the EWTN special. (FWIW, I recorded that mass too, but could only bring myself to watch it once all the way through, the incessant high-pitched nun-singing during the mass grated on my nerves - but I digress).

The film is scratchy black and white, and the audio flutters and wows, but I can still watch it and transport myself back in time to when it was happening. It is truly amazing to do and to feel. But one of the things that is unmistakable is how deeply people believed then. Sure there were no doubt some louts and philanders and what all in the congregation, just as there are today, but people by and large believed unhesitatingly. You can see in the faces - hear in the voices - such unadulterated and heartfelt joy and pleading and just raw emotion. Not in a pentecostal kind of way, but in a more sincere, reasoned, and true-believing way. The people were there talking to God in a way that one would talk to - say - a Judge on the Bench, or the President of the US, or the Holy Father. As if they were in a room with Greatness and Power, and had a chance to address the All Powerful One directly.

Absent completely is the careless off-handedness one sees today. The attitude of "ho-hum, gimme my host so I can get out of here" that is EVERYWHERE today in the Catholic Church. And I am not talking about some stupid puppet mass, I mean a properly celebrated by-the-book novus ordo mass. People plain and simple, don't CARE. I'm not questioning their fundamental beliefs or motives - God forbid I should do that - but their slouchy attitude. What I'm saying is, I know they believe something, or else they'd be at St. Mattress every Sunday morning, but it is not possible to reconcile their attitude and behavior with a sincere belief in and understanding of the sacrifice of the mass and the real presence of GOD HIMSELF in the tabernacle - or on the altar.

So what happened???? I know that society in general is rapidly deteriorating to the point where clean cargo shorts and t-shirts are considered "business attire". But is what we see representative of that decline? Or is it something different? Well, to use an inapproriate but telling business technique, let's check out the competition! In the more mainstream protestant churches, never (nearly) does one see men go to Sunday Service in anything but a suit, or at the very least a jacket and tie. But in OUR church, such attire is a rarity! At each mass there are a few suits, yes, but about 80% of the congregation looks like they are dressed for a round of golf, at best, or a Jimmy Buffet concert, at worst. In fact, here in the south, I have often heard people (protestants) point out that Catholics "wear anything" to church!

My Latin basically is nonexistent, consisting of one year at Page High School in '75, so I can't translate this. But, as the church, and Pope Benedict in particular says "as we pray, so we believe" (Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi), I would like to add "how we act and dress is how we believe". And I speak with personal experience. Looking Back over the years at my own behavior, there were times when I went to church in a ratty t-shirt, holey, dirty jeans, and old sneakers. Only now, with the clarity of hindsight, do I realize that those were the same times when I was just "going though the motions". It may be unfair or unreasonable to extrapolate that out to the Catholic world in general, but I don't think it is. I think it's the only logical choice.

The question for the ages is, how did we get here? And how do we get out? The first half is easy. We got here because we were put here. A whole generation of priests came out of Vatican II with the attitude of "Jesus is COOL man!!!" "He Loves you no matter what you wear". Combined with their own laissez-faire attitude toward reverence and respect, they dumbed us all down.

The answer to the second is harder, and it will be the topic of my next post....

Tune in again tomorrow!!!!

Meme-Tagged By The Cannonball!!

Write whatever comes to your mind about yourself.

1- blogging.
A Love-Hate relationship, in a way. I love doing it, but hate NOT doing it. The problem is that there are times when I just don't really have anything interesting or insightful to say. Then, the blog kind of dies and I feel guilty about it. On the other hand, sometimes I have occasion to look back at some posts from months before, and think "Wow, I wrote THAT". So, more than anything else, blogging has given me the opportunity to pound out some interesting thoughts that otherwise would have been lost in the noise-filled echo-chamber that is my brain nowadays.

2- writing.
Oh how I wish I could!!!!! I am told that I am a great storyteller, and I so wish that I had the ability to translate that to paper (or ether). My brain is full of so many interesting stories, mostly of the people I have worked with, and interesting things (at least to me) that I have had the chance to see and do. Since I read the first chapter of All Creatures Great and Small, I thought that it (and it's three companion volumes) was the greatest book ever written. I'm no James Herriott, but I think I might be able to make a few people laugh, or at least giggle.

3- art.
Art is beautiful. Art is beauty. It is all around us. Everywhere, it seems, except those places where "modern man" intentionally tries to create it. Art takes time, both to create and appreciate, maybe that's why it is so rare in our world any more. This is true in the Catholic Church in the extreme. It appears that any art found nowadays is cookie-cutter 1970 minimalist. It all ha the appearance of a conscious effort to be "cutting edge", the problem being that the style was about 8 years past "cutting edge" in 1970 when it became the catholic norm. But I suppose the boomer generation, secure in their knowledge that everything they do is by definition the ultimate achievement, is unable to learn that the world has moved on.

4- crazy dreams.
I have been known to have some wild ones, on rare occasions leading to physical action. One time, I had a dream about getting into a fight with my former employer, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and shook him while screaming "You Son of a Bitch" over and over. The dream ended when my panicked (and previosly sleeping wife woke me up, as I actually, in my sleep, had HER by the nightgown, shaking her and saying the same thing!!!

5- nuns.
I miss them so much. I went to catholic school toward the end of the "mean nun" era. I had a few hard cases, but most were kind, firm, guiding. My daughter is in Catholic school (a GOOD one), and it breaks my heart to see her there without the whole platoon of nuns around. There is a retired nun (a real one, in a real habit) who still often is at the school in the mornings, either to visit or to help out, I'm not sure, and her very PRESENCE on the school grounds changes the whole atmosphere of the place. And I pray - every day - that my daughters, or at least one of them, gets the call.

6- music.
Love to listen to it, love to sing it - LOUD. Damn near any kind. But I have to be careful - very careful - because it can define my mood and attitude. I can drive myself into a real depression by listening to to much melancholy music.

7- normalcy.
I always wanted to be "normal", but never have been. Nowadays, since normal seems to be defined as a herd of starbucks coffee sipping SUV driving pretentious yuppies, I no longer have the desire to be "normal". On the other hand, now that I live in a real subdivision, I find that I can't fire up the grill or mow the lawn without the Monkees' song Pleasant Valley Sunday coming into my head!

Thanks CC, for the Meme, and for waking me up. I needed that.

Requiescat in Pace, Deke Dog

Yesterday, 21 April, 2008, marked the end of the road for the Dog who had been in my family since 1997, and whose picture, up until now, graced the right side of my blog.
He was a good old dog, was Deke, and didn't really seem too upset as the anaesthetic flowed and he passed away. I think he was just tired of the discomfort of the ever growing tumor in his abdomen. So, in a few seconds, it was over for the old guy.

Odd name for a dog - Deke. It was actually picked by my wife, based on the way we acquired him, suddenly and unexpectedly in March of '97. At that time, I worked as a manager of a local car dealer, and I went by the office one Friday afternoon (my bi-monthly day off) to get my paycheck. As I walked across the showroom, there was, sitting at one of the tables, a girl with a big black dog on a leash. I immediately said "Aww, a doooggg!" and went over to say hello. As I knelt down in front of him, and the dog gently reared up on his haunches and gently placed his front paws on my shoulders. Then the girl explained that it was her family dog, and she was taking it to the animal shelter, and had stopped to get an oil change on the way. It was a good dog, she said, but her neighbor was a kook and for a series of reasons, they had to get rid of the dog. A couple of quick begging calls to my wife later, the dog was in my truck and headed for home.

When we got home, she asked what was his name - it was "scratchy". Well, we wanted to rename him to make him ours. Since he had managed to essentially save his own life with minutes to spare, she suggested "Deke", based on the quote from my favorite test-pilot astronaut, "Deke" Slayton - "A test pilot in trouble doesn't think 'I've got 10 seconds until I crash', he thinks 'Hell, I've got ten seconds! I bet I can save this thing!'" I liked it, and it stuck.

He was an odd dog - silent - he only barked three times in the 11 years we had him. And loved LOVED to run - as long as it was away from me! We quickly learned to never let him off the leash, or he was g-o-n-e. And boy did he love food! The people kind, that is. And he was infinitely kind and affectionate with the kids. And me.

But now he has gone from this world, and I miss him badly.

Arrivederci, My Friend.

City - vs - Everywhere Else

(Note: This post may reveal some of my prejudices, but so be it.)

For as long as I can remember, I have been disgusted with the way the overwhelming majority of these United States are portrayed in the media. The Big Media centers of New York and Los Angeles are populated with people whose view of the nation is (understandably) prejudiced. They live in "The City", and eventually operate under the assumption that "The City" is the the country. Hence we get a media driven phenomenon like the doomed presidential campaign of Rudi Giuliani - "America's Mayor". He was a good guy who did a good job of running New York City - especially post 911, but he had not a snowballs chance in hell of translating that into the presidency. The rest of the country "out here" are not under the same illusion that "The City" is just like everywhere else in the US - a condensed melting pot so to speak. Then there is the accurate, telling and incredibly offensive term "flyover country" which the "cultured" media use to describe the vast majority of the United States where the "uncultured" rest of us live.

There is a fantastic blog which I have been following the past few months, written by an Irish family in an RV, traveling across the U.S. This morning, I read this post wherein this fine Irish gentleman contrasts the America he has found with the America as perceived in his homeland. It is a fascinating description from an outsider's perspective on the nature of the American people. Or at least the nature of the good citizens of flyover country.

I no sooner read this post that I blunder into this story about raising children in New York City. Apparently, having three children in "The City" is now considered to be a status symbol - a way of saying "look what I can afford". This amazing column not only tells us that some see having three (3) children in "The City" as elitist or selfish or unnecessary, but gives an interesting insight into what parental life is like for "In upscale urban areas and tony suburban enclaves". From $800 a week child care to $50,000 a year nannies to hauling children to squash (the game, not the food), it give a glimpse of how "the other half" lives. To be fair, the author is in no way bragging about these things, and is in fact trying to make them seem a bit absurd or over the top - which they are. But that doesn't change the fact that there is no way that someone who loves in that world can understand what life is like in my world.

So next time you hear someone on a network TV broadcast from New York tell about their life and their travails. Remember that, well meaning though they may be, their perspective is unavoidably different than yours.

New Translation of Vatican II in the offing???

My faithful Google Alert sent me a link to a post on this blog by a retired priest in the UK. Included as part of this post about Cardinal Hoyos and the status of the SSPX is this little nugget:

Cardinal Levada the Holy Father's head of the Doctrine office has indicated he wants "new and authoritative translations of major council documents"

This is the first I have heard of this, and a quick Google search turned up no mention of it anywhere. I don't have the time or resources to investigate (I'm posting this during a 10 minute class break), but it sure seems like it would be worth looking into!
So I would hope that someone will read this and look into this possibility, because it is very very exciting to me, and I'm sure many others.

Dignity... Always, Dignity

"Well, Dora, l've had one motto
which l've always lived by:

'Dignity. Always dignity. '

This was instilled in me by Mum and Dad
from the very beginning."

Gene Kelley, in the opening scene of Singin' in the Rain.




Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, Katharine Jeffers Schori

Madness

I once knew a man, friend of my fathers', who used to say "I like nice things". He was a very successful businessman with a history of, shall we say brutal successes. One was considered luck if, having done a deal with him, one survived with the skin on his back - because the shirt was gone for sure. That combined with an almost shark like sense for businesses that were bleeding and weak - ripe for the kill, so to speak.. His explanation of his success was always simply "I like nice things". That was it. He liked nice things, and he was willing to do whatever it took to get them and keep them. That said he was very kind and generous to my father, and I will always be grateful for that.

Now here we are, as a culture, doing whatever it takes to get and keep "Nice Things". In itself, that isn't bad, of course. I like nice things too. The problem occurs when the acquisition of those nice things involves giving up too many other, important things. Like home and family.

I plead guilty here. I work way too much, and so does my wife. But for some reason, I don't have much in the way of "nice things" to show for it. I have a decent house in a decent neighborhood - no McMansion for sure. I drive a ten year old used minivan, and thank God for it, because there's no way I could afford to replace it! I look at our income, and am amazed at how it seems to evaporate. Sometimes I just want to throw up my hands and say to hell with it all, pack the kids up in the van and just roll. To Montana or somewhere. I know that's not realistic, but DAMN. I just can't seem to see the way out. Perhaps there isn't one. Just keep my head down and keep paying off debts and wait to get out of the tunnel. I just hope I make it out of the tunnel in this lifetime!