It's Ponderous

In the Wizard of Oz, in the encounter with the wicked witch, can someone explain to me why the good witch of the North not only holds Dorothy (keeping her from running away, presumably for plot purposes) but also has a smile on her face?

This is one of those occasions when the past feels a "foreign country" since no film made today would allow an expression other than horror on the good witch's face.

It stands in the face (no pun intended) of today's culture of "authenticity" which requires facial emotions match the gravity of the situation, while in the past there was the sense that you should fight against that tide and that you should smile in adversity. For the good witch to stop smiling in that situation, or any, would presumably be a poor influence on Dorothy (although she obviously can't see the good witch in this scene). It reminds me of how the actress who played the mother on "Little House on the Prairie" said that the role was exhausting because she always had to smile and be sunny. And yet part of leadership is sort of self-control of emotions, of providing an example for the people. If George Bush came on television looked panicky about the financial markets that would not be a good thing, even though panic is likely the appropriate emotion.

GWB! GWB!

The Daily Show recently had a montage showing George W. Bush at the economic summit looking not quite a member of the group. Given his lack of popularity in Europe and his lame duck status, that's not surprising, but I felt an unaccountable warmth towards him. I thought about how meaningless the perception of the world community really is, and I remembered how it is to be an outsider.

Sure I disliked most of his policy decisions (except for the tax cuts and the judges). But there was always a good-heartedness about him and a remarkable lack of bitterness towards his legion of enemies. Most especially his decision to give massive aid to Africa was telling.

So it was good to see this nice tribute to GWB on the American Catholic blog. I often think of GWB when I'm reading his favorite Psalm (Ps 27):

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

The Parable of the Talents

The Pope's homily:

...the parable talks about gifts that “the master” gives to his servants. “For this reason,” he continues, “these gifts, in addition to their natural qualities, represent the riches that the Lord Jesus has left us as an inheritance, so that we might make them bear fruit: his Word, deposited in the holy Gospels; Baptism, which renews us in the Holy Spirit; the prayer - the ‘Our Father’ - that lifts us up to God as sons united in the Son; his forgiveness, which he has commanded be brought to all; the sacrament of his immolated Body and his Blood poured out. In a word: the Kingdom of God, which is He himself, present and living in our midst.”

“Today’s parable,” he continued, “insists upon the interior attitude with which this gift is to be received and valued. The wrong attitude is that of fear: the servant who is afraid of his master and his return hides the coin in the ground, and it bears no fruit. This happens, for example, to those who having received Baptism, Communion, and Confirmation hide these gifts beneath a blanket of prejudices, beneath a false image of God that paralyzes faith and works, betraying the expectations of the Lord. But the parable puts greater emphasis on the good fruits borne by the disciples who, happy over the gift they have received, have not kept this hidden out of fear and jealousy, but have made it bear fruit by sharing it, imparting it.”

I'm Getting Vaklempt..

I got my first Chinese spam. I thought only the Russians loved me.

Help a Brother Blogger with a Mouse Click

Via Holy Whapping:

Shrine friend Thomas Peters, the American Papist, whose newsy, well-researched blog has more professionalism in its pinky finger than I'll ever have in a week of Sundays, needs your help! (Mixed metaphor much?) He is in line for a scholarship, and needs your help. Here's how:

I'm in serious running to receive a $10,000 scholarship for blogging as a student. Voting for me here ("Thomas Peters") only takes a few seconds, and I would deeply appreciate you spreading the word amongst your friends, facebook, readers, email lists, etc.
If this cause goes viral among the Catholic online community, I could have real shot at winning, which would mean more time blogging as opposed to, well, trying to pay the electric bill. Reading in the dark is no fun. Think of it as a little good deed for today. Thank you!

Currently, he's number two in the running, which is pretty impressive. But you can make it even more impressive with a click of the mouse. What are you waiting for? Go vote! You don't even have to stand in line for an hour, with a headcold, surrounded by Upper East Side yuppies like last time!

When you look at the crucifix, you understand how much Jesus loved you then. When you look at the sacred Host, you understand how much Jesus loves you now. - Mother Teresa, via Exultet

The scriptures give a clear and consistent condemnation of same-sex sexual activity. However, the research of the natural and social sciences and the lived experience of ordinary Catholics should all play a part in how we approach the issue of homosexuality — particularly in subjective culpability and how the truth is to be preached. I find that a rigid and coldly objective application of the Church’s teaching can be most discouraging. The least effective way is to be stridently objective, not taking into account the spiritual journey of the person you are advising. When we focus on the homosexual orientation, we’re ignoring the whole of the person. Each human person is a story in his or her self. A person that is thrown into the mystery of life, trying to uncover its meaning, living in a world with all its unanswered questions of history, of competing philosophies and religions with even more stark differences in how they view the human person, as well as with different life experiences that influence how we respond to the question of what it means to be human. Sexual orientation does not encompass the entirety of humanity, but it does play a vital role and this needs to be taken into account, not just in the Church but in American life, particularly in our public policies. In dealing with the complex issues surrounding homosexuality, it is very easy to give simple and at times caustic answers. It is more difficult and more rewarding to travel the road less traveled and to listen with an open heart and apply objective moral norms sensitively to basic human needs, concerns, and aspirations. Conversion is normally not something that happens in an instant or overnight, it is an ongoing process; we grow only gradually. - Eric Brown on "American Catholic"

I am sorry if you think I claim unusual prescience but the number of people surprised by President-elect Obama's winning has startled me. I think it was 1947 that Jackie Robinson started playing Major League Baseball. Didn't everybody born in 1940 or before guess that we would have at least a partly Black president one day? Well, maybe you had to be a child to know that. I mean, in our minds, if you could play second base for the Brooklyn Dodgers, why could you not be the president? - Blogger at "Muellerstuff"

Andrew Sullivan, forensic gynecologist - title of Terrence Berres' post concerning Sullivan's Palin obsession

Heard about the most clever [Halloween] costume ever: a friend's nephew dressed in a t-shirt that said POLLSTER, and then carried an Obama bag and a McCain bag, and people could choose which one they put candy in. He evidently got a really impressive haul of candy from people who expressed their emotions about this election by dumping handfuls of goodies into their candidate's bag. - Jennifer at "Conversion Diary"

So this is how liberty dies. With thunderous applause. - George Lucas

After spending an hour window shopping (well, browser window) bridesmaids dresses, MrsDarwin has resolved to get in shape for her sister's wedding. She is now off do so some aerobic cookie making. Floating in from the kitchen, "Oatmeal chocolate chip. Oatmeal is healthier." - Mrs Darwin

The prescription of joy is to be understood as a command to think on and rest in the goodness of God, which is something we can choose to do. Joy is counted as a fruit of the Holy Spirit, not as a gift. I take that to mean it will come along in due season, and is a sign that we're cultivating ourselves properly, as opposed to it being something we can only experience if it is superadded to our lives. - Tom of Disputations

Flannery O'Connor's Prayer Book

I came across this line in Brad Gooch's biography of Flannery O'Connor:

Immediately on waking, she read the prayers for Prime, prescribed for six in the morning, from her 1949 edition of A Short Breviary.

Out of curiosity I wondered if the prayer book was available on the 'net. It doesn't appear to be, and other editions are expensive. (I distrust anything put out after 1965 so I put that as the ending date in the Abebooks.com search.)

A Short Breviary was produced by the Benedictine monks, published by their Abbey press in Collegeville, Minnesota for "monks and the laity". Amy Welborn, in her wonderful book "The Words We Pray", mentions she owns a 1944 copy. Amy quotes Flannery's letter to a friend:

Anyway, don't think I am suggesting you read the Office everyday. It's just a good thing to know about, I say Prime in the morning and sometimes I say Compline at night but usually I don't. But anyway I like parts of my prayers to stay the same and part to change. So many prayer books are awful, but if stick with the liturgy, you are safe.

Defending Thomas Merton

Interesting post on Thomas Merton's interest in Eastern religions.

Selections...

From Joseph O'Neill's novel "Netherland":

I traveled in a rented car up the Saw Mill and Taconic parkways. My preparatory examination of the road map had turned up such place-names as Yonkers, Cortlandt, Verplanck, and, of course, Peekskill; and set against these Dutch places, in my mind, were the likes of Mohegan, Chappaqua, Ossining, Mohansic, for as I drove north through thickly wooded hills I superimposed on the landscape regressive images of Netherlanders and Indians, images arising not from mature historical reflection but from a child’s irresponsibly cinematic sense of things, leading me to picture a bonneted girl in an ankle-length dress waiting in a log cabin for Sinterklaas, and redskins pushing through ferns, and little graveyards filled with Dutch names, and wolves and deer and bears in the forest, and skaters on a natural rink, and slaves singing in Dutch.

Another (WARNING - SPOILER ALERT):

I conceived of myself no longer as the idiomatic man who stands between the rock and the hard place but as the more happily placed idiomatic man who can take it or leave it: “it,” here, being my marriage...

(later)

It was not the case that I’d heroically bowled her over (my hope) or that she’d tragically decided to settle for a reliable man (my fear). She had stayed married to me, she stated in the presence of Juliet Schwarz, because she felt a responsibility to see me through life, and the responsibility felt like a happy one. Juliet turned her head. “Hans?” I couldn’t speak. My wife’s words had overwhelmed me. She had put into words—indeed into reality—exactly how I felt. “Yes,” I said. “Same here.” Though not exactly the same, I thought, stepping down from my stepladder and squinting at my handiwork. Rachel saw our reunion as a continuation. I felt differently: that she and I had gone our separate ways and subsequently had fallen for third parties to whom, fortuitously, we were already married.

And...:

I said, “There’s a difference between grandiosity and thinking big.” I might as well have punched him on the nose, because for the only time in our acquaintance he looked at me with hurt surprise. He began to say something and decided against it. I could see what had happened. I had knocked him off his pedestal. I had called into question his exercise of the New Yorker’s ultimate privilege: of holding yourself out in a way that, back home, would be taken as a misrepresentation....

"We’re the romantic sex, you know,” he said, fighting a burp. “Men. We’re interested in passion, glory. Women,” Chuck declared with a finger in the air, “are responsible for the survival of the world; men are responsible for its glories.”

One more...

The blackout gave rise to an outbreak of civic responsibility. From the Bronx to Staten Island, citizens appointed themselves traffic cops, gave rides to strangers, housed and fed the stranded. It also transpired that the upheaval provoked a huge number of romantic encounters, a collective surge of passion not seen, I read somewhere, since the “we’re-all-going-to-die sex” in which, apparently, everybody had indulged in the second half of September two years previously—an analysis I found a little hard to accept, since it was my understanding that all sex, indeed all human activity, fell into this category.

...

He nattered about his salmon-fishing vacations in Ireland, which by coincidence had been precisely the pastime of my Dutch former dentist and led me to wonder if there was a connection between angling and tinkering with teeth. Certainly he seemed as happy as a fisher, this New York practitioner, and why not? One of the great consolations of work must be its abbreviation of the world’s area, and it follows that it must be especially consoling to have one’s field of vision reduced to the space of a mouth.

Quotable

From "Orestes Brownson" by R. A. Herrera:

Orestes Brownson is the Catholic thinker par excellence of the United States. There are no rivals. The decks have been cleared. No Catholic thinker has equaled him in national prominence, international presence, density of thought, variety of concerns, or sheer volume...

In many ways, Brownson was ahead of his time and prepared the way for the vicissitudes and conflicts of the twentieth (and perhaps the twenty-first) century...He was agonizingly aware of the depredations that a Catholicism become worldly and humanitarian would cause. He repeatedly marked the danger rampaging democracy presented to both the American republic and the Catholic Church. Though it is possible to choose either the liberal or the conservative Brownson as guide, a question remains: Was Brownson a prophet, a man who transcended his epoch, or simply an atavistic or Utopian malcontent?

Full disclosure: I especially like him because he really liked his ale. He was of the Hilaire Belloc mold when it comes to ascetism.

The Evolution of Schwarzneggar

It's been interesting to watch the career of Arnold. Once the Great Republican Hope, (though never the social conservative's hope), is it just me or has he been humbled by governance, which is to say he's recognized that he can either stick to his conservative principles or keep his job? Or is that to frame it the wrong way - has he grown in office by which is meant he sees reality and lives with reality?

So he's kept his job. He's learned that the customer (the voter) is always right. In customer service it isn't true, but it's the lie they tell themselves in order to give good customer service.

A couple of striking things in yesterday's interview with George Stephanapolis that are perhaps even contradictory. One is that he does not believe Republicans should attempt to placate Latino or African-American voters. No shake-down, no payment of protection money (figuratively of course, although with Jesse it was literal). He says, rightly, we are all Americans and if we concentrate on making the country better everyone, including Latinos and African-Americans, will benefit.

But he also says that he represents California and that his job is to do whatever is best for California. This seems a defense attorney form of government in which the goal is not to get to the truth - that which is best for everyone, i.e. America - but to represent your client even if it turns out to be at the expense of society at large. And so Arnold brings up the stat that California only gets 80 cents on the dollar it contributes to the federal purse. First off, if everyone got a dollar for a dollar then who is going to pay the overhead? Because, you know, even the most efficient charities have overhead. So I'm thinking if every state got 80 cents on the dollar that's pretty darn good.

Now I'm not saying CA shouldn't get more aid. But Arnold's focus on the amount CA gets back from the Feds doesn't cut it.

My impression is that our large budget deficits are mostly caused by national programs, i.e. the military, Social Security, and Medicare. But this defense attorney form of government is at least partially the mindset that gives us budget deficits since every state wants at least, if not more, than what it put in. (Speaking of states, West Virginia benefited from tremendous federal largess via the auspices of Sen. Byrd. Has it really benefited that much though? Aren't the poverty and unemployment rates about the same now that they were back pre-Byrd?)

Anyway, as Christopher Buckley says in his novel "Supreme Courtship":

Members understand that their main job, their highest calling, their truest democratic function, is to take money from other states and funnel it to their own. What greater homage to the Founding Fathers and the men who froze at Valley Forge could there be than a civic center in Tulsa paid for by the taxpayers of Massachusetts?

Saved by Humor?

From Reid Buckley's "An American Family":

Like most Roman Catholics, I was born knowing the eschatology of tragedy and its ontological significance, which is redemption. This keeps one from taking oneself too seriously. This is the necessary perspective of a sense of humor, upon which salvation may depend. Only at the expense of his faith may a Christian wallow in grief.

This is the hard thing: to know simultaneously that one is infinitely precious to the Lord God and infinitely important in His economy of salvation (oh, what comfort there is in this mystery!), yet to know also that one is nothing-- nothing at all, not a speck more than a bubble in the frothing stream of existence..

Ruminations...

All these years later I have to laugh at the incongruity of our 7th grade science teacher playing Donovan’s Jennifer, Juniper in class. At the time it seemed perfectly appropriate. Now I strain to see the connection between folk music and science. But then I’m far less creative now alas.

It's interesting how my perceptions of the past are colored by unrealities. I thought Mr. V's music was, for all intents and purposes, aborigine music. So ancient that it could be seen as a science project. Yet my own historical study proves this was not the case. I have found out that Donovan sang this hit song in 1968, a mere seven years before I heard it in class. This would be like me playing a 2001 song to my class, had I a class. Mr. V was not even indulging in nostalgia as it was almost new to him!

* * *
Had I known, as John Updike attests, that all our writing comes from our first twenty years I might’ve tried to live more during them. I wasn’t conscious then of drawing upon it as a source, though things done for an ulterior motive are likely disqualifying anyway.

What I’ve found is that there is much to draw in those first twenty in terms of self-knowledge even though we typically react in the years afterwards as if to disprove the narrative formed in the initial years. In high school, Nixon was the person least likely to become president. And so JFK; his brother was supposed to be president - he was like the third in line of the royal family so he could relax.

The bullfighters in Spain find much more self-knowledge in the manly art of courting death. But JPII tells us in his encyclicals that God tells us the most about ourselves so when we read the bible we learn the most about ourselves!

* * *
I wasn’t old enough to remember Johnny Cash in his prime nor was I with Pope John Paul II. Both became familiar only in their extreme agedness, both betrayed by a body that had served them well in their youth and late middle age. When at their best both had a charisma that touches only the very few, although it's likely that they, like Christ, taught us more when they were with cross. When I was a kid the only words of Christ that really moved me were the ones that were said on the Cross.

I saw the movie “Walk the Line” about June and Johnny Cash but watching videos on YouTube gave off an entirely different feel. I wonder if it is even possible to ever really portray a person given our uniqueness. But I also wonder if "Walk the Line" was truthful without being accurate in the externals. How much importance should we put on historicity given that June Carter Cash was a moving target visually while Reese Witherspoon was not? And yet to say that only the words and story matter is to ignore the undeniable part that body language plays. I can write words on a page and say them in person and there is much more meaning when the words are married to body language and inflection than when stripped to mere skeletal words: "The letter killeth..."

Entertainers, more than most, have to stay current with the culture in order to stay popular. They donate themselves like canaries in the coal mine and we see the effects of cultural movements in them before we see them in us. Every age has its drugs, be it cocaine or alcohol or caffeine or materialism or pride or whatever. Entertainers, if successful, are on the front lines of the age's drug of choice.

In “Walk the Line” there was little sense of the chameleon-like quality of June, how in ’67 she was demure, with a touch of Emily Dickinson, and how by ’69 she'd become electric with an underground sexuality. By ’70 there was stasis, a comfortable confidence, with her hair grown long as if doubling for Cher. Hers was a physical transformation almost as dramatic as that of the Beatles. In some ways her story is more interesting than Johnny's, whose familiar fall and rise was penile in its simplicity. Up, down, like a pump. Hers was a more complex, ovarian journey simply because she was not under the direct control of hard drugs. He was all need while she had freedom, making her wrestlings with conscience interesting since the capacity for freedom makes us interesting.

Johnny & June seemed like different people in ’67 such that it was apparent something had happened not to just to them personally but within the culture. In the ’67 June there was a stiffness and awkward pauses (that appear so only in retrospect; they were neither stiff nor awkward in their time). And the ’69 video could’ve been made today. Whatever happened in speech and body language between ’67 and ’69 is still with us. That desire for a border and thus to be able to identify a cause, is still with me although I recognize the '50s and early '60s were not the golden, saintly time I'd thought they were.

Judging by appearances, let alone by tiny snippets of YouTube, is folly. But what is interesting is how we can hear CBS newsman Edward Murrow today and think how different and odd he sounds. While we can hear a newscaster from the '70s and feel it not too out of sort. Is that mere accident? Are the differences in cadence and mien indicative of less superficial differences?

A Stroke of Insight

A "Rad Trad Catholic Girardian" (a consolingly eclectic handle) talks about his stroke in light of the story of a brain scientist's story.

Michael Gerson in the WAPO describes more. And more at this blog. It reminds me of the Ron Hansen novel in which a religious sister's mystical experiences might have had a basis in the organic brain chemistry but resulted in no loss of faith.

This Just In..

Posted "Brimstone & John Steinbeck" o'er at Broken Alabaster.