A hopefully reasonable, literate and charitable place for Catholic musicians and others involved in the Church's liturgical practices to exchange and share personal perspectives of liturgical philosophy, law, and performance. And the occasional left turn might pop up in the headlights.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
What next?
Here in PST Pentecost retires in just under two hours. I folded in "our souls' welcome Guest" into the General Intercessions that were offered today at our parishes. But for quite a while, as those who visit here or commiserate with me know, there seems to bear upon us an unwelcomed guest, something we cannot fathom but is visible and palpable to us daily. I'm reminded of the recent remake of "The Day the Earth Stood Still" when the mother of the spherical arks just sat in the middle of Central Park inert, but keeping the whole of human civilization trembling with "This is bad, it's the end, but when?"
Is this the same sort of suppressed hysteria and panic the ten apostles endured as one by one, from Peter on through, they fled to refuge rather than to stay with the Master. Probably. The night before, they were supremely mortal that they chose to sleep rather than to engage Him about what exactly happened at supper.
Well, on this day when Medes and Elemites could order lattes simultaneously and the Cappadocian barrista heard them (as well as understood them) speaking identically, we commemorate the promise that we would not be left orphaned.
But, as a long-lived orphan (tho' not like Annie) I can say things have been getting quite unreal for a considerably long time.
And I don't mean that the Lakers are playing the Magic instead of Boston or Cleveland. I'm talking Hieronymous Bosch weird, Salvador Dali weird, childhood nightmare weird.
This day inwhich we invoke the Spirit to come and sanctify us, to fill and energize our hearts with His Love- we are then instantly beamed back into Bizzaro Superman: Dr. Tiller is murdered and, to some, martyred while serving as what progressive RC's now call "A Minister of Hospitality" by some new Lee Harvey Oswald, who patiently waited his turn in line behind the Sara Jane Moores, Mark Chapmans, and the multitudes of the righteously scorned, waiting their number to be called for "Avenge Time." What next, indeed? Scattering, muttering and murmuring "Please, God, don't let the guy be Catholic.....Well, Homeland Security's on this like stink on manure....ProLife=Homegrown Terrorists...."
Oh, and by the way, OctoMom's getting her own reality TV program inwhich she's promised will eclipse Jon and Kate Plus Eight in all ways.
Oh, there's more coming. There's always more to come.
"Let all mortal flesh keep silence." Now, just for an hour even.
We need to be on our knees, yesterday. 'Cause, like was said in "No Country for Old Men," can't stop what's coming. Fear and trembling, perhaps?
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3 comments:
Amen.
Well, probably "amen," I have to take the movie references on faith, (me no do, Keanu.)
Himself has always had an apocalyptic streak, but I always chalked it up to his pessimism.
Maybe I'm the one who's unrealistic?
(Save the Liturgy, Save the World)
p.s. Hey!
I can post here!
And thanks for exposing my shame
http://musicgiftofgod.blogspot.com/2009/05/scelata-lord-jesus-christ-have-mercy-on.html
;o)Seriously, that was one of my we'regoingtohellinahandbasketandIseemtohavedonethebasketweaving days.
(Save the Liturgy, Save the World)
You're welcome! I'm right there with you, but I promise I won't be singing AC/DC on the way down!
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