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June 25, 2006
Sacramento
Two weeks from today I will be flying out to Sacramento for a business trip before a portion of the California governmental bureaucracy. I'm not thrilled with the prospect. But as with all of my business trips, I have tried to plan to arrive the day before the action in enough time to allow me to acquire a small taste of the town as it were. So, I'll arrive on Sunday afternoon, about 2:00 I think and I'll have from the time I check-in until the time I retire to tour, meet-and-greet, get dinner, etc.
Are there are suggestions from those of you closer to the place as to what one might want to try to take in of Sacramento on a Sunday afternoon? There is a possibility that some time may be free on the other days of the trip as well, so don't exclude things that might be seen during the week. Also, if you life in the area and would like to meet, drop me a line and I we can see what can be planned.
If God is willing and in a merciful mood, this will be my only trip out there under such circumstances--as such, it is likely to be my only trip to the lovely capitol. So I'd be most pleased to hear any "must sees," "must dos," or "must eats." Thanks.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 4:35 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
June 26, 2006
The Necessity of Intercession
If you read what is written here you might get the mistaken, but quite understandable impression, that prayer life is a slightly blurry, ethereal passage from one wordless conversation with God to another; that the life of contemplation admits of no ordinary intercourse with God. Part of the reason you might receive that impression is that there is a constant struggle to achieve the right balance, to find a way to do as God wills, and to find the right sort of intimacy with God--neither too familiar or presumptuous nor too self-serving and distant.
Yesterday's gospel hammered home the necessity of intercessory prayer in a way that few gospel passages can. The tiny boat is being tossed and thrown by the waves. All around the apostles, lightning flashes, thunder sounds; with a mighty roaring that shakes the timbers of the houses of kings, the weather assaults them. And they are naked in a boat, completely exposed. Jesus exhausted, is asleep in the stern. And perhaps when this storm started the apostles had decided not to wake him. They had seen many such in their time of fishing, and this was just another, nothing that they couldn't handle themselves. But the tiny tempest grew and grew and engulfed them to the point that they feared they would capsize and all would drown.
They go to wake him, and say, "Don't you care that we're dying here? Wake up! Help!" No, indeed, the people who needed to wake up were the Apostles themselves. They first needed to wake up and realize the real danger of the storm. Only when they had done so could they go to the Lord, wake Him, and ask for help.
Jesus says after He calms the storm, "Why such fear? Have you no faith?" This quiet rebuke shows that whether asked or not, Jesus would have seen them safely home; however, the trip without His help would have been one of white-knuckled terror. Truly, they would have made it safely to shore, but the wear and tear on their persons through the emotional and physical battle they would have had to fight would have been terrible. When they turned to Jesus and asked for help, there came a calm that was both in the elements outside and in the minds, hearts, and souls of the Apostles. One almost wonders whether the words calming the storm "Quiet! Be Still!" were not also for the tumult and furor of the Apostles' spirits as they fought this terrible battle. The mild rebuke was simply Jesus saying that all should be calm and trusting even when it the elements themselves were neither calm nor trustworthy.
The message for the believer today is that it may well be possible to weather the storms of life on one's own; that it may be possible to safely make it to shore through come crisis or calamity. However, it is infinitely easier and certainly more assured with Jesus calming the storms of emotion and frenzy that feed failure.
One must perceive what one needs and ask for it. One must figuratively "wake Jesus" and alert Him to what is going on in order to receive the blessing of His presence. He is always with His people; however, it is often difficult to recognize Him, to see His action. To the person in prayer, it may seem as though He is sleeping, unaware, unconcerned for the plight and anxiety that fuel the prayer. Not so, He is infinitely concerned; nevertheless, He waits upon the prayer. Intercessory prayer requires the believer to look within, recognize what is needed, as ask for it. Certainly this extends to the needs of others as well. But too often people are reluctant to ask for what they need. There is the mistaken belief that God's children are not worthy of the things they would ask. How can that be? How can a child, adored by his or her Father, be unworthy of the gifts that the Father is ready to shower down?
Part of growing closer to God is to be able to see the present storm that tosses one and makes one uneasy and uncertain, and to respond to that storm by turning to Jesus and asking for what is needed. That is how a person grows in faith and knowledge. No one grows by hiding and covering up fear, but by facing the fear and asking for help; because the only thing more frightening than what causes the fear is the necessity of reliance upon another to make it go away. In that, one discovers that one is not the independent hero, the master of all he or she surveys. Rather, one is an utterly dependent child of God. To refuse this truth is to refuse to grow in Christ.
Jesus teaches that it is part of growing in faith and in humility to look deep into the mirror, see the flaws exposed there, and ask for help. Intercessory prayer is not only for others, but it is a way that each person speaks to and for self. The first intercessions necessarily go to the cause of greatest need that each one is aware of--the deep wound, the great hole within the self that can only be filled and healed by God. It is not pride to ask for what is needed, it is humility; and if one's name is at the head of the list, it is because one recognizes the deep and pervasive need for healing before trying to help others. Each one who does not pray for self winds up as one of the blind leading the blind. The only way to service is the way of humility--the way of recognizing how incapable one is and asking for help making it not so.
Life is stormy; the storms never stop. The only measure of calm is the presence of Christ whom is called to help to make the sailing lighter, more even. But even when He comes, the elements may not change, the events that caused one to summon Him may not resolve, the storm may still be present--but it becomes a storm of elements only, not a storm in the soul.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:38 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Phone
For a change, a Korean horror film, recommended by a friend and an interesting study in contrasts with some of the more recent Japanese horror films. The Koreans, as their history would suggest, are a more adaptable people than the Japanese tend to be. The film is disconcertingly western. The decor of the houses, the look of the streets, everything about it suggests a western influence and pervasiveness. Indeed, in the sheer comprehensibility of the threat embodied by the phone and in the labyrinthine details of the plot twists, this Korean film shows Korea as very, very western indeed.
Obviously, it is still Korea. And from the film one gets the impression of a Korea that, while very Western, is very socially conservative. While the decoration in the houses is very sleek, stylish, and modern, the feel of the people and the attitudes seems to hearken back to the 1950s in the U.S. In short, it is refreshing.
Phone has a seemingly hokey premise that plays very well. A journalist who has exposed an underground pedophilia ring among very influential businessmen must go into hiding. She is offered the unused residence of a very affluent friend. Going to this remote location, the journalist applies for a new cell-phone number and discovers that only one number is available. And here is the most intriguing part of the premise--the cell-phone number is haunted. The cell-phone rings and terrible noises come out. The computer goes matrix haywire and spells out only the last four digits of the telephone number. A young girl listens to whatever is at the other end of the line and becomes possessed. Suddenly everything is careening out of control toward a perfectly comprehensible ending.
And that is another place where the Korean movie differs from the Japanese. Much of what transpires makes perfect sense to a western mind. The vengeful ghost has its reason and its reason is clear and its vengeance, while intersecting the lives of some innocent people, is confined to one end.
One other refreshing aspect to the film is the relative strength of the Korean heroine. In most Japanese films the women are too passive to do anything other than scream and go insane or scream and die. Where the woman is strong, she is either a vengeful spirit (as in some of the Ringu movies) or a demented case (as in Audition). To see a strong and independent woman who is still respectful and observant of society's traditions and mores and capable of doing something other than screaming and collapsing is, once again as much in this film, refreshing.
The movie was well made, well-acted, and overall beautifully done. It is creepy, eerie, and disconcerting. It may not be as uncanny and utterly disorienting as similar Japanese films, but it is still all its own. It is neither western nor Japanese, just as it should not be because it is distinctively Korean.
For fans of horror films, highly recommended. For others, a good film, but not for children, nor really for younger teens.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:17 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Private Revelation. . .
is not the Faith. But it sure provides some interesting highlights.
A must read here
Remarkable Story
My father-in-law is in the hospital. Fortunately he is doing well and is out of immediate danger. The subject of prayer came up and the nurse overhead and told of a recent fiery car crash.
He was injured to the point of near death and was rescued and lifeflighted.
He reported to the nurse that he had felt himself leave his body for a time. He had floated above the cars behind him and in the first two he heard people complaining about having to wait. In the third car he heard the woman praying for him and so he remained with her.
He remembered the license plate number and told the nurse. Police cooperated in finding the owner of that third car because the doctor asked them to. She was asked to come to the hospital for a reason they couldn't share. The injured patient introduced himself and his family and thanked her for her prayers.
Wow!
They say people in the medical profession believe in God more many other professions (doctors are far more likely to be believers than scientists) and one can see why.
(From Video meliora, proboque;) Thanks TSO. Keeping this out of sight so I can refer back within the archive.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 11:19 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Diary of a City Priest
This is one of those "independent films" that early on I thought I was going to have to hate. Quotations from Thomas Merton--city priest in North Philly--mentions of the Berrigans--all ingredients for a possible disaster.
But I'm pleased to say, not so. Respectful and low key, not exalting, nor degrading, not romanticizing either positively or negatively, thoughtful and quiet and gentle. How realistic? How can I judge, I've never been there. But realistic or not it carries with it its own realism and it is an integral film, holding together and moving forward and ending as gently as it begins.
David Morse wrote and plays the key role in the drama and I have to say that I was very pleased with the way everything played out. No plot, not a lot of suspense, but a picture of a life, lonely and full of friends. Really quite beautiful.
Recommended.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:50 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 27, 2006
Salome
Richard Strauss's opera Salome, secondarily derived from Oscar Wilde's play, is an interesting study in contrasts. While not atonal, there are time during which the dissonance of the music is nearly unbearable. At other times, most particularly, famously, and spectactularly in the infamous "Dance of the Seven Veils" the music is lush, late romantic in tone and tenor.
Because of operas like Salome and Elektra Strauss was branded a modernist; however works like Der Rosenkavalier and the symphonic poem Ein Heldenleben (A Hero's Life) betray the late and lush romanticism of his work. Much like Schönberg's Verklarte Nacht but more subtle, more shaded, and more sensuous, Strauss found the heart of his work in the extension of the tradition handed down to him from the German Masters.
Why then Salome? Why this awful dissonance and this musical posturing? Why this subject matter? Well, to use another German term, it may have been part of the Zeitgeist. Aubrey Beardsley and his merry band of decadent Art Deco adherents had been busy redesigning the world of art, fashion, and architecture with a heightened sensuality and eroticism that could stumble over the border of pornography. Beardsley's famous representations of Salome are a case in point, highly stylized and most famously typified by the print of Salome about to kiss the Medusa-like severed head of John the Baptist.
This was the spirit of the time--an awakening, some might say, from the torpor and sleep of Victorian prudery and oppression. Others might describe it as a long slide into the slough of sin. The truth probably lay somewhere between the two. The excesses of Victorian prudery and oppression were well laid to rest, but they were only replaced by the excesses of the decadents for whom too much was never enough.
Enter stage right Salome. It is this dynamic tension, this awakening from slumber that is most carefully recounted in the tonality and dissonance of the work. The erotic and neurotic frenzy of the Salome who falls head-over-heels for John the Baptist to the point where she, deprived of the kisses of his lips that she describes as a "red band across a white tower," she contrives to find a way to finally embrace him and kiss him. Much Freudian can and has been made of all of this; but as Freud has largely been shown to be a product of his time and not particularly useful in understanding human psychology, what would be the point of it?
Strauss captures in the Opera some of the tension of the time. The transition between times is always full of tension and the pull of the sensual against the long-held repression of the Victorian time was enormous. The great gravity of Victorian propriety mostly held and thus, it was possible to be shocked by the performance of the opera in the earliest time. However, the music portrays the tension. The dissonance of the interior cry for liberation balanced against the need for control and repression of the desires. Thus, at the end of the opera, the final words and the last moments, while still belonging to Salome are initiated by Herod's order, "Kill her." And for a few moments of fading, final music there is a frenzy about Salome that recapitulates the action of the opera up until that point and brings it to a final quavering end. But, perhaps, a more reasonable understanding of the dissonance is the cognitive dissonance of the disruption caused in the name of art. Perhaps, one can see built into the treatment of the work, the doubts of Strauss himself both about the content of work and of the direction of society. But, that may be overreaching and without being able to read Strauss's own commentary on the work, if any, unsubstantiated.
This is an opera that is not easy to watch; but it is fascinating. One can almost track the argument within the music. The dance of the veils followed by a long scene in which Salome insists that Herod honor his oath and Herodias careens in wildly, shrieking harpy in the soprano's upper register. Contrast this with an earlier scene in which Salome attempts to seduce John the Baptist, called Iokanaan in the Opera, with songs that first reflect upon his body, "which is the whitest thing in the world" and his hair, "which is darker than the night without a moon in which the stars shine so bright." This aggressive female sexuality is the perceived threat. Herod, to use Browning's phrase, "gave commands/then all smiles stopped together." However, Salome is not an opera with a lot of smiles, even though there are somewhat comic scenes exploring the madness of Herod and the lunacy of his court.
Salome is an opera to be experienced with full knowledge of the context and with an understanding of all of the elements that make it what it is. A reading of Wilde's play of the same name might be informative, but a cursory understanding of the theory of the decadents, most particularly with a notion of the influence of Walter Pater (both Marius the Epicurean and Appreciations, which gave rise to the pervasive theory of beauty among the aesthetes.
The version I was able to view of this opera featured a lovely young woman who needed perhaps a little tempering around the edges of a rather hard voice. However, the opera has its difficulties in that it demands of a woman young enough to play Salome the richest of a voice tempered by long experience of performing operas. When one qualification or another is in doubt, it is often the voice that is given less consideration in order to make the sensuality of Salome come through. So it seems in this DVD; nevertheless, despite some momentary lapses (and there are few), the performance is electrifying and played with just the right neurotic, nay psychotic, energy. An interesting window into the art of a (thankfully) bygone era. We have enough battles of our own, thank you.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:40 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
A Compendiium of E-Book Sites
The Electric Eclectic - reading
Posted by Steven Riddle at 11:37 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Descent into Hell
As a theological argument, Descent into Hell may make for good fiction, but as a novel, it leaves much to be desired. While many proclaim this the finest of Williams's works, that proclamation probably needs some scrutiny and qualification to make any sense. Perhaps the acclaim is for the interesting concept and final delivery of the book; if so, the acclaim may be justified, as the novel presents one of the more interesting climaxes in the Williams oeuvre, and the most explicit and consistent spelling out of Williams's pet doctrine of substituted love.
However well or poorly it may function as speculative or practical theology, it does not function well as a novel, not even as a novel of ideas. There are several reasons for this. The prose is tortured to the extreme, taking a long time (even for Williams) to get to the point.
The dead man had stood in what was now Wentworth's bedroom, and listened in fear lest he should hear the footsteps of his kind. That past existed still in its own place, since all the past is in the web of life nothing else than a part, of which we are not sensationally conscious. It was drawing closer now to the present; it approached the senses of the present. But between them still there went---patter,patter--the hurrying footsteps which Margaret Anstruther had heard in the first circle of the Hill. The dead man had hardly heard them; his passion had carried him through that circle into death. But on the hither side were the footsteps, and the echo and memory of the footsteps, of this world. It was these for which Wentworth listened. . .
And on, and on, and on, and on. "But between them still there went. . ." Between whom? Between the past and the present, between Wentworth and the dead man, between the people of the Hill. The writing is murky, unclear, imprecise, unfinished. There are few pages in the book that do not display at least one hefty lump of prose to match the above. There is about the writing nothing clear and precise, but a seemingly endless grinding of the same grain. Had there been somewhat less, the novel would have occupied perhaps two-thirds of its present length and come to a much stronger and more powerful conclusion for being more direct concerning what it was about. Williams plays too coy with his theme for too long.
In addition, there are few real characters in the book. Mrs. Anstruther and the Poet Stanhope speak in cryptic, labyrinthine sentences that suggest more the Oracles at Delphi than any reasonable character. Wentworth, driven by his own selfishness and ego becomes a mockery of himself (although this is the end of utter selfishness) and Pauline isn't quite firmly enough drawn to bear the weight laid upon her shoulders by the plot line.
The story about which these theological speculations are clustered, the presentation of a play by a group of performers at the Hill, is so trivial as to be at points painful. Doppelgangers, Lamias, ghosts or revenants, and personified elementals all loom large, or rather small as Williams isn't the least interested in any of these, and thus cannot cause the reader to evince interest. Williams is interested in his idea which, while fascinating, hardly makes for compelling reading as a piece of fiction.
In truth, nearly every other book of Williams is superior as fiction. No other approaches it (except perhaps All Hallows Eve) in the courage and strength of its initial ideation, nor in the pervasiveness of the coherent center of the book. Nevertheless, ideas rarely make for compelling fiction. And in this case, the idea, glorious in itself needs a better vehicle than a novel for it to achieve effect. And as the idea cannot be in the ascendant here, neither can the novel based entirely upon the effect of the idea succeed.
If one is inclined to read Williams, it may be better to start with nearly any other work and to find one's way slowly back to this. An appreciation of Williams's prose effects and system of writing may sustain one through the reading of this book, but perhaps only barely.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 12:27 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
Possible Responses to a Query
A notation at Father Jim's reminded of that age-old question that I'm so thankful is neither asked nor heard of within the precincts of a Catholic Church. The query and some possible responses (in various shades of snarkiness) below.
"Have you found Jesus?"
"Oh dear, have you misplaced Him?"
"I hadn't heard He'd gone missing."
"No, but He found me."
"Are you looking for a referral?"
"This isn't 'Where's Waldo.'"
Posted by Steven Riddle at 2:56 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
June 28, 2006
Unlikely Etymologies
Have you ever noticed the affinity of très chère and treasure. The few things in my life that I would refer to as one are indeed the only things that are the other.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 7:28 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
An Unsurprising Thought
Giving something to God means that one has no rights to it anymore, neither to worry about it, nor to think about it, nor to call it one's own. To take back a gift is, at best, ungracious, and at worst an offense. And everything given to God is regarded by Him as a gift. There's a lot of comfort to be had in such a thought.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 7:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack