Two updates on the dissenters up the street

First, from the newsletter of the Lutheran hosts of the dissenting group:

One recent Saturday prior to the [dissenting group’s] mass [sic] at 5:30 there were a couple of picketers stationed in the parking lot at [location]. It seems there is some objection to the freedom of the Gospel.

To characterize what Ben and others did as an objection to any aspect of the Gospel is remarkably inaccurate and mean-spirited. It’s quite clear that the people were there to invite those who have separated themselves from the Church to return. Of course St. Paul had a great deal to say about the freedom of the Gospel -- which the Lutheran congregation and the dissenters would take great issue.

Second, the hard copy of the Denver Catholic Register’s official notices mention that the leader of the dissenting group has been dismissed, on his own request, from his order as of September 17 and that he no longer has faculties in the diocese. This is the first time I remember seeing an official notice of a priest not having faculties.

Frabjuosity aboundeth, yea even unto the frumious

In glorious contrast with yesterday, today is perfectly autumnal. It was about 30 degrees for the morning walk, with light snow. The cool and snow isn’t just an aesthetic delight, though, it’s a real answer to prayer as regards the two wildfires that started yesterday. My blood must have thinned, though, as I found myself regretting that I hadn’t worn gloves for the morning walk. Mr. Puppy’s husky instincts were roused by the snow. He had a tiger in his tank this morning and now, so do I.

The further adventures of Media Critic Guy

Three things on the tube caught my attention in the past few days.

1. A commercial – Tony the Tiger is on an airplane, a few seats away we see Mr. Peanut – nonplussed when the stewardess offers him a bag of peanuts. Cut to the hamburger helper hand hitchhiking. Next the Keebler elves waiting at a bus stop. Then the Pillsbury doughboy is riding the rails and having the time of his life. This whole crew, and many more product icons, meet in the parking lot of SuperTarget (a Target with a grocery store attached). The end of the commercial is pure Lileks.

2. Another Target commercial, the one with Roy Orbison’s “You’ve Got It”. It had more different scenes in one 30 second spot that some movies from the 1930s had in two hours. This is what’s become of the music video, which died about ten years ago. The quirky camera angles, the startling juxtaposition of visual with lyrics, visual cues tied to changes in rhythm or tempo – it’s all there. Of course since music videos started as commercials anyway, it really shouldn’t be much of a surprise.


3. In total contrast to the Target commercial was a PBS station’s replay of a program from 1973. It was Bobby Darin’s last TV special. Can the quirky angles and the quick cuts from one camera to another. Ol’ Mackie wanted to show the world that he was as hep as could be, so he chose some material that most wouldn’t associate with him: Bridge Over Troubled Waters, Midnight Special and Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher would be prime examples. Mr. Darin died about nine months after the show, his last recorded performance, aired. While the singing was terrific (as were his impressions), there were parts of the show that words cannot describe and that absolutely must be seen to be believed. For a few minutes I actually wondered if Mr. Darin realized that this show would be seen by generations yet unborn and that realization caused him to die of embarrassment at his dance moves. You’ve just got to see it. Really. (Disclaimer: I am a big Darin fan who is awaiting, with bated breath, the Bobby Darin biography currently in production “Beyond the Sea” starring Kevin Spacey and mean no disrespect to Mr. Darin or his family by the above comments. But those dance moves -- Yikes!)

In all likelihood, the only time this site can ever be better than Disputations

Which Dr. Seuss character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

A few reasons for quiet lately.

For one, I’ve had the good fortune of getting an upper respiratory infection that turned to a sinus infection. On October 17 a co-worker came in with the worst cough I’ve ever heard. She insisted on staying at work all day and the whole next week too. She’s still coughing today. Now over two-thirds of the people in the office are sick and our little Typhoid Mary thinks (a) it’s funny and (b) she has no responsibility for spreading the germs throughout the office. (Several folks who report to her want to do the right thing and take time off, but are out of their combined sick/vacation time. I’d say Typhoid Mary ought to at least donate her vacation time to them.)

This week – the first week after we “fall back” – is always the most depressing week of the year for me. I don’t care for leaving work on time, heading straight home and arriving after dark. Even seeing the sun come up early is depressing because it reminds me how soon it will be down again. The past few days haven’t even had the consolation of being comfortable – today it’s supposed to get to 80 degrees.

The fires in SoCal are, of course, depressing too. Several folks I know have been evacuated and others are waiting for the shoe to drop.

And in my life, I find myself to be Jonah again.

As if there were any question

Congratulations!! You're a smart sophisticated and
beautiful martini!!


What Drink Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Some time ago I blogged about a group of "dissenting" Catholics that have started to celebrate some form of Mass at a Lutheran church. I know the priest who is the leader of the group (for blogging purposes I call him "Fr. P"), but had read that there were three priests. I recently found out who the other two are. They are both connected with the order that Fr. P had left. It appears that neither have been involved in parish ministry in the Denver archdiocese in the recent past. Apparently their "dissent" has two main prongs:

1. unpopular (and widely disregarded) precepts of moral theology; and
2. the manner of governance of the Church.

So they really are pretty much are akin to Call to Action or Voice of the Faithful.

Now that I know more about their clergy membership and the gravamen of their dissent, I'm hoping to find out more about the lay element. By the way, I'm not just doing this out of curiousity. I want to help to resolve this sad situation.

There's a reason I call him an honest lefty. Even if you don't usually like him (or have never even heard of him), please read the first October 25 post on Kausfiles.

Time for a quiz of my own. Since there are some Coloradoans who read this blog, it seems a good topic.

You’re probably a real Coloradoan if

1. You find it odd when the difference between the day’s high temperature and the low is less than ten degrees, but it doesn’t faze you at all if that difference is forty degrees.

2. A completely overcast day with absolutely no sunshine is both rather depressing and sort of novel.

3. You have stories from the Blizzard of [fill in year of your choice] that involve a 4x4 getting stuck in a snowdrift. Bonus points for each time you dug out someone else’s 4x4 on your street.

4. You don’t know whether Christmas Day will be perfect for trying out the new sled, the new bike or both until some time on December 25.

5. You’ve ever convinced someone to eat rocky mountain oysters and/or lamb fries (unless that someone’s yourself!).

6. You know where several mountain springs are and occasionally stop at one.

7. You know why CSU’s ram is named “Cam”.

8. You’ve had Merlino’s.

9. You’ve driven to the top of a mountain just to get the doughnuts.

10. You still call interstate 25 the Valley Highway.

11. You know where the Alferd Packer Grill is. (Bonus points if you've eaten there.)

12. You know how the locals pronounce “Buena Vista”, “Genoa”, “Arriba” and “Arvada”.

13. You have more than one favorite ghost town. (Bonus points if one or more is on the plains rather than in the mountains.)

14. When people mention “Golden Gate Park”, you don’t think of San Francisco.

15. You’ve goosed the moose at the Buck Snort.

The following is in no way meant to minimize the fact that I am remarkably sinful. I still am of the opinion that St. Paul could truthfully write that he was the chief of sinners simply because I was not yet on the scene.

In 1981 I acquired a very bad habit – well, that year I acquired a few bad habits, but there’s one in particular that’s germane*. Lots of my time and energy were spent in pursuit of this habit over the years. For more years than I care to recount, this habit was very nearly a daily part of my life.

Through the grace of God as dispensed in the sacraments of His Church, I rejoice to say that it’s now been a full year since I indulged in that habit. Better yet, I find that my old habit repulses me. I can actually envision living a long life without ever going back to that habit, when just a few months ago it was hard to forego any chance to go back to the habit.

That’s not to say there isn’t room for improvement in every part of my life – there certainly is. It is to say that there’s hope for the much-needed improvement. My making it a whole year away from that habit is a pretty sure confirmation that nothing is impossible with God.

There really wasn't any Damascus road moment either. There were lots of little things. Archbishop Chaput's homily on All Saints Day, several incidents in the confessional, a weekday Mass in May all gave me what I needed at that moment. With all of my habitual sins, then, I now have a general strategy and, more importantly, real hope.

*I don’t know of any good reason to describe it in detail, but suffice to say that it violates multiple commandments. Any really sinful habit a reader might have is probably generally comparable.

Even a stopped clock is right twice a day, but the media . . .

The ODT version of The Denver Post has an interesting front page. There are only two items above the fold. On the left side of the page is a touching photo of a little girl looking plaintively at the casket containing the remains of her friend - a four year old girl who had been killed by her mother last week*. On the right side of the page is the banner headline "'Partial Birth' Ban Approved".

So why is it that the when a woman kills the child she conceived roughly 50 months ago it's a tragedy, but when a woman kills a child she's conceived, say, 37 weeks ago, it's so normative that any effort to stop it is mocked and belittled?

*The deranged woman also killed her son. She is in need of many prayers.

Strange thoughts occasioned by strange days

For quite a while now – it’s hard to say just how long – we’ve been having very odd weather. When I take Mr. Puppy for morning walkies, the sun has yet to peer over the horizon and it’s pleasantly cool – roughly 42 Fahrenheit. As we walk, the sky is ringed with soft glimmers of color and I wonder if our culture’s use of pale colors around babies arises from the predominance of pastels at daybreak. By the time I get to work, it’s starting to get a bit too warm for comfort outside. By lunch it’s an oppressive eighty-something out. It’s a long hot walk to the car after work. When I get home, it’s still warmer than I’d prefer, but waiting for the evening stroll is a poor idea as the sun slips behind the front range. Dusk, in contrast to the sunrise, lacks any subtlety. Helios goes gently into no night.

Yesterday afternoon’s walk had a pleasant surprise for me and one for the furry little fellow. I was delighted to find that the air in the heart of the park was a good ten degrees cooler than that in the neighborhood in general – something that often is the case in winter as the park is so much less insulated. On our return from the park, we saw one of the cottontails that’s taken to the first block away from the park. When Mr. Puppy is hot on the trail of prey, his whole demeanor changes. He suddenly is charged with high purpose. Despite all that people have done to dogs over the millennia to breed for this trait and that, instinct still has great power. So it is for us. When we get to those few moments where we allow ourselves to be our true selves, everything changes. “Our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee.”

He didn’t catch the bunny, but he was happy that he’d prevailed and made it run. May I be more happy for by brief encounters with God than saddened by the descent from the mountaintop.

Just one thing missing

. .. from InstaPundit's best post ever. They could frame it as either a series of very late term abortions, as the inalienable right to die as exerted by legally designated kin or as a combination of both.

Courtesy of Two Sleepy Mommies, well, really just one of them, but anyway:

I'm a O95-C79-E15-A3-N71 Big Five!!

Actually not as hokey as some such quizzes. I am Open to new experiences, relatively Conscientious, not very Extroverted, not the least bit Agreeable and a bit prone to Nervousness.

So there.

St. Blog’s is rightly abuzz regarding the slow-motion murder of Terri Schindler-Schiavo and the efforts against it. Seems to me there are four things that an ordinary person can do:

1. Pray;

2. Tell others about what’s going on – an excellent reference to this end is Times Against Humanity;

3. Impress upon the civil authorities the importance of saving Terri’s life and preventing similar murders in the future; and

4. Contribute financially to those who are ministering to the people at the scene, such as Fr. Rob Johansen.

Of course people who are in the vicinity can do more. Many of them are. They also need our prayerful support. Pete Vere in particular comes to mind.

While all of this is going on, there are other injustices still worthy of attention. I hope no one is offended by this observation.

A large-scale attack against several internet hosting companies is in its second day. Sites such as Instapundit are inaccessible. The rationale for the attack is that the hosts who are being attacked host sites that don’t support the annihilation of the Jewish people.

Meanwhile, Disney has removed Gregg Easterbrook’s weekly column from espn.com, citing a blog entry of his on an entirely unrelated site. (The blog entry was, as is usual for Easterbrook, thoughtful. In it he critiqued Hollywood’s propensity for glamorizing violence – particularly in films for global distribution. He also observed that it is particularly off-putting for a Jewish studio executive to distribute films that promote violence as so much violence in the world in the past several years has been directed specifically against Jews.)

I’ve long disliked Disney for many reasons, but this is the final straw. Whether Disney caved in to spurious claims of anti-Semitism (soundly rebuffed by many people who have known Easterbrook for decades) or, as is more likely, attacked Easterbrook because he dared to criticize Disney pasha Michael Eisner, Disney has proven itself yet again to be a bully and a dullard.

The common thread? All of these – Mr. Schiavo’s quest to end his wife’s life, the jihad against Israel and the glamorization of violence – are part of the culture of death and all of them have proud (and fundamentally unchallenged) places in global mass media. All of them also depend on varying degrees of keeping the truth about the situation in question from being made known.

"Sanctify us in Your truth. Your word is truth!"

In case you haven't seen this yet at Chez Shea

Urgent Action needed . . .

Here's what needs to happen. Call and/or write James King in the Florida Legislature and demand that emergency legislation be passed immediately--today--to create a moratorium on starving/dehydration such as Terri is being forced to endure.

Phone: 850-487-5229 or 850-487-5030

king.james@leg.state.fl.us

No time to lose! Please circulate this as far and wide as you can.

UPDATE: It's my understanding that, as of August 21, Mr. King's role is done for the time being and the question is being posed to the Florida State Senate. For more updates, please consult Times Against Humanity.

Since the baseball season is approaching its climax (or its nadir, depending on your point of view), I thought it good to post this quote that comes from baseball, but has a great deal to say in any situation:

All blame is a waste of time. No matter how much fault you find with another, and regardless of how much you blame him, it will not change you. The only thing blame does is to keep the focus off you when you are looking for external reasons to explain your unhappiness or frustration. You may succeed in making another feel guilty about something by blaming him, but you won't succeed in changing whatever it is about you that is making you unhappy.

Source? Casey Stengel, of all people. Of course holy men and women for all time have said the same thing in other words.

Pete Vere posts an interesting theory on the Terri Schindler-Schiavo murder: that the money isn’t really the issue and that Michael Schindler may have even more nefarious reasons for wanting his wife to die.

Then I’d propose a deal be struck where (1) Terri’s family, on her behalf, waives any right to bring a civil suit against Michael for anything that happened prior to the date of the release, whether known or unknown to them at the time of the release and (2) the state Attorney General gives immunity to Michael for any crime committed against Terri prior to the date of the release in exchange for Michael (a) consenting to resuming both palliative and rehabilitative care and (b) consenting to the divorce.

There would probably have to be some other splashier public concessions made to Michael so it didn’t look like he is just trying to escape the legal consequences of some past acts, but it could be a strategy worth pursuing.

Thoughts on a very dark day

I haven’t posted yet on the Terri Schindler-Schiavo murder. I was under the mistaken impression that somehow the murder would have been prevented before it started yesterday. It has started.

At least there are reports that Terri is no longer being denied pastoral care during her murder.

A few thoughts from my admitted odd perspective:

1. This murder, taking place in and under the auspices of a licensed healthcare facility, shows that too much of what is done by those charged with preserving human life is diametrically opposed to their putative mission. It makes it all the more important that authentic Catholic healthcare – fully and zealously committed to “carrying out the healing ministry of Jesus” – be supported by the entire Church.

2. The hospice where the murder is taking place exists for the ostensible purpose of allowing those who are terminally ill to receive palliative care and preparation for a gentle death with their family – Terri Schindler-Schiavo should not even be there for at least the following:
a. there’s no evidence that she has an actual terminal illness – she’s already been there for three years (and the usual outside limit of hospice care is six months);
b. the hospice is clearly not providing palliative care; and
c. the hospice is preventing the dying person’s family from reasonable visits with her.

3. All hospice plans of care are to be drafted and approved by an interdisciplinary team that generally includes a physician, a nurse and some sort of a counselor. In the cases of a patient with a known religious affiliation, it’s generally a pastoral counselor. The Schindler family should have the opportunity to contact the members of this interdisciplinary team.

4. Should the hospice refuse to address the Schindler family’s concerns, I would advise that the family should instigate complaints with the appropriate state regulatory agency in an effort to have the hospice’s license revoked.

5. Should the treating physician continue in his refusal to provide basic nutrition to Terri, I would advise that the family inst instigate complaints with the appropriate state regulatory agency in an effort to have the physician’s license to practice medicine revoked.

6. In the more immediate term, since much of the speculation regarding Michael Schiavo’s rationale for his course of action centers on his financial gain in the event of Terri’s death, has anyone tried to determine if there’s a way that Catholics could ransom Terri by paying an indemnity to Michael if he would (a) restore feeding and (b) divorce Terri so that decisions regarding her medical care would revert to her family members?

7. If Michael’s refusal to divorce Terri is based on something other than the money, do we know what that might be and how we might find a way to convince him of some other way of attaining his goal short of seeking Terri’s death?

8. We must persist in every reasonable effort to prevent the completion of this murder and the normalization of euthanasia, no matter how feeble or futile our efforts may seem.

9. Hard as it is to remember under these circumstances we must remember, "All things work together for good to them that love God and that are chosen according to His purposes".

An unhappy update

Back in May I posted about a priest who had left his order, applied for incardination into the Archdiocese of Denver and was denied. In the first posting I called him Fr. P – I’ll continue to do so here.

I had quit thinking much about Fr. P’s status, until I heard rumors of the priest in question celebrating Masses in a protestant church. That didn’t sound quite right. I later saw him dressed in clerical garb. That also didn’t seem right. So I’ve done a little digging and found something rather upsetting. The quote immediately below comes from a May sermon delivered at a Lutheran church in Denver (proper names edited so as not to give publicity where none is due):

A few weeks ago I was visited by a Roman Catholic Priest, Father P. Father P was
representing a group of Roman Catholics whose dedication to the freedom of the Gospel has put them on the “outs” with the current bishop [sic] of the Denver Archdiocese. This group of protesting Roman Catholics center their faith in the Gospel words of St. Paul [sic], that in Jesus Christ we are justified by grace through faith alone. I told Father P that they sounded pretty Lutheran. He told me that this group of 30 or so lay people and three dissenting priests did not wish to either join or start another denomination. They only want to be free to preach the unconditional good news of Jesus Christ and administer the sacraments in accordance with that Gospel. They wish to be a dissenting movement within the Roman Catholic Church. (Sounds radically Lutheran to me.) Father P then asked if they could use [name of church omitted] as a place to hold their liturgies, as a place to gather around the gospel and to receive the Lord’s Supper. The congregation council of [name of church omitted] at their last meeting reached full consensus that we welcome this Roman Catholic community.

This ELCA congregation is surely among the most politically left-wing groups that claims to be Christian that currently exists. They have an openly practicing homosexual pastor. Their website proclaims:

We rejoice in the manner in which diversity has enriched, nurtured and challenged the life and ministry we share in Christ, and regret actions and attitudes throughout the Church that may have inhibited or prevented access to Word and Sacrament because of age, race, socio-economic or marital status, physical or mental capacities, or sexual orientation.

The Lutheran congregation’s website makes it quite clear that Fr. P’s splinter group has an ongoing relationship with the Lutheran congregation – the splinter group meets there weekly and has installed a tabernacle(!). Fr. P will even be preaching at the “Reformation Day” services later this month (and the gay erstwhile Lutheran will return the favor) – perhaps that’s fitting for a priest who wishes to start a dissenting movement in the Church. I called the chancery today to ask if Fr. P had faculties. The answer was a rather quick and forceful no. I guess I’m not the first to ask that.

The mention of two other dissenting priests is highly disturbing. I don’t know who they are, assuming they exist. I will find out, though.

There was one old Lutheran hymn I was going to post for All Saints Day, but Bill Cork beat me to it in the context of a funeral. It has a great tune by Grieg. (Wasn't sung much at my boyhood church as it was suspiciously new. Seriously.)

A few overdue updates to the blogroll.

This could be one of the most significant infringements on freedom of religion in the history of the United States. Seriously.

Gray Davis, who still retains the office of Governor of California, has signed a bill requiring all “businesses” (not sure how that’s defined in the statute) that have contracts with the state with a value of more than $100,000 to offer “domestic partner:” benefits. The article does not mention an exclusion for Catholic hospitals, which generally provide rather large amounts of business under state contracts with Medicaid (known as “MediCal” in California). It would seem likely that such an exemption would have captured the attention of the reporter sine other exceptions are listed.

If this law is implemented without a “conscience clause”, then Catholic hospitals in California will face the choice of either (a) discontinuing most business with the state – which includes a great deal of the care for the poor that is at the heart of a Catholic hospital’s mission; (b) abandoning Christianity to treat homosexual liaisons as functionally equivalent to marriate; or (c) ceasing operations entirely.

Consequently, it is very important that Davis’ latest depredation be either rescinded or, at the barest minimum, sharply curtailed.

Wow. It’s been quite an interesting few days.

Friday I left work early. Our parish recently had a major building project and Friday afternoon there was a special reception for the biggest donors. Clarification: I’m not a big donor -- I was just one of the parishioners that worked the party. Something rather disturbing happened there, but I’m still trying to find out more details about it before I blog about it.

Saturday morning was perfect for a walk in the park. The best and worst of this time of the year combined. ‘Twas nice that, after the sun had been in a cloudless sky for about three hours, it wasn’t any too hot. Of course the downside to that is that there are so few minutes of daylight between the late sunrise and the horribly early sunset. Saw quite the variety of trees in the park – some still green, some part green and part changed, some all changed, some in varying degrees of bareness and a few evergreens. Seemed like a good, if obvious, analogy for the Church.

Happened by the house I grew up in, which I sold on Dad’s behalf in 2001. The new owners have already put it up for sale! They’re a retired couple from a small town in the Midwest who had planned to have their daughter and granddaughter move in with them. The daughter thought better of living there with her parents and the parents can’t afford to live there without some other source of income. They were having a garage sale with rather delusional prices. I saw an electric drill for $10 and asked where the bits were. There weren’t any. There was a used wheelchair for which they were asking $250! If they price the house like they priced the stuff in the garage sale, it could be a long time before they sell it. Was sad to see how much junk they had in the house after I had spent so many months getting junk out of the house. I guess that house makes its residents become packrats!

Sunday I got to go to the high Mass at Holy Ghost. Put me in mind of Brahms’ “How Lovely Is Thy Dwelling Place”. I miss going to high Mass. It seems more worshipful than other Masses. This particular Mass is a mostly Latin Novus Ordo with many of the principle parts (Gloria, Kyrie, Sanctus, Agnus Dei) sung by the choir, the Creed said in English by everyone and the Lord’s Prayer sung in Latin by all. I didn’t recognize the setting used and forgot to check the signboard in the narthex. If I had to guess, I’d say it was from the 1870s, most probably from France.

In the afternoon we went to the Bronco game. Was way too hot in the sun, but was still good to be there. (Am hoarse today as a result.) Spent the evening at my friend’s house looking at old pictures in preparation for this morning.

Took off in the middle of the day today for the funeral. The (Lutheran) pastor ignored the deceased’s request to have the text of the sermon be “Faith without works is dead . . . “. That shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone who knows much about Lutheran history and theology. I was actually a bit shocked at the request. It seems just a bit self-congratulatory, eh? They did print the passage on the program, though in a particularly opaque and clumsy translation. The funeral was about what I would have expected. There weren’t that many people there, but at age 97 the deceased had survived most of her acquaintances and many of the children of her contemporaries. Amazingly she started teaching school in the 1920s and kept at it, if only as a part-time preschool teacher, well into the 1990s.

My friend, the grandson of the deceased, has two sons himself – the older just turned 8 and the younger is about to turn 5. After the service I complimented the older boy on his good behavior during the service. The younger boy (who didn’t seem to be listening to me at the time) immediately protested, “Hey, I was a good boy too!” May God grant me the grace that I can honestly say the same thing some day.

Ask not for whom the bell tolls

Yesterday, a few minutes after I posted the funeral hymn below, my brother's grandmother passed away. My worst expectations of the reactions of certain family members turned out to be accurate.

Lord, increase our faith!

An old Lutheran funeral hymn as I think of what my brother’s going through:

1. Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

2. Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

3. Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
From His own fulness all He takes away.

4. Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Hymn #651
The Lutheran Hymnal © 1941
Author: Catharine Amalia Dorothea von Schlegel, 1752,
Translated by: Jane Borthwick, 1855

It’s usually sung to Sibelius’ haunting melody Finlandia. Probably the biggest tear-jerker in the whole Pietist repertoire.

I have a dear friend who’s really been like a brother to me since 1974. It’s a difficult autumn for him. Today they had to put their dog to sleep (the dog had been his wife’s even before they met and they’ve been married for over nine years). Worse yet, his grandmother is expected to die by Sunday and his mother is not doing well either. Add to that all the imagery of death that surrounds one in October and it’s not surprising that he’s rather down. Any prayers you can give for B would be appreciated.

Combining the poetry idea and tying in to comments made at Chez Shea, here’s an example of a good hymn:

1. Speak, O Lord, Thy servant heareth,
To Thy Word I now give heed;
Life and spirit Thy Word beareth,
All Thy Word is true indeed.
Death's dread power in me is rife;
Jesus, may Thy Word of Life
Fill my soul with love's strong fervor
That I cling to Thee forever.

2. Oh, what blessing to be near Thee
And to hearken to Thy voice!
May I ever love and fear Thee
That Thy Word may be my choice!
Oft were hardened sinners, Lord,
Struck with terror by Thy Word;
But to him who for sin grieveth
Comfort sweet and hope it giveth.

3. Lord, Thy words are waters living
Where I quench my thirsty need;
Lord, Thy words are bread life-giving,
On Thy words my Soul doth feed.
Lord, Thy words shall be my light
Through death's vale and dreary night;
Yea, they are my sword prevailing
And my cup of joy unfailing.

4. Precious Jesus, I beseech Thee,
May Thy words take root in me;
May this gift from heaven enrich me
So that I bear fruit for Thee!
Take them never from my heart
Till I see Thee as Thou art,
When in heavenly bliss and glory
I shall greet Thee and adore Thee.

Hymn #296
The Lutheran Hymnal © 1941
Author: Anna Sophia of Hesse, 1658
Translated by: George A.T. Rygh, 1909

Granted, some rhymes aren’t terrific and the last three lines could be considered presumptuous, but the main thrust of this hymn is unambiguous and earnest.

The tune usually used here Werde Munter by Johan Schop is a nice bit of 17th century melody, so long as it isn't taken too slowly.

Huzzah!

Steven Riddle has posted some nice poems, including one by Poe. So I thought I'd post my favorite Poe:

The Bells

Hear the sledges with the bells--
Silver bells--
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells,--
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

Hear the mellow wedding-bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight
From the molten-golden notes!
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gust of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells--
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells--
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

Hear the loud alarum bells--
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire
Leaping higher, higher, higher
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now--now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear, it fully knows,
By the twanging
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking of the swelling in the anger of the bells--
Of the bells--
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells,--
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

Hear the tolling of the bells--
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In a silence of the night
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats,
Is a groan:
And the people--ah, the people--
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone--
They are neither man nor woman--
They are neither brute nor human--
They are Ghouls!
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls,
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells--
Of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells--
Of the bells, bells, bells,
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells,--
Of the bells, bells, bells--
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells,--
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.


Better than the poetry, though, is news of the blogger who's been absent too long: Dylan! (See comments.)

Irony

There's an old Methodist church near the office. Actually, throughout older parts of Denver, you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a few Methodist churches. Back in the old west, the Methodists were usually the fastest and busiest at bringing in religion and trying to banish all manner of vice -- particularly prostitution and gambling.

Back to the present. The old Methodist church near the office has scaffolds up these days. Today I walked by and noticed that the current work is being funded by the "State Historical Fund" which is itself funded by taxes on casinos.

From the department of weird e-mail names

Got a get-rich-quick spam from the name "Anton-Phuoc W. Herod". How's that for multicultural wackiness?

Glad that’s over!

Sunday I happened to see a friend who now works as a car salesman. He told me about a rather interesting car on his lot. Yesterday after work I went to see it. Unfortunately I didn’t fit in it or a couple others he suggested. Finally we found a car that did fit me physically and I actually liked features of the car pretty well (VW turbo beetle). I wasn’t willing to pay what the dealer was asking, though, so the display of car salesmanship tricks on the part of my friend’s boss (the sales manager) began. My friend’s boss is probably the pushiest salesman I’ve ever encountered. He refused to listen to anything I had to say, like that I’d pay cash rather than finance a car, that I didn’t feel especially compelled to get a car that very day, that his initial offer on my trade-in was an insult. His thick Boston accent didn’t help communication any either. Not a good start to the evening.

Then came that horrible baseball game, of which the less said the better.

This morning I had to spend way too much time with my nemesis. He spends most of his time several hundred miles away and that’s still several hundred miles too close. I actually start to feel ill when I’m around him for more than about ten minutes.

Things have got to get better.

It’s interesting to note the canonization of the founder of the Divine Word Missionaries. Way back in (Lutheran) high school, someone signed me up for their mailing list. An anthropology textbook in my Lutheran college -- one of the few undergraduate textbooks I’ve kept -- was written by an SVD father.

Lots of posts lately about confession on various blogs. That’s a good thing. (It’s even rather timely given that today is Yom Kippur.) Confession gets too little attention. I suggest that the other big problem with confession is the practice of face-to-face confession. I’ve actually stood in line for confession on multiple occasions and chickened out before getting to the box. The intimidation factor would be even greater if I knew I had to actually see the priest and be seen by him.

My first confession was face-to-face and I didn’t even get around to mentioning several rather major things before the priest cut me off with lots of psychobabble. It was a parish reconciliation service during Lent and the whole RCIA group was trundled up. I’ve never seen that particular priest again anywhere. Since then I’ve found more traditional confessors. I’m far too sinful to wait even a whole month to confess. I’m glad, though, for those that are holy enough to practice less frequent confession. I hope to join their company some time, even if it isn’t very soon.

Well, that was a perfectly dreadful sports weekend. Nearly everything that could have gone wrong did. About the only good thing was that the Raiders lost.

By evening I wasn’t up for seeing either the Cubs or the Browns run away with their respective games and add insult to injury. I ended up watching the high-dollar episode of Trading Spaces. It will be repeated (probably very often). If you didn’t see it the first time, you might enjoy a re-broadcast.

Most of the commercials on the show were for other shows where people redecorate, work out or get makeovers. Between those shows and “hook up” dating shows, a large percentage of the airwaves are filled with people endeavoring to change the incidentals of their lives.

Too rarely, though, do people look at the changes that actually would make their lives better.

Huzzah!

Just found out that we're joining some friends tonight for dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant. An anticipated feast of the patron saint of Colorado, methinks.

Bumped across a quote attributed to il poverello that speaks to our day: "Sanctify yourself and you will sanctify society." Ouch.

Interesting side note: the restaurant is located just a short distance from both the parish where St. Frances Cabrini concentrated most of her work in Denver.

Bill Cork posts some tidbits on the Luther movie. One mention (from The Lutheran Witness) is particularly noteworthy:

Doubtless there are also other reasons to revisit the Father of the Reformation—the magnificent realism of his two-kingdoms theology, for example which would bring some sanity to postmodern times.

The “two-kingdoms theology” that the reviewer praises is the teaching that God interacts through the world both through the kingdom of grace – the (invisible) church – and through the kingdom of power – the state. This dovetails with another Lutheran theme – the right division of Law and Gospel. Thus the kingdoms of grace has precious little law (so there’s cheap grace) and the kingdom of power has precious little mercy.

This theology is (1) a foreshadowing of the infamous JFK position that a Catholic’s faith should not inform his performance of governmental duties and (2) a hard habit to break for this former Lutheran.