John Adams to Abigail Adams, Letter of 3 July 1776
But the day is past. The second day of July, 1776, will be memorable epocha in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations, as the great Anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the day of deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp, shews, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires and illuminations, from one end of the continent to the other, from this time forward forever.
"Being persuaded that there can be but one true religion taught by Christ, and that the R C is that religion, I conceive it to be my duty to have my grandchildren brought up in it. I feel no ill will or illiberal prejudices against the sectarians which have abandon that faith; if their lives be conformable to the duties and morals prescribed by the Gospel, I have the charity to hope and believe they will be rewarded with eternal happiness, though they may entertain erroneous doctrines in point of faith; the great number in every religion not having the leisure or means to investigate the truth of the doctrines they have been taught, must rest their religious faith on their instructors, and therefore the great body of the people may conscientiously believe that they hold the true faith; but they who, from liberal education, from understanding, from books, not written by one party only, and from leisure, have the means of examining into the truth of the doctrines they have been taught as orthodox, are in my opinion bound to make the examination, nor suffer early instructions and impressions or habits or prejudices to operate against the conviction of what is right. Upon conviction only a change of religion is desirable; on a concern so seriously interesting to all of us no worldly motives should sway our conduct." -- letter to Harriet Chew Carroll, 29 August 1816 (Harriet, or "Hettie," was the daughter-in-law of Charles Carroll)
After learning Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" on Piano, "Odd to Joy Rocks." (Yes, that's Odd).
After learning Beethoven's Turkish March, "Classical music rocks."
These two pieces have gotten him to study piano and really be interested. Perhaps we have too few piano players because of methods that provide distinct disincentive to continue. What say you?
Mysteriously, as is usual in these things, my Hard Drive bombed out yesterday leaving me with the NEW IMPROVED Windows XP black screen of death from which you cannot possibly recover anything.
Result--reformat disk, reinstall Windows, reinstall each separate tedious application, reset all preferences, days and days and days of work.
Praise God!
Other net result--months of accumulated junk gone in an instant, everything clean and shiny and new. Important Data---multiple redundant backups in multiple locations. A pain to deal with, but on the other hand, nothing serious lost.
Praise God!
This is such a blessing. I have had such an enormous burden of accumulated junk removed and now I have the opportunity to start over with a clean new system.
Of course, I nearly immediately junked it up again. But I erected a new folder structure and everything is much better organized than I would have made it within the parameters of the last system.
There really are great blessings in starting anew. This is one of those death and resurrection experiences that help reinforce my faith.
And while all of this may seem to have a satirical or sardonic undertone, let me assure you, my joy is real, and everything written here is a cause for glorifying God. When we are too weak to do what need be done, He will help us. When we are reluctant, He will put the car in gear. This is one of those times.
God is very good indeed!
Loved it.
This is exactly the kind of film I like--a treasure hunt, based in history for a treasure hidden by the Masons. Clue left all over lead the protagonist finally to. . . well, now, that would be telling wouldn't it.
It is this premise that made The DaVinci Code and Angels and Demons entertaining and interesting. No, I wasn't interested in the characters. No, the theology was rotten to the core. But it was the challenge of unravelling one after another a series of hidden clues that would reveal when all followed to their conclusion some amazing end result. (Now the end result in The DaVinci Code was idiotic and ill-conceived. As we all know, Mary Magdalene is not the Son of God, and the whole notion of her "divinity" in the book is a silly rip-off of earlier, ill-conceived speculations on divinity.)
But National Treasure (except for its fondness for Masons) has nothing of like alienating potential. The story is literally and figuratively a treasure hunt in which the founding fathers have left a trail of clues as to the location of a fabulous treasure rescued during the first Crusade by those who would become the Knights Templar. Most intruguing is the idea that the first clues to this treasure are encoded on the back of the original Declaration of Independence. (The only problem being that the original was a printed copy, not the manuscirpt copy in the hand of Thomas Jefferson with all of the strikeouts etc. And the "original" was one of multiple printings at the same time. But I suppose we needn't trouble ourselves over that because the Fathers, after they had determined which one would be preserved as the original could easily have done all that is suggested.
Anyway--a fun, fast-paced, exciting film. Recommended.
A while back there was a travelling meme that asked one to name five things that everyone around one was wild about but to which one was rather cool. I never participated because it strained my brain to think of five things. But here's two:
Ron Howard and Tom Hanks.
Ron Howard hasn't produced a thing since EdTV that even remotely interested me. And he goes on to produce progressively less interesting things with each new film. A Simple Mind (as I call it) had me turned off about six minutes into the film. Meeting the protagonist was such an agony of unpleasantness, that I decided I could do without the rest of the film (much to my wife's dismay). So too, I've already decided to forego the elusive pleasures of Cinderella Man. However, I can tell you that two women whose opinion I trust on these matters (while I may not necessarily agree) have both enthusiastically recommended it.
So if watching two people bash each other bloody is your cup of tea, it would seem the Cinderella Man is your tea-party in heaven.
On another front--Russell Crowe--an actor whom I can enjoy at times--is in a very long lull for me. The last two films I really enjoyed were Virtuosity and L. A. Confidential, both horrendously violent. Of recent date we have The Insider (ho hum), Gladiator (repulsive from the very first scene--so ahistorical as to cause an immediate gut-level reaction resulting in the set being turned off), A Simple Mind aka A Beautiful Mind yawn-fest extraordinaire dealing with an unpleasant man's unpleasant life, Master and Commander, which I typified by a dark and soggy Ivory/Merchant wannabe--I found both main characters unattractive and it is only on Talmida's enthusiastic recommendation that I retain any scrap of desire to actually read the books (and Talmida's recommendation is not to be underestimated as she liked both Barry Hughart's Bridge of Birds and Mary Doria Russell's magnificent Children of God and (I assume) The Sparrow), and now Cinderella Man. Now, my opinion of these is not to reflect at all upon their worth as films. A great many have enjoyed them tremendously, and I derive from that that they are good, well-made films into which I simply haven't been invited. That's all right--I don't need to be as there is a great deal out in the world of cinema to see. But I do find it something of a trial that I cannot enjoy the opus of an actor whose work I really do like. (Personally, I find the man not in the least admirable. Things like this just add to my opinion of him. But he has legions of devoted fans who turn themselves into pretzels (my wife among them) explaining how the news didn't REALLY report what REALLY REALLY happened and he isn't REALLY all that bad at all, and besides he's misunderstood. I've learned to tune this stream of things out--consistent reportage reveals that the man has serious issues that need to be dealt with long-term. Let us hope that his family does not suffer with them as well.)
What can I say? I was amused despite myself. I wanted not to like it. I wanted to be able to pooh-pooh it. But I wasn't able to. It was so darkly amusing and so odd that it was endearing. Meryl Streep's character was particularly amusing, and the children, particularly the youngest were quite endearing.
Not great cinema, but very amusing. Samuel saw it and loved it. His one reaction was, "Count Olaf is worse than Vicki/." (Vicki is the babysitter on The Fairly Oddparents who is constantly plotting to take over the world and make Timmy's life miserable.) As a result, we've promised to change our babysitter from Vicki to the Count Olaf Child-Care Service. Meeting all your needs for unpleasantness since 2004.
Anyway, an amusing little film. I can't get enthusiastically behind a recommendation, because I suspect that enjoyment of such a film is an acquired taste. But for those who have acquired the taste: highly recommended--good light-brained fun.
Yesterday I was under obligation to attend a Maronite Rite Mass. The Priest at this relatively new Church had been an advisor and a helper to the Carmelite community. His bishop was visiting and he needed to swell the ranks of his members at the early Mass.
I say under obligation, but also under some curiousity about what exactly the Maronite Rite might consist of.
It was an interesting experience. The church was beautifully arrayed. I had half-expected an iconostasis, because the rite is Eastern. There was not one. Overall, the church had the effect of a slightly less ornate Roman Church. This may be because it was relatively new and Father George had to woo western Rite Catholics to make a go of it here. I don't know. But it was a small, beautiful church.
The rite itself suggested the Byzantine in some of its particulars, but that may just be the result of a liturgical tin-ear. Communion was by intinction.
The most interesting aspect of the Mass is that the prayers of instittion (or whatever the prayers are called when we say "The night before He was betrayed, Jesus. . .") were in Aramaic. It didn't sound all that much different from the Syriac of some of the responses.
It was a perfectly wonderful, beautiful rite. I could be at home in this Church, but I am not tempted away from my own parish and its liturgy. As I said, I probably have a liturgical tin-ear. While there may have been a bit more of holy silence about the place than there is in any Latin Rite church I've attended, that may also have been the result of a smaller congregation. While the prayers and responses in syriac were interesting and mysterious, they did not inspire me to heights of devotion, nor did they particularly perturb me. I got lost in the missal a couple of times, but was easily able to find my way back.
I am grateful that the Church embraces such a diversity of traditions--22 in all, I'm told--21 Eastern, the bulk of which are in the Patriarchate of Constantinople so they vaguely resemble the Byzantine Rite, and one Western-Latin or Roman Rite.
As I reflect upon this experience I discover that I am likely a ritual indifferentist. So long as Jesus is there it doesn't matter to me if we pray in English, Latin, Slavonic, Syriac, or Aramaic. I am not persuaded to greater heights of devotion by mysterious foreign languages or clouds of incense (which, during allergy season only aggravate my respiratory troubles). It is for this reason that it may take me a while to work up the desire to wander out to a Tridentine Mass. I'd like to see what so many hold so dear, but it isn't a burning, overwhelming desire, it is mere curiousity. Perhaps I would be transported with new joy over it, but I suspect, protestant-raised as I am, that it will have minimal effect. On the other hand, if we really have Gregorian Chanting--I would find that moving and interesting and I hope reverent and awe-inspiring.
I suppose this is to say that if the entire Church were to return to the Tridentine Mass tomorrow, I'd adjust and go on my way, hopefully toward God. I don't think it would perturb me, but I'm also uncertain it would particularly inspire me.