C.S. Lewis is on Lost?!?!?
In response to the query: "What is a Pull Question?"
Labels: G.K. Chesterton, Pull Questions, THI, Torture, What's wrong with the world?
A small memorial for us to remember.
Once again, a version of Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2- this time covered by Pillar, not George W. Bush, and put to a video compiled from the movie Saving Private Ryan.
Let us remember the spilled blood that keeps us alive today.
Since informing you of "the Day the Mexicans saved the World", I have started at least five posts, and abandoned all of them, running off to plan set lists, write term papers, read Spenser, and work on a Broken December remix of Kanye West's Heartless.
The Spanish, British, and French armies invade Mexico to seize the port city of Veracruz and exact tribute from Mexican ships; but since they were already there, the French decided to invade Mexico, conquer it, and then proceed to invade the United States and give support to the Confederacy in the Civil War (A situation Newt Geingrich has explored in alternate history novels).
Think of the wretched state the world would be in without the United States of America. . .without even the Confederate States of America, but more than likely a French puppet government! Oh, who shall save us now?
The Spanish and British, being less tyranical than the French, withdrew, but France still seemed more than capable of taking over the fledgling state of Mexico, outnumbering all defending forces with it's famous army, undefeated champions of the world for fifty years running!
On the fifth of May, the French passed through a small city of Puebla on their way to the capital. For some strange reason, the French General assumed he would be met with open arms, and that the people of the city would fight against the insignificant defending forces. Unfortunately for him and fortunately for the world, he was wrong!
The French tried their proven "Unprotected-bayonet-charge-over-open-land-without-firing-a-shot" strategy, which, when matched against the Mexican "Keep-shooting-until-they're-all-dead" strategy, was somewhat less than productive. Let's just say, the Mexicans won.
And so, the Mexicans defeated the French, and although they were briefly able to hold Mexico as a colony, soon, the U.S. sent miliatary aid, and the French presence in Mexico was, uhhmm, removed.
And so, while it may be that the U.S. could have survived a French Invasion, it is perhaps not improper for us to see the providence of God at work in this David and Goliath story.
And besides, if, on St. Patrick's day, the Irish can claim to have preserved civilisation by spreading Christianity to the British isles, then on this Cinco de Mayo, this fifth of May, we Mexicans can certainly claim to have done no less than save the world.
*The President of Mexico actually just told the European nations that he had annuled the debt himself. . .the creditors were not amused.
There are few things in life more beautiful than an unexpected goodness.
This past friday, I put on one of my favorite coats. As I donned the said coat, I was surprised at it's weight. I recalled that I have a bad habit of not emptying my pockets when I hang up my coats.
item: 68 cents in change.
While the last two items were not particularly exciting, I was very happy indeed to discover the money and the pick.
I don't know about y'all, but I am plagued with a propensity to see the world as a dark place. . . Which the world can be sometimes. . . not because of the minor problems and annoyances that I sometimes want to whine about, but because of the reality of human sin and evil.
My teacher, Mr. Bartel, shared an anecdote a few weeks ago that made me wonder at how we look at the holocaust, and indeed at all evil.
We were sitting around a table in Shakespeare class, reading aloud outlines of our term papers. A paper on Shylock led us into a brief discussion on anti-semitism. Mr. Bartel remarked on the insight that Jewish scholars give to an understanding of anti-semitism.
"An old Jewish professor once told us: 'the holocaust is boring'. We sat in awkward silence and then asked 'Why do you say that, sir?' He said 'Well, yeah, it was a great evil, and lots of people died, but why would we be interested in that? It's evil. Evil is boring.
The Good is what should interest us."
Now, the goodness of rediscovered funds and guitar picks is but the slightest example of goodness; there is so much more in this world for which to live our lives, through which to seek glimpses of the greatest goodness Himself.
There's a lot wrong with this world; but neither wars nor protest marches solve it. Poetry cannot solve it, academic honesty cannot solve it.
This world will never be set right, or even make any significant change for the better, until people learn to seek goodness above all else.
It's a sort of terrible irony that sometimes, when we need to talk to someone, it becomes impossible to do so.
Right now, I find myself in need of conversation. . .
with a real person, not an electronic fiction designed to represent them.
Not even the lovliest or most lifelike of photographs.
Not even the electronic vibrations masquerading as a human voice. . .
To speak to another human being, to know that they not only comprehend the thread of your conversation, but also that they understand and empathize, that they catch the look in your eyes, the "otherness" and "sameness" communicated by stance, by that way you fold your hands. . .
Okay, so this is ridiculous and emo. so shoot me. I may be glad of a second death.
The point is, I need to talk to someone right now, and an electronic fiction, horrid though it be, would suffice. But Alas! those with whom I wish to speak are otherwise occupied. . .my dearest Sister is sleeping, since there's this whole "time-difference" thing between L.A. and Virginia (crazy, right?) and it seems that all my other close friends are at a church retreat.
And for those who are left, even Facebook has stopped working!
I love spring in California. I love every season in California(though I sometimes wish winters were harsher and summers less so), and the past few weeks have been very grateful for the emancipating feeling of sunset and gentle breeze that so epitomizes spring in California. . . but sometimes it can be too emancipating.
The one thing I hate most about spring and summer in Cali is the whole spring-and-summer evening feeling, a sort of openess in the cool air.
But the openess seems too open. . .as if the expanse never ends, more like hell than heaven.
I walked outside, and predictably, it was one of those nights. The very stars and moon were cold, and for once, Orion seemed to shake his spear at me. . .
Sometimes, we need to be shocked and outraged, to face what may make us uncomfortable in the day to day..
From now on, a counter will appear on my blog, counting off how many babies have been legally murdered since the page was opened. . .the numbers change at an obscenely rapid pace.
There is much to say about abortion, from many different viewpoints. I respect the opinions of many who disagree with me. . .but I cannot respect the consequences of these opinions; and the consequeces are that that counter keeps on rolling, that out country is still stained red with the blood of innocents.
I am not giving my full views on abortion now, simply because there is much to say, and I am as yet unprepared to give a complete case against it. . .but the following is some of what is nearest to my heart, especially regarding the Church and abortion.
I understand that abortion is not the only issue in American politics; but for me, it is the matter by which all the others are eclipsed. Maybe there are some more important issues. . .but if so, I can't seem to recall them. If this makes me one of the "Religious Right" that Liberals and "educated" Republicans laugh at, so be it.
I have no patience for Christians who scoff at the pro-life movement.
"I think it's stupid to vote based on Abortion. Just me, but I don't get what the big deal is"
So said a well-meaning Christian man to me one day, in between smiles and jokes about why we would lose the election. . .
In the end, I don't know if abortion is the greatest battle we face today. . .like most causes, it is probably just a great battle in the midst of this great war. . .but it is no consequence. Either way, it is a battle, and I will fight it.
As For Techno. . .
I guess this is more specifically Techno/Rock. . .the band is And Then There Were None, new from Tooth and Nail. The video is crazy, but hey. It's fun stuff.
Some days(like last week when I last tried to post) you find it hard to write because you have nothing to say, prey to that vicious disease of Writer's Block.
And some days you find it hard to write because you have too much to say.
Much of this shall be unrelated randomness, so I shall begin with the Feast of St. Valentine.
Now, I admit it: I have spent my fair share of time celebrating SAD(Singles Awareness Day). But I have come to deeply appreciate St. Valentine, and his holiday, despite the way our culture may have hijacked it.
Anyway, as you can assume, that all changed(I now write like a wannabe G.K. Chesterton).
Like most changes in life, this one was facilitated by Torrey Academy. It was actually February 14th, and I was sitting in my seat, ready for Inklings Class to begin. . .
When Mr. Bartel walked into the room.
The legendary tutor of the Faith of our Fathers Class before ours, the class that read authors with only one name(Petrarch, Athanasius, Dante!);the imposing figure that was always dressed like an Oxford Professor; the legendary poet and hilarious joker: Mr. Bartel, the Master Tutor of Torrey Academy.
He walked in, and announced that he would be co-tutoring along with Ms. Maraldo for the purpose of giving us a Valentine's Day devotional. And he proceeded to do so.
Now, the facts, apart from the legend(which I find no great reason to disbelieve) are that he was simply a martyr in Rome. My copy of Englebert's The Live's of the Saints states that there were two Valentine's, the early Roman and another, who have been condensed into one Saint. This might explain the confusion of details. At any rate, we celebrate his Martyrdom on the 14th, while there was a Pagan love holiday on the 15th, which was absorbed into St. Valentine's Day.
The fact is, the dude existed. Period. He might not have been intrinsically linked to Christian Marraige, but hey, I like legends, and I see no reason to disbelieve all of them except the universal cynicism our time is prey to. At any rate, he has become the Patron of Christian marraige. And I think he's pretty darn awesome, if I say so myself.
The legend really needed no explanation, but Mr. Bartel went on. I honestly can't remember the specifics, but I do remember the jist of it, and that one thing he did was set the story in modern times: "What if marraige was outlawed in San Dimas?" said he (From this, an astute mind might gather that the class met in San Dimas).
The point is, I, along with most of y'all who read this, are not married. Why should we care about how awesome Christian marraige is? But look at it a little philosophically: does a thing's essential quality change simply because of our relation to it or opinion regarding it? If I have refuse to believe in New York, does that mean it doesn't exist? If I have never been a Marine and cannot bring myself to believe that Marine's use M16 assault rifles, does that change the fact that they do? No. So while I have no personal experience with matrimony, I still revere it. It really would take Mr. Bartel(and a few great poets) to try and make someone understand why marraige is so great. I will leave it at this: A man's love for his wife is an image of Christ's love for His Church. Learning how to love another human being, romantically or platonically, is an essential part of being human.
And of being Christian, which I think is ultimately a part of being a good person.
But think about it. We might admire a pagan, a man who could not love God aright; could we admire a man who could not love a woman?
Anyway, like I said, I cannot do the wonder of St. Valentine's day justice. Someday I will write more about this. . .especially given Dante and Lewis' views on the matter. Ah, Beatrice.
I don't think I can impress upon you how much I love Dante.
Of course, a powerful word: but doubting the love of God never really occurs to me. Regardless of the beauty of God's forgiveness and unconditional love, my heart was still in a loathsome state. I knew I needed to glimpse an image of God's unfathomable love.
So I reached for Dr. Esolen's translation of Paradise.
presso a colui ch'ogne torto disgrava".
che non pur ne' miei occhi e paradiso".
"When she who'd led me unto God began,/'Let your thoughts change, for I am near the Lord./ the One who lifts the yoke of every wrong.'/I turned unto my comfort when I heard/ her kindly voice, and saw such depth of love/ in her blest eyes, I give up, for no word / Can claim my confidence, and, even more,/ unless Another guides it, memory / cannot retutn from heights so far above / It's power. But as I gazed, my soul was free / of all it's many cravings to posess / anything else- for that much I can say, / because the everlasting winsomeness / shone upon Beatrice, from whose lovely eyes / reflected radiance contented me / Conquering with the flashing of a smile, / she said to me, 'Listen now, turn around- / my eyes are not the only Paradise'."
And, yeah, I cried. In truth, I find the statements "Real Men don't cry" and "Real men aren't afraid to cry" to be equally ridiculous. I think the matter of crying depends on what one is crying. Real men cry at great sorrow or beauty; For example, Charlemayn at the death of Roland. Real men do not cry over their stubbed toe or injured pride. I did not quite bawl or weep, but I am proud to own up to the fact that I did indeed cry.
He will always be awesome, and no matter what Harold Bloom says, he will always be awesomer than Shakespeare.
That brings me to today. . .err, yesterday, since it's now 1:18 AM. I spent Monday reading literary criticism. . .and Harold Bloom is the second stupidest genius I have ever read(Phillip Pullman comes first. I think Richard Dawkins may top Bloom, but I haven't read him yet. Pullman stays number one). Anyway, yes, Shakespeare is awesome, but no, Mr. Bloom, he is not God. Bardolatry is worse than irreverent; it is stupid. Shakespeare may have written the greatest literature to ever be written in the English Language(correction: he did). But seriously. . . speaking purely as literary figures, Hamlet is nowhere near Jesus in importance, as Bloom claims. Shakespeare makes me want to be a better poet. . .but not a better person. Dante does both. Shakepeare at best can make me laugh a lot, or feel depressed. He cannot fill me with Joy.
Maybe a premature judgement, but I think it is one I shall hold to for a while.
Anyway, there is still much to write about(Finances, College choices, the correlation between Love and Money, Brave Saint Saturn's New Album, and my discovery of the first Techno band that I actually enjoy listening to!).
But it is late, and I want to read more Dante.
First off, I never thought anything could raise George W. Bush in my esteem. . .seriously, I love the guy. And though I pray that God Bless President Obama, I really miss Dubya, and can't stand hearing all the mindless Bush-Hatred.