I finished reading “Letter to a Suffering Church” this weekend. It’s Bishop Robert Barron’s discussion of the sexual abuse scandal that’s been momentarily eclipsed by election-year sturm und drang. And that’s a topic for another day. Topics.
The book’s publisher is Word on Fire.
Which, oddly enough, has nothing to do with Walt Kelly’s Pogo books or book burning. And that’s yet another topic.
Anyway, the book’s publisher is part of Word on Fire Catholic Ministries, “a nonprofit global media apostolate that supports the work of Bishop Robert Barron and reaches millions of people to draw them into— or back to— the Catholic faith.”
That quote’s from Word on Fire Catholic Ministries’ “About Word on Fire” page.
Their website has a great many resources: some free, some you could buy. Or not. That’s up to you. The site and its content seemed interesting enough for my Blogroll+, so now there’s a new item in the “Media” section.
A family get-together was supposed to be happening at our house today.
It’s been canceled or rescheduled. I don’t know which.
That’s probably just as well. There’s a winter weather advisory here, and a winter storm warning over the county line north and west. Which here in Sauk Centre is about a mile and eight miles, respectively.
We’re expecting between a hundredth and a tenth of an inch of ice and maybe three inches of snow. And sleet in Sunday’s early hours. This is why I prefer sincerely cold weather. And that’s another topic.
Noon, Christmas Eve
What threw a spanner in the works, scotched, disrupted and discombobulated our plans was a death in the family.
Around noon (we’re in the UTC -6 time zone) on Christmas Eve, my wife’s brother’s wife had a heart attack.
They were both at their home. He applied CPR, an ambulance took her to a hospital, and she died.
My wife got a call from a kinswoman a couple hours later.
When the conversation was over, my wife made more calls. By that evening, I figure everyone who was near their telephone or online connection knew what had happened. Our family’s grapevine is fairly efficient.
One of my brothers-in-law was with the now-widower by the time this household got the news. For that, I’m glad. He, the widower, is and will be grieving. A lot.
This will affect family plans for the next week or so, probably beyond. How, I’ve no idea. Nobody does, likely enough.
Oddly enough, I’m not experiencing emotional responses to my sister-in-law’s death. Apart from part of a holiday song playing on a loop in my head. And insomnia. Experience suggests that the feelings will come when my brain’s failsafes go back to standby mode.
As I said, this is going to be interesting.
Death Happens
People die. That’s been an inescapable fact throughout history.
Folks have learned to be resigned to death, we’ve learned how to delay death.
But somehow, it just doesn’t feel right.
And small wonder, since we’re made “in the image of God.”
I have no idea why my sister-in-law — I think that’s the right term — died on Christmas Eve.
It feels monumentally unfair.
But as I’ve said in another context, God’s God, I’m not, and I’m okay with that. Grudgingly, sometimes, and that’s yet another topic.
I also don’t know how I’d provide support or comfort to my brother-in-law, or if I’ll have the opportunity.
There’s more to say, but I’m not up to sorting out ideas and arranging words on that topic. Those topics. Not today.
Maybe these quotes will do for now. Or maybe not.
“…The centre of every man’s existence is a dream. Death, disease, insanity, are merely material accidents, like toothache or a twisted ankle. That these brutal forces always besiege and often capture the citadel does not prove that they are the citadel….”
(“Twelve Types,” G. K. Chesterton (1906) via Google Books)
“Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.”
(From Carly Simon, Fr. Bede Jarrett, William Penn, or Rossiter W. Raymond.1)
Or these, from St. Augustine of Hippo and the Bible.
“Of necessity we must be sorrowful when those whom we love leave us in death. Although we know that they have not left us behind forever but only gone ahead of us, still when death seizes our loved one, our loving hearts are saddened by death itself. … Our weakness weights us down, but faith bears us up. We sorrow over the human condition, but find our healing in the divine promise.”
(Sermon 172, St. Augustine of Hippo (ca. 400) via Universe of Faith)
“Do not avoid those who weep,
but mourn with those who mourn.”
(Sirach 7:35)
“The number of their days seems great
if it reaches a hundred years.
“Like a drop of water from the sea and a grain of sand,
so are these few years among the days of eternity.
“That is why the Lord is patient with them
and pours out his mercy on them.”
(Sirach 18:9–11)
“But as it is written:
‘What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard,
and what has not entered the human heart,
what God has prepared for those who love him,'”
(1 Corinthians 2:9)
“I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God himself will always be with them [as their God].
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, [for] the old order has passed away.'”
(Revelation 21:3–4)
1 “Life is eternal…” is from the fourth track of the Have You Seen Me Lately Carly Simon album and a poem by Fr. Bede Jarrett; which he said he copied from something William Penn wrote. Or it’s from Rossiter W. Raymond’s “Death is Only an Horizon.”
I’m no fan of maxed-out credit cards and vapid holiday specials.
But on the whole, I like the glitz and glitter. In moderation.
Not everyone feels that way. For some, Christmas is the season for deploring.
Traditional targets include rampant commercialism and Christmas specials.
I see echoes of America’s Puritan past in “rampant commercialism” rants, and that’s another topic. (June 1, 2018)
“The Obferation of Christmas having been deemed a Sacrilege, the exchanging of Gifts and Greetings, dreffing in Fine Clothing, Feafting and similar Satanical Practices are hereby FORBIDDEN”
(Public notice deeming Christmas illegal, Boston (1659))
New England Puritans apparently saw Christmas celebrations as unbiblical, pagan, idolatrous and Catholic.
They had a point. Sort of. I know of no Biblical reference to holly, mistletoe or Yule logs.
And Catholics do have a long history of commemorating our Lord’s birth by celebrating.
I don’t see a problem with acting as if the Messiah’s birth was a joyful occasion. I’m also not bothered by holiday traditions with roots in pre-Christian Europe. Or troubled that a Holy Day of Obligation falls so close to the winter solstice.1
Oddly enough, Puritans didn’t seem to mind that December 25 — or thereabouts — is Christmas Day. And has been since Roman times.
Why December 25th?
Why we celebrate Christmas on the 25th day of the 12th month day depends on who’s talking.
Maybe it’s because Christians hijacked Emperor Aurelian’s Sol Invictus festival.
Sol Invictus was Rome’s Sol, a sun god. Or maybe Elagabal, a Syrian import. Or something else.
Sextus Julius Africanus said Christmas is December 25th because Jesus of Nazareth was conceived on March 25th.
The current Western calendar started back when Rome had kings. Somewhere along the line, December — the 10th month — became the 12th month. Probably.
That’s what the Romans said. But their accounts don’t quite add up, and records got lost. Including Licinius Macer’s history.2
If that’s not enough to give the jittery demographic conniptions, here’s a winter solstice celebration, Mesopotamian style.
It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Zagmuk
Merry Zagmuk?
(From L. Gruner, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Bas relief from Nineveh: sun god attacking chaos monster.)
Backing up a little, Sargon of Akkad ruthlessly crushed the sovereign rights of Sumerian city-states. Or brought them a measure of peace and stability. Again, it would depend on who’s talking.
His Akkadian Empire lasted a couple centuries, and started a cycle that’s lasted four millennia. I think we may be developing a viable alternative to the empire-collapse-rebuild tradition, and that’s yet another topic. (December 24, 2018)
Babylon was a small town on the Euphrates during the Akkadian Empire’s heyday. It endured the Gutian dynasty of Sumer and what we call the 4.2 kiloyear event. Babylon grew, occasionally prospered and is currently an archaeological site south of Baghdad.
Where was I? Christmas specials, Puritans, Elagabal, Sargon of Akkad and Babylon. Right.
Folks living in Mesopotamia’s ‘good old days’ celebrated Zagmuk this time of year.
In Babylon, the festivities include a reenactment of Marduk’s 12-day battle with Chaos. The king played Marduk’s part, winning each year.
That, and what we euphemistically call a sacred marriage, sounds like fun for the king. Getting killed after the 12 days, so he could battle at Marduk’s side? Not so much. I gather that the king often had a stand-in for the 12 days of Zagmuk.
Zagmuk sounds a lot like Christmas: a mid-winter festival celebrating light and life’s triumph over chaos — and, arguably, evil — lasting 12 days.
What we know about Zagmuk comes partly from documents like Enûma Eliš. Copies of Enûma Eliš, more precisely.
The original text was probably written around Hammurabi’s day, give or take a few centuries. A particularly famous copy of Enûma Eliš was found in a royal library built a thousand years after Hammurabi enacted his law code.3
Ashurbanipal, Assyria and Epic Sibling Rivalry
(From Austen Henry Layard, James Fergusson; via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Austen Henry Layard and James Fergusson’s “The Palaces at Nimrud Restored.” (1853))
Ashurbanipal ruled the world’s largest empire, Assyria, from the world’s largest city, Nineveh.
He and his older brother, Shamash-shum-ukin, jointly inherited the Assyrian throne.
Before long, Ashurbanipal was running Assyria. His brother was king of Babylon.
Ashurbanipal? Shamash-shum-ukin? Don’t bother trying to remember these names. There won’t be a test on this.
Anyway, being a king of Babylon meant playing second fiddle to the Assyrian empire’s ruler. The one we call the Neo-Assyrian Empire.
Shamash-shum-ukin’s dissatisfaction started a three-year civil war.
He’d assembled an impressive coalition of anti-Assyria rulers, including Elamites. When the dust settled, Ashurbanipal was still running Assyria, Shamash-shum-ukin was dead and Elam was an unpopulated wasteland.
If Ashurbanipal had lived today, he’d probably have faced charges of war crimes, genocide and crimes against humanity.
But the International Criminal Court was 26½ centuries in his future.
We’re learning, slowly, to see foreigners as neighbors. And that war is far from an ideal method for resolving conflicts. (January 1, 2019)
Ashurbanipal wasn’t just a hard-nosed military commander who knew the value of a reputation for cruelty.4
The Library of Ashurbanipal
While an apprentice scribe, Ashurbanipal mastered Akkadian and Sumerian.
As a ruler, he sent scribes throughout his empire, looking for ancient texts. “Ancient” from his viewpoint.
Collecting them was probably facilitated by his reputation for cruelty above and beyond his era’s norm.
The Library of Ashurbanipal was the world’s first systematically organized library. First that we know of, that is.
I gather that Ashurbanipal saw the library as his greatest accomplishment.
I think he may have been right.
About 19 years after Ashurbanipal died, a coalition of Babylonians, Scythians and Medes reached Nineveh and torched the palace.
Including the library. Or, maybe, libraries. The anti-Assyria forces were very thorough.
On the other hand, some scholars say the Library of Ashurbanipal was in use in Alexander the Great’s day. Maybe someone extracted part of the collection before or during the fire.
I’m assuming that the anti-Assyrians incinerated the palace, library or libraries included.
The fire obliterated anything written on wood, wax, leather or papyri. But the intense heat partly baked the library’s clay tables. That may have helped preserve them.
Centuries and millennia passed. Empires rose and fell. Then, about a century and a half back, someone found what was left of the Library of Ashurbanipal.
Fitting bits of broken clay tablets together took time. So did translating them.5
Enûma Eliš, the Epic of Gilgamesh and Assumptions
Enûma Eliš and the Epic of Gilgamesh may be the best-known documents from the Library of Ashurbanipal.
I suspect that the documents upset many 19th century folks.
The era was a bit like ours. Some Europeans and Euro-Americans were studying this world’s processes and evidence we’ve left as millennia passed.
What they learned didn’t always match their culture’s “Biblical” assumptions.
I suspect that politics fuels zealots on all sides of the ongoing science-religion-evolution-education brouhaha. (February 9, 2018; September 22, 2017)
“Truth Cannot Contradict Truth”
Scholars had known about ancient parallels to the Bible’s creation and flood stories. But the extra-Biblical parallels often postdated their Biblical equivalent.
Enûma Eliš and the Epic of Gilgamesh’s creation stories and flood myth looked like their Biblical counterparts.
And were probably written before Hebrews finalized Genesis. Worse, from one viewpoint, it looked like they were likely based on even older documents.6
Brooding because the Bible wasn’t the source of ancient stories was definitely an option. So was accepting what we’ve been learning, and thinking.
I think Pope Leo XIII was right.
“…God, the Creator and Ruler of all things, is also the Author of the Scriptures – and that therefore nothing can be proved either by physical science or archaeology which can really contradict the Scriptures. … Even if the difficulty is after all not cleared up and the discrepancy seems to remain, the contest must not be abandoned; truth cannot contradict truth…”
(“Providentissimus Deus,” Pope Leo XIII (November 18, 1893))
Celebrating Hope and Light
A Light for Revelation to the Gentiles
I figure winter solstice celebrations are so common in non-equatorial cultures because it’s when the sun starts returning.7
It’s a time to celebrate the visible hope that light and life will go on, that winter won’t last forever.
And for two millennia, it’s been a time to celebrate “good news of great joy:” the moment in history when “a light for revelation to the Gentiles” was born.
“The angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.
“For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord….'”
(Luke 2:10)
“‘Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word,
“for my eyes have seen your salvation,
“which you prepared in sight of all the peoples,
“light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.'”
(Luke 2: 29–32)
The Light Still Shines
(From Silar, Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Nativity scene at the Christ the King Church in Sanok, Poland, 2010.)
You know what happened after the angel told shepherds to “not be afraid….”
They hightailed it to Bethlehem, found the promised Messiah in a feeding trough, with his mother, father and livestock. (Luke 2:15–20)
Make that foster-father. I’ve talked about Joseph, Mary and their awkward circumstances before. (December 18, 2016)
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
“He was in the beginning with God.”
“the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.”
“And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth.”
(John 1:1–2, 5, 14)
Reactions to our Lord’s arrival was mixed.
The shepherds and Magi saw our Lord’s arrival as good news.
Herod saw a threat, which is why Joseph, Mary and Jesus took off for Egypt and stayed there until Herod died.
Jesus grew up, worked miracles, made sense: and reactions were mixed again.
The Pharisees and Sadducees didn’t agree on much, but they both saw Jesus as a threat. Grass roots sentiment turned from making our Lord’s arrival in Jerusalem into a parade to shouting “Crucify him!”
Which is what happened.
A few days later, Jesus stopped being dead. We’re still celebrating, two millennia later. And that’s yet again another topic.
HOLY DAYS OF OBLIGATION: Principle feast days on which, in addition to Sundays, Catholics are obliged by Church law to participate in the Eucharist; a precept of the Church. (2043, 2180)
(Catechism of the Catholic Church, Glossary)
It’s been two months since I wrote this blog’s first “journal” entry: sharing what I’m doing or what I’ve done.
It seemed like a good idea, at the time.
Particularly since this blog’s tagline is “Following Catholic beliefs and practices in America: one man’s experience.”
I still think it’s a good idea. But I’m learning that reporting my routines isn’t easy. No, that’s not entirely accurate.
It’s easy enough.
All I’d have to do is write “woke up, made coffee, sat down, drank coffee, read online comics, made more coffee” — and keep going until I got to “signing off for the night.”
Easy, yes. Interesting, no.
Not even to me, and I’m as egocentric as most folks. Maybe more so, since I spend time and effort on writing: time I could use for reading more comics, playing solitaire and sharing cat memes on social media.
So, instead of a tiresome recount — or is that account? — of my daily routine, I’ll pick a few events that seem worth sharing. In my opinion. Your experience may vary.
Weirdness and 2018, Mostly
Even my annual ‘getting weird’ zenith isn’t particularly exceptional. Maybe “nadir” is a more appropriate word.
But this year’s isn’t nearly as bad as year-before-last. At least not that I’ve noticed. On the other hand, interrupted sleep is still an issue. (January 7, 2018)
I suspect that I’m getting over 2018.
That was an interesting year. Particularly the last few months.
I experienced a transient ischemic attack, or something like it, in August. It’s a stroke, but without lasting effects. About that, I’m not complaining. Then, in mid-September, my father-in-law died. That was, and is, a major loss for me, the family and community. (September 19, 2018; August 12, 2018)
This year, in comparison, was uneventful. Mostly.
The local/regional healthcare outfit wants folks my age to have a Health Care Directive. It’s one of those ‘you don’t have to but you should’ things.
(From Gustave Doré, via Library of Congress, used w/o permission.)
(Gustave Doré’s illustration for Poe’s “The Raven.” (1884))
There’s a line, somewhere, with rational acceptance of physical death on one side. And morbid brooding on the other.
I prefer the rational side, although staying there is harder than I like.
Not that I’m as far gone as Poe’s star-crossed scholar. Raven-crossed, actually. I’m still impressed he saw letting a nocturnal tapper inside as a good idea.
That said, I see a little of myself in that nameless young doofus.
I often react to stress by experiencing insomnia and seeking “surcease of sorrow” in books and today’s analogs of “many a quaint and curious volume.”
“…Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore —
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore….”
(“The Raven,” E. A. Poe, from Richmond Semi-Weekly Examiner (Richmond, VA), vol. II, no. 93 (September 25, 1849) via eapoe.org)
It’s not an entirely satisfactory approach, but arguably better than diving into denial. And certainly preferable to sinking into the shadow of a “pallid bust of Pallas.” (April 8, 2018)
I don’t like living with autism spectrum disorder, PTSD and depression. But accepting reality, and dealing with it, makes sense. And that’s another topic. (June 24, 2018; December 17, 2017)
And Now for Something Completely Different
Getting weird or not, I enjoy the Advent-Christmas season.
Our kitty corner neighbors have their array of lights and glowing decorations deployed.
My son has put up the household’s understated Christmas lights and creche.
Holiday-themed songs abound on the radio. Mostly of the “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Mommy Kissing the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and “Grandma Got Run Over by the Twelve Days of Christmas” variety.
And as the days grow shorter, my mind wanders back to memories of childhood; recalling the wonder of a department store’s Christmas window and my first encounter with Walt Kelly’s “Deck Us All With Boston Charlie.” And that’s yet another topic.
(St. Paul’s Church and its new addition. The St. Faustina Adoration Chapel is to your left.)
I thought this was going to be a short and simple look at my parish’s polka Mass and the Adoration Chapel in St. Paul’s parish.
Then I wondered when and where the first polka Mass was. That reminded me of my salad days, ancient philosophers, a Chinese emperor and liturgical dance. Which brought me back to the Eucharist and adoration:
(Our Lady of the Angels polka Mass, Dale Dahmen & The Polka Beats.)
Our Lady of the Angels had its annual polka Mass in mid-September. I like them.
My wife would like them more, I gather, if more polka bands were less loud. This year’s band was of the less loud variety. Possibly because they were a few members short.
One idea behind our polka Mass is encouraging folks who aren’t regular churchgoers to worship with us.
It’s working, from what I see. Mass attendance wasn’t at Christmas and Easter levels, but was above average.
Polka Masses are a new thing.
They started in the 1970s, when two priests — Father George Balasko and Father Frank Perkovich — who were also polka musicians adapted polka to our liturgy.
Fr. Balasko celebrated the first polka Mass on Memorial Day, 1972. That was at Holy Rosary Church in Lowellville, Ohio.
Fr. Perkovich’s first polka Mass was May 5, 1973, at Resurrection Church in Eveleth, Minnesota. That’s in Minnesota’s Iron Range, home for many Polish-Americans.1
Oompahs and Opinions
Back in the mid-1970s, when I was driving Interstate 94 between Minnesota’s Twin Cities and Moorhead, this part of the state was ‘polka country.’
Every radio station I found in these parts played polka.
That’s changed, but folks here still like polka. Many of them. Many of us, now. My wife and I moved here in the mid-1980s.
I’ve yet to meet someone kvetching about polka tunes at Mass. Maybe that’s due to our German heritage. Or maybe I haven’t sought out sufficiently censorious citizens.
My guess is that a few folks in my town aren’t happy about oompahs during Mass. That may, or may not, explain why our annual Polka Masses seem less exuberant these days.
I’m not sure how many folks have a concern raised in a ZENIT Q & A. Someone apparently couldn’t associate polka with anything but dancing.
A Badger Catholic blog post about polka Mass also inspired negative comments. Polka Masses are, apparently, “tacky and dated,” or “tasteless.”
Another reader apparently didn’t approve because polka is Polish, not German. I don’t know how that person would deal with learning that polka is Bohemian, too.2
But — Polish, German, Bohemian or an American hybrid — I like our annual polka Mass.
It’s not Mozart’s Great Mass in C Minor or Beethoven’s Missa solemnis in D major, but neither is what we sing at other Masses.
De Gustibus and All That
I think I understand some objections to music that doesn’t follow conventions of recent generations.
Nostalgia is a factor, likely enough.
De gustibus non est disputandum, so I can’t argue with that.
Speaking of nostalgia, “de gustibus” and so on is Latin; “in matters of taste, there can be no disputes” in my dialect of English. More or less. We’ve trimmed it down to “there’s no accounting taste.”
I’ve read that “de gustibus” is an ancient Roman proverb, which may be true. But I don’t know which collection of ancient Roman proverbs it’s supposed to be from.
The earliest source I found was a paraphrase in Fyodor Dostoevsky’s 1879-1880 “The Brothers Karamazov.”
A runner-up is Anton Chekhov’s “The Seagull,” written in 1895. And “de gustibus” still adds a touch of class to the occasional literary and scholarly work. Like Phillip K. Dick’s “Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said.”
I’ll admit that my tastes, musical and otherwise, are influenced by where and when I’m living.
And by what I’ve experienced.
I started listening to a “Christian” radio station in my teens. I was hoping to learn something that would help me deal with what I now realize was depression.
Instead, I heard ardent condemnations of communism and Catholicism mixed with pronouncements of mankind’s depravity. The station also featured enthusiastic promotions of the latest End Times Bible Prophecy books.
I didn’t take the doomsayers seriously.
I’m not sure why. Maybe because I hadn’t been brought up to believe that anyone spouting Bible verses must be right. Or maybe I noticed that the wannabe prophets and their promoters were pushing a book.
Besides, I knew that “The End Is Near” cartoons had been around for decades.
They still are.
Where was I? Oompahs during Mass. Opinions. Wannabe prophets and cartoons. Right.
Diatribes against “blasphemous jungle music” weren’t that radio station’s mainstay. But I got the impression that newfangled music or ideas were not welcome.
Unintended Consequences and Ancient Philosophers
The drip feed of guilt — and wacky prognostications based on “Biblical” numerology — helped me learn to love rock and roll. And eventually become a Catholic. (September 29, 2017; November 15, 2016)
I’m pretty sure that’s not even close to what the station’s supporters had in mind.
Decades later, I still like rock: and pretty much any music that’s played well.
And I haven’t become convinced that thou shalt be saved by Gregorian chants, Christian rock or polka. Although I enjoy all of the above.
Oddly enough, I suspect that calling musical styles good or bad isn’t entirely unreasonable.
Folks like Plato and Aristotle said that music encourages or produces attributes like virility or being at ease. Or at least affects our emotions and minds. Others didn’t agree.
About a century later, Sextus Empiricus wrote “Against the Musicians.” He apparently figured that music was useful for happiness, or maybe it wasn’t. Either way, he said theoretical discussions of music were a waste of time.
Don’t bother trying to memorize these names, not on my account. There won’t be a test.
Another Ancient Philosopher
Mozi — another name you needn’t remember — would have been a Renaissance man, if he’d lived two millennia later and been European.
He was born in Lu, a state that isn’t there any more.
We might know more about him, if Qin Shi Huang hadn’t allegedly burned scholarly texts in 212 BC. And buried scholars the next year. While they were still alive.
What we know about those incidents comes from Sima Qian’s “Records of the Grand Historian.” Sima Qian worked for the Han dynasty, about a century after Qin Shi Huang.
I gather that Qin Shi Huang, “First Emperor of Qin,” is more of a title than a name. Qin etcetera’s name is Ying Zheng or Zhao Zheng. Anyway —
Mozi wasn’t among the targeted scholars. He died a couple decades before Qin Shi Huang founded the Qin dynasty.5
The Emperor’s Unrecorded Book-Burning
Some contemporary scholars say the book-burning didn’t happen.
Mainly because there aren’t official records of the incidents. Besides, a Han dynasty scholar might have told the story to discredit Han’s predecessor.
Today’s take on the scholarly live burials seems to be that maybe some scholars were killed, but they weren’t buried alive.
And weren’t executed for being Confucian.
That may or may not need explaining. I’ll talk about it anyway.
Qin Shi Huang’s official philosophy was “legalism.” The moniker’s insufficiently accurate, and that’s yet another topic.
The point is that Qin Shi Huang’s “legalism” and Confucianism weren’t compatible. The allegedly-buried scholars were Confucians, and so — presumably — were the books. As an anti-Confucian, Mozi would have been safe. Probably.
But Mozi wouldn’t have enjoyed support from an early-Qin analog of the American Guild of Musical Artists.
He thought musical performances were a waste of time and resources. I see his point.
Particularly since he lived when the Hundred Schools of Thought overlapped the Warring States period. That was not a serene era. At all.
Confucians like Mengzi and Xunzi said music shouldn’t be judged on what my culture calls practical results, but in how it shapes morals and solidarity. Or “social cohesion, … moral and psychological development,” as the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy says.
I think Mengzi and Xunze were on the right track, too. But I grew up in the Sixties, so maybe that’s not surprising.
A couple dozen centuries after Plato and Mozi, we’ve learned more about how music affects us. And, from what I’ve read, we’re not much closer to agreeing on music’s role in our lives and societies.6
Solemnity, Sincerity and Celebration
I wouldn’t insist that all Catholic parishes must have at least one polka Mass each year. Or Gregorian chants. Or Mozart’s Great Mass in C Minor.
I do think that music and worship go together. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1156)
Liturgical music should score on three criteria: “…beauty expressive of prayer, the unanimous participation of the assembly at the designated moments, and the solemn character of the celebration….” (Catechism, 1157)
That last point, “the solemn character of the celebration,” seem to rule out polka Masses.
Polka doesn’t strike me as being particularly solemn. Not in the sense of being serious, dignified and restrained.
It’d take doing to make a polka “dark or undecorated,” as one dictionary puts it. I’m pretty sure it could be done, though.
I’ve heard “Joy to the World” played — and sung — so slowly, it sounded like a dirge. On the ‘up’ side, the next hymn wasn’t “Oh Woe, All Ye Faithful.”
On the other hand, solemn can mean “made with deep sincerity.”7
I’m pretty sure that folks can be deeply sincere without sounding like they’re singing J. S. Bach’s “Come, Sweet Death, come, blessed rest.” Maybe even upbeat and uptempo.
Bear in mind that I like Baroque and Rococo. And polka.
That doesn’t mean I think our Holy Thursday Mass should include a Bavarian brass band belting out liturgically-appropriate lyrics set to The Duck Dance’s tune.
Propriety and Perspectives
David Danced, Uzzah Died
(From James Tissot, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.) (Tissot’s “David Danced Before the Lord with All His Might.” (c. 1896-1902))
Folks clashing over “proper” religious behavior didn’t start with Vatican II.
Take David’s dance, for example.
But first, a little background. King Saul’s son, Jonathan, and David had been friends. Saul feared that David was after his throne. That led to considerable unpleasantness and, eventually, Saul’s death.
It’s complicated. On top of that, 1 and 2 Samuel don’t agree on details. Not by contemporary Western standards.
Long story short, Philistines captured the Ark, David dodged Saul’s would-be-lethal attacks and became king. Picking up the story in 2 Samuel 6, David and a massive escort are returning with the recovered Ark.
And they’re not being solemn. Not in the stuffed shirt sense.
“They transported the ark of God on a new cart and took it away from the house of Abinadab on the hill. Uzzah and Ahio, sons of Abinadab, were guiding the cart, “with Ahio walking before it, “David and all the house of Israel danced before the LORD with all their might….” (2 Samuel 6:3–5)
Two verses later, Uzzah, son of Abinadab, is dead. Struck down by God, 2 Samuel 6:7 says.
Maybe that could be a proof verse for devotees of the Perpetually Peevish God. By itself, it fits perceptions that God has anger management issues.
Michal, Saul’s daughter, berated David for dancing like a commoner. God apparently didn’t mind, though, since David stayed alive for a considerable time after that.
Uzzah, the Ark, and Blame Games
Uzzah’s death seems unfair.
God had been almost sluggish in penalizing the Philistines for disrespecting the Ark. Why pick on Uzzah?
Maybe it’s because the Philistines didn’t realize that the god of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob was — God. Uzzah did. Or should have. David, too.
What’s odd, in a way, is that God didn’t smite Abinadab, Ahio and David, too. That’s applying my culture’s ‘angry God’ belief and our notion of fairness.
Uzzah — his name means “strength” — should have known that hauling the Ark on a cart wasn’t the right way to carry it. Maybe the cart was Abinadab’s idea, and Uzzah didn’t want to correct his father. Or maybe both of them were clueless.
Either way, using a cart was a breach of protocol.
So was touching the Ark.
Abinadab and sons should have known that touching the Ark, or other sacred objects, would be lethal. (Numbers 4:15)
David would arguably have been held responsible, too. By contemporary American standards, at least. He’d been in charge of the operation.
Even if David hadn’t handled the logistics personally, he’d have noticed that the Ark was on “a new cart,” as 2 Samuel 6:3 puts it.8
Carrying the blame game into overtime, someone could accuse God of criminal negligence. I wouldn’t, but I’ve been living in a lawsuit-happy society, and that’s yet again another topic for another day.
Documentation, Folklore and Assumptions
David, Uzzah, Michal and all lived and died about three millennia back.
I think they’re real people. And that they lived in what we call the Kingdom of Israel’s United Monarchy.
That may take explaining, considering post-Enlightenment assumptions.
Documentation for the United Monarchy is almost entirely in Hebrew Sacred Scriptures: our Old Testament. What’s there doesn’t quite add up. Not by today’s literalist standards.
It was a significant player in the region, at least during Solomon’s reign. Or maybe a major annoyance, from its neighbors’ viewpoints.
The United Monarchy didn’t last long. Rehoboam started as the United Monarchy’s king and ended as king of Judah.
Assyrians conquered the southern kingdom two centuries later.
Then the Neo-Babylonian Empire’s Nebuchadnezzar II rolled over Judah. He relocated the Israelites to Babylonia. Cyrus II of Persia sent them back, and that’s another still another topic.
Since then, Israel’s territory has conquered or occupied by Persians, Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, assorted caliphates, crusaders and the Ottoman Empire. Egypt, pharaonic and contemporary, has been in the mix, too.
I’m not surprised that we don’t have detailed Assyrian, Babylonian and Persian documentation for the tribes of Issachar, Naphtali and all.
Stuff gets lost as millennia roll by: including records of minor border territories.
And some things are passed along as oral tradition, like John Henry’s life and death.
Sometimes imaginative details get added to biographies of high-profile people. Like Washington’s cherry tree incident.
And sometimes once-important places are remembered mostly in folklore and myth.
It wasn’t until fairly recently, for example, that we found evidence that Dilmun was real.
Thinking that David is a real person doesn’t mean I believe that the Bible is word-for-word true: by contemporary Western standards.9
Time, Place and Being Appropriate
Music and (Sometimes) Dance
Maybe music that’s associated with dancing isn’t appropriate for Mass.
And maybe themed Masses take focus away from the reason we’re worshiping.
On the other hand, maybe recognizing regional culture a few times a year is a good idea. (Catechism, 1202)
I suspect that America’s Puritan heritage doesn’t help us accept insufficiently-Puritan practices. Not that all Puritans were fanatical killjoys.
They apparently believed that setting Psalms to music was okay. Choral singing and organs, not so much.
Liturgical dance wasn’t part of Puritan worship. The last I checked, it’s not allowed in Catholic worship either. Not in my part of the world.
Liturgical dance is allowed, even encouraged, in some other cultures.10
I think liturgical dance is a good idea. But we’re not ready for it. Not yet.
But polka Mass? I figure it’s not appropriate for celebrations like Holy Thursday or the Feast of the Holy Innocents. But otherwise, I don’t have a problem with it.
Constants and Variables
Song and music have been and are an important part of Catholic worship. (Catechism, 1156-1158))
That hasn’t changed.
But sacred music’s form and style?
That’s been changing, and still is.
Gregorian chants, for example, didn’t catch on until Gregory I’s day. Give or take a few generations.
Some of us, mostly musical specialists, are still singing them. But monophonic plainsongs haven’t been current for centuries.
Likely enough, some folks had conniptions when a mix of Roman and Gallican chants started replacing Ambrosian chants. Today, a millennium later, Gregorian chants seem like something we’ve always done.
A millennium from now, maybe some Catholics will be complaining about newfangled Mass music because it isn’t like Missa Luba.
Or Mass in F Minor by The Electric Prunes. Or polka Mass music. Or whatever traditional (lower-case “t”) sacred music sounded like in their ‘good old days.’11
With or without liturgical dance, and whatever sort of music is involved, Mass is a big deal. Talking about that means backing up about two millennia.
“This is My Body”
Public Relations and Peter
(From James Tissot, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.) (Tissot’s “Last Supper.” (c. 1886-1894))
That’s when Jesus added something to the procedure described in Exodus 12.
“Then he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me.’ “And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which will be shed for you.” (Luke 22:19–20)
The Apostles didn’t seem shocked by being told to eat our Lord’s body and drink his blood. Most likely, I figure, because they’d heard it before.
Like the time our Lord’s followers caught up with him in Capernaum.
“Jesus said to them, ‘Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day.” (John 6:53–54)
Saying “eat me” to his followers wasn’t a smart move. Not from a public relations viewpoint. Quite a few disciples didn’t like what they heard and left. (John 6:60–66)
Others realized that, like it or not, following Jesus of Nazareth was the only viable option.
“Jesus then said to the Twelve, ‘Do you also want to leave?’ “Simon Peter answered him, ‘Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. “We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.'” (John 6:67–69)
A Very Big Deal
Claiming divinity has a long history, from Naram-Sin to Aleister Crowley and his Thelema religion.12
What’s different about our Lord’s claim is that a few days after being executed, Jesus stopped being dead. (April 21, 2019)
That got the surviving disciples’ attention. (Acts 1:6–12, 2:1–41)
Where was I? Polka. Gregorian chants. Truth and Aleister Crowley. Right.
Someone started calling that famous Passover celebration the Last Supper. Maybe it was St. Augustine of Hippo, in Tracate 109. Maybe it was someone else. Whoever coined the term, it caught on.
I was born a couple millennia after the Last Supper, but I’ve been there. Often. In a way.
I’m a Catholic, so Mass is a big deal for me. That’s because Jesus of Nazareth is a big deal.
Every time we hear ‘this is my body … this is my blood,’ we’re with our Lord at that Passover meal, and Golgotha, and beyond.
We call Mass the Holy Sacrifice, among other things, “…because it makes present the one sacrifice of Christ the Savior and includes the Church’s offering….” (Catechism, 1322-1405, especially 1330)
Jesus is really there, in the Eucharist: physically present, even though my senses tell me that the unleavened bread and wine are still bread and wine. (Catechism, 1324-1327, 1378)
And that, as I’ve said, is a big deal. A very big deal.
In the Adoration Chapel
Hanging Out With Our Lord
(Monstrance holding the Eucharist in St. Paul’s St. Faustina Adoration Chapel.)
The St. Faustina Adoration Chapel isn’t about adoring St. Faustina Kowalska, although her Divine Mercy devotion is important in this town.
The Adoration Chapel is a place set aside for Eucharistic adoration.14
It’s a room with stained glass windows, an altar and monstrance, benches, chairs, and varying numbers of folks apparently doing nothing much except being quiet.
Some of them will be reading. Some are praying or just sitting there. When I’m there, I’ll be reading or just sitting there. Apparently.
What we’ve got in common — I assume — is that we’re all there to adore our Lord.
Adoration, acknowledging that God’s God and I’m not, is my first reasonable attitude toward God. (Catechism, 2628, 2096-2096)
For me, part of adoration is spending an hour a week, sometimes more, in the Adoration Chapel. Health and weather permitting.
I’ve got options for how I spend my time there.
Sometimes I’ll pick up a Bible or Catechism from the bookshelves. Sometimes a book about Saints or being Catholic.
This week I took one of the ‘an hour with Jesus’ booklets from the pamphlet rack. It had topics for meditation and contemplation, prayers: more material than I could handle in two or more hours, judging from how far I got.
Sometimes I’ll just come in, pay my respects, (silently) say a short prayer and chill out. That sounds less highfalutin than saying that I send my mind on a quest: seeking why and how I should live, so that I might “adhere and respond to what the Lord is asking.” (Catechism, 2705)
Quite often, I don’t come with any particular goal in mind. Other than hanging out with our Lord. Which, again, is a big deal.
“EUCHARIST: The ritual, sacramental action of thanksgiving to God which constitutes the principal Christian liturgical celebration of and communion in the paschal mystery of Christ. The liturgical action called the Eucharist is also traditionally known as the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. It is one of the seven sacraments of the Church; the Holy Eucharist completes Christian initiation (1322 ff.). The Sunday celebration of the Eucharist is at the heart of the Church’s life (2177). See Mass.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, Glossary)
“MASS: The Eucharist or principal sacramental celebration of the Church, established by Jesus at the Last Supper, in which the mystery of our salvation through participation in the sacrificial death and glorious Resurrection of Christ is renewed and accomplished. The Mass renews the paschal sacrifice of Christ as the sacrifice offered by the Church. It is called “Mass” (from the Latin missa) because of the “mission” or “sending” with which the liturgical celebration concludes. (Latin: ‘Ite, Missa est.’) (1322; cf. 1088, 1382, 2192). See Eucharist; Paschal Mystery/Sacrifice.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, Glossary)
“TRANSUBSTANTIATION: The scholastic term used to designate the unique change of the Eucharistic bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ. ‘Transubstantiation’ indicates that through the consecration of the bread and the wine there occurs the change of the entire substance of the bread into the substance of the Body of Christ, and of the entire substance of the wine into the Blood of Christ—even though the appearances or ‘species’ of bread and wine remain (1376).” (Catechism, Glossary)
“Sacramentum Caritatis“ Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation on the Eucharist as the Source and Summit of the Church’s Life and Mission, Benedict XVI (February 22, 2007)
Keep up with A Catholic Citizen in America: subscribe. (below) (Don't worry, I won't bug you. Check out my Privacy Policy.)
Weekly Schedule
Something new each Saturday.
Life, the universe and my circumstances permitting. I'm focusing on 'family stories' at the moment. ("A Change of Pace: Family Stories" (11/23/2024))
Blog - David Torkington
Spiritual theologian, author and speaker, specializing in prayer, Christian spirituality and mystical theology [the kind that makes sense-BHG]
I was born in 1951. I'm a husband, father and grandfather. One of the kids graduated from college in December, 2008, and is helping her husband run businesses and raise my granddaughter; another is a cartoonist and artist; #3 daughter is a writer; my son is developing a digital game with #3 and #1 daughters. I'm also a writer and artist.
The book’s publisher is Word on Fire.
The St. Faustina Adoration Chapel isn’t about adoring St. Faustina Kowalska, although her Divine Mercy devotion is important in this town.
