A Reflection on a Palm Sunday Hymn

Ride on! Ride on! in majesty, the winged squadron of the sky
Look down with sad and wondering eyes, to see the approaching sacrifice.

Ride on! Ride on! in majesty, thy last and fiercest strife is nigh.
The Father on his sapphire throne, expects his own anointed Son. ~Milman, 1820

Three years ago, I had the pleasure of rehearsing the hymn that includes these verses with a class of seminarians who had a deep affection for poetry and theology. The reaction of one, imprinted indelibly on my mind, was tears at these two verses. It isn’t surprising-I’ve had the same reaction. One of a good hymn’s greatest traits, is its ability to speak of objective events without injecting the author’s subjective opinions of the event. There is no “I” or “Me” anywhere in this hymn. And yet, at the same time, it is suffused with deeply moving imagery, poetry, and devotion.

A few thoughts on these stanzas: the irony of the shared opening line must be embraced. The majesty is not what we would imagine. Rather than a glorious steed, the Davidic King, the one who had just raised Lazarus from the dead, approaches on the lowliest of animals. As long prophesied, he comes on an ass, meek and lowly. Some degree of mystery, a lingering sense that something was not quite right, must have overshadowed this otherwise joyous occasion. This is attested by the author’s reflection on the angel armies, the entire heavenly host gazing upon this spectacle with sadness and wonder. Wonder, because as the scriptures teach, the angels look upon the mysteries of salvation without full comprehension. (I Pet.1:12) Yet here, sadness too. The angelic band senses the inconsistency of His Majesty’s beast and the clamors of “Hosanna!”. An awareness exists that this scene will rapidly transition from celebration to crucifixion. This reality awakens sadness in the messengers of God as they realize the divine scheme’s most critical moments have arrived. And the author keenly grasps the precise reason for Christ’s entry into Jerusalem-he comes as sacrifice. More on this momentarily.

The idea that there was a “last strife” indicates this isn’t the first contest for Christ and the powers of darkness. And indeed, the fasting and temptation in the wilderness, the challenges by the Jewish elite, and other events in Christ’s life could all be counted as strife. But here, hell will summon all its powers. One last, grand effort is launched-a battle the devil seemingly wins, though we know in the words of Chrysostom that “hell took a body, and met God face to face. It took earth, and encountered Heaven. It took that which was seen, and was overcome by what was unseen.” Imagine, only one Warrior could prevail in this encounter-humanity united to Divinity in the Person of Jesus Christ. Hell would have succeeded in any other fight. But not with the Word made Flesh. No mistake should be made, however, it was a fierce strife. And no other power could be summoned to wrestle with sin and death-but Life himself. And that is why the verse ends with the glorious line “the Father...expects his own anointed Son.”

But this battle would not be waged with conventional weapons. A meek and lowly servant-a willing victim- fights with a love that could not be overcome. There are numerous interpretive lenses through which we can examine the atonement. But the chief one, and the one to which all other must be subservient, is that Christ is sacrifice. He willingly lays down his life. The Father does not execute him. Neither does Pilate or the rabble. It is a free offering which both fulfills and supersedes every other sacrifice made within the walls of the temple. The words of Jesus’ cousin and forerunner “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” are apt. Watch as the Lord, strong and mighty, the King of Glory rides to the everlasting doors armed with divine love to freely give himself.
Reflecting on these themes, tears seem an appropriate response.

Thoughts from Screwtape

My Dear Wormwood,

With great pleasure, I received your last message indicating the fear your patient felt at the ongoing international calamity. Indeed, the censors of Hell have been filled with the aroma of human panic. Such delights, you must know, enchant Our Father’s heart. My admonishment to you is to continue feeding this fear. Be sure that you entice him to check his social media accounts. It makes little difference whether he reads a news report, cynical conspiracy, or a witty meme-the thing is to keep the source of fear before his eyes. When his mind turns toward work, family, friends, or especially to our Enemy, slip into his conscience a reminder of what could happen. In fact, this is the key: the Enemy desires the humans to be concerned with what they do. Your job is to focus the patient’s attention on how things may turn out. The present circumstances should help with this.

While times of great turmoil gladden our souls and human dread is our sacrament, I must warn you that such seasons can give rise to an awful specter. I can barely write it: humans considering their own mortality. Ah! Perish the thought! Slybucks and his research team have invested ages in perfecting the art of distraction. Most of our patients are buried in so many layers of them, that even if one is lost, we still have them firmly under our control. But even our best tempters have, at times, been thwarted by patients contemplating death. When it forces itself before their eyes, they begin to grapple with their priorities, order their affections, and fly to the protection of the Enemy. For reasons we have not yet discerned, He always receives them.

Wormwood, scattered reports have reached my desk which concern me. Mind you, there is time to work these developments in our favor, but you must act swiftly. The cancellation of sporting events, closing of schools, and social-distancing are giving your patient time for silence and reflection. It is precisely this scenario which could undermine all of your efforts. Instead of letting him use this time wisely, you must engender in him feelings of sadness for the toys he has lost. Lead him to wonder when he will have them again. A double pleasure! Not only will you distract him from the thoughts which would lead him to the Enemy but you will have him dwelling on distractions he cannot have. In his disappointment and despair, bring his attention again to his worst fears. His misery will be your amusement now and his soul ours forever.
Your affectionate Uncle,
Screwtape

Why Do We Study the Ancients?

Catherine asked me to address you all today on the topic of studying ancient cultures which is no small task and I will say upfront that there are a number of answers to this question which I will probably not even touch. The question is broad; but before I begin, let me say that I’m answering this question with two things in mind: 1.) that this is an objection that might be raised by a well-meaning Christian who thinks the Bible and a little American history are sufficient curriculum for a young believer. 2.) That the definition of “ancient” encompasses pre-Christian societies such as Greece and Rome.

The first reason we study the ancients is that the Bible is not the complete source of all Truth. I think that Christians are often prone to making the mistake that when it comes to questions of theology, philosophy, ethics, or anything you might study which isn’t related to our narrow definitions of math and science, the Bible is the starting and finishing place. What I’d like to suggest is that while we hold the Bible to be completely true, it is not the only source of Truth. We have the great privilege of special revelation through Jesus Christ and the Scriptures. But there is another path toward God, what we call natural revelation-that which can be discerned by examining nature and by virtue of being created in the Image of God. Because this is what the ancients relied on solely, they became awfully good at discerning Truth without having any special knowledge of what, or more specifically, who Truth was. Using the Light of Reason alone, the Ancient Greeks and Romans, and other Pagans bequeathed to us a lively tradition of literature which explores the Truths of God, Humanity, Nature and so on.

For instance, let us consider Virgil. He was born some seventy years before Christ and is considered the foremost poet of Ancient Rome. Writing one of Western Civilization’s five great epic poems will earn you that distinction. But though he would be rightly famous for the Aeneid’s composition, it is another of his works, the Eclogues to which I’d like to direct your attention. In the 4th eclogue, Virgil discusses a boy who will usher in a golden age of peace; an age marked by lions who will no longer attack herds of sheep; a boy who would take away the world’s guilt; a boy who converses with the gods. Many of the church’s theologians regarded Virgil’s words as prophetic of Jesus’ coming-and indeed, the words of the poem certainly hearken back to the prophecy of Isaiah. It is for this reason that Dante chose Virgil as his guide through Hell and Purgatory. With that in mind, it seems reasonable to believe that we ought to examine Virgil’s other works for wisdom. That is why our 10th graders read the Aeneid.

It shouldn’t surprise us that an ancient pagan has things to teach Christians. Not only are they guided by reason, but if we accept the biblical account, we are all descendants of Noah. It is not long after the flood waters recede that men decided to build a tower that would reach to the heavens. It was here that men were scattered and their languages confused. Yet, while confused, would they not have carried with them the same oral tradition as those who were dispersed in another direction? The oral tradition which would have featured the Creation of God, the Judgement of God, and the Mercy of God? And so it is that cultures the world around are infused with elements of Truth that shine through the musings of their philosophers and poets.

Now, I briefly summarized the contents of Virgil’s eclogue as a way of showing the Messianic character of some pre-Christian writing. One might object though, it sounds like passages in the Bible already-why do we need to add anything? Well what about virtues that are latent in Scripture which are more fully expounded in other literature?

One such virtue, which repeatedly leaps off the pages of Homer’s Odyssey, continually inspires conversation and questions among my Great Books students. It is the virtue of Xenia-that is Hospitality. In the Odyssey it is not uncommon to read about a guest arriving at someone’s home and being offered dinner, entertainment, lodging, various gifts, and ultimately, conveyance to their next location. In some cases, this is done without even asking for the name of the recipient. Why is such grace extended? Overall, it seems that levels of mutual trust were much higher. This leads naturally to a conversation on what has eroded trust. The overarching answer to this question is “fear”. Whereas the Homeric characters are seen welcoming the stranger into their midst (with several notable exceptions) the modern American Christian shies away from the unfamiliar on the off chance they may encounter a serial murderer or rapist.

In the time the Odyssey was written, extending hospitality was not only expected by Zeus and the travelling stranger, but it was an opportunity for the host to sow goodwill. In an age where hotels were not as prevalent as they are today, any sort of trip required dependence on hospitality. Under this system, it is difficult to imagine a scenario where the pilgrim would be refused since the host would count on the reciprocation of his kindness at a later time. It is equally difficult to see why the guest would commit a crime knowing that he would not be welcomed on future trips, thus prohibiting said trips. I don’t think I have to spell out for you the modern political issues that Homer is addressing-and I won’t since I have no desire for half the room to hate me when I’m finished speaking.

But I think Christians would do well to learn from the unfettered hospitality of the Ancient Greeks. The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews echoes the sentiments of Homer when he writes“be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” This is certainly a broad call to a more hospitable existence, but it is nowhere near as well fleshed our as the Odyssey. And so, I reiterate, the Bible is completely true, but by far, not the only source of Truth and that is a central reason we read and study ancient cultures and literature.

A second reason I would like to posit is because the New Testament, particularly St. Paul’s letters, use the language of Plato and Aristotle. If Platonism and Aristotelianism undergird the writings of Paul, we should certainly be familiar with their ramifications for doing theology. And again, this should not surprise us, remember, what we sometimes refer to as “books of the New Testament” are mostly letters to specific regions-many of them, Corinth for example, in Greece, the place where Plato and Aristotle would be widely accepted and where, if St. Paul wanted to make an impact, he would have to speak “Greek”. One of the initial places we can see this is in the first letter to the Corinithians. “Since by man came death by man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die,even so in Christ shall all be made alive.” Paul, on first blush, denies the existence of the will and its corollary doctrine of Hell. Christ’s coming has made everyone alive whether they want to be or not. But this seeming difficulty is very easy to resolve if you understand Paul is speaking Plato. One of the integral themes in Platonic writing is the existence of Forms. The shortest way to summarize what these are is to consider beauty. Mountains and oceans may both be said to be beautiful even though they are obviously different. They are beautiful according to Plato, because they reflect or participate in a universal form of Beauty. Why does this matter for Theology? When Paul writes to the Corinthians-he uses humanity as a universal. As all of humanity is corrupted by the Fall of Adam, so too all of it is restored by the Perfect and True Form of Humanity-namely Christ. This is not universalism in the sense that all men are automatically going to heaven-but it rules out any notion that Christ’s death and resurrection are not sufficient for all-precisely because we are all linked together by the universal of humanity.

Paul also uses Aristotle. Aristotle is famous for talking about the “ends” of things. The most familiar example is that of the acorn. Built into the Acorn is the potential for an oak tree. It is the telos or the purpose of the acorn’s existence. Aristotle would jump from that to discussing humanity. We too have an end or purpose toward which we are striving. Paul latches on to this idea and language in his Epistle to the Ephesians. “Having predestinated us unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ to himself, according to the good pleasure of his will, To the praise of the glory of his grace, wherein he hath made us accepted in the beloved.”

What he means is that man has a telos, an end, or a purpose. Our destiny is comformity to the image of God and adoption into the family of Jesus Christ-that is our final Cause, our end. The predestination Paul speaks of is sometimes mis-interpreted to mean the inclusion of some and rejection of others-as some being chosen and others not. It would make sense if you didn’t see the Aristotelian language to interpret it this way. But knowing that Paul is aping Aristotle, we conclude that predestination has more to do with the end for which we were created than it does with God picking favorites

In all, we study the Ancients to better know Christ, to better understand how we ought to live, and finally, to better comprehend theology. Knowing this, the Scriptures are sufficient for our salvation, but superbly supplemented by other sources and traditions.

Sermon for 1st Sunday after Christmas/St. John the Evangelist

Sermon for the 1st Sunday after Christmas/St. John the Evangelist
Billy Jenkins

Today, the church celebrates the feast of St. John the Evangelist. Which of course means, our readings, despite being the first Sunday after Christmas, do not sound particularly Christmassy. But that’s alright, we still have occasion to speak of the events of Christmas today. For the reason St. John’s feast is the 3rd day of Christmas is because he spent much time elaborating on the themes of light in darkness and that the Light of the world was the Incarnate Son of God. The Word, the 2nd person of the Trinity, took to himself a body and became God in the Flesh.

I hope all of you have taken some time to be lost in the wonder of this mystery over the last few days. I know for me it takes some effort; the seminary classes I teach spend a good amount of time talking about the Incarnation and I’m quite positive I could bore you to tears with some of the tedious thoughts that surrounded the person of Jesus Christ in the earliest church. But it’s more than that; I struggle because this idea that God came down at Christmas and was born of a Virgin in a stable has been so engrained in me that I take it for granted. I’d like us to consider a couple of thoughts; first, from C.S Lewis. In his book, Miracles, he spoke of the grand miracle being the Incarnation of the Divine Word. And he wrote, to get your mind wrapped around this event consider this analogy: God becoming man, is like one of us deigning to take on the existence of a slug. Think about that: a slimy, gross slug-small, living under wood and rocks. A creature I think many of us look at and either don’t think twice about, or who give a short and succinct exposition of our feelings by saying “ew”! And so, the Incarnation is a great condescension. We should reflect on that.
But it’s more than the humility of God’s Son. It’s also a mystery as to how it even took place. How does one who is eternal step into time? Micah’s prophecy tells us that his goings have been of old and that he is from everlasting. How does this work? Furthermore, this is the God who made everything, and as its Maker, exists outside of all his creation. We sing this somewhat regularly at communion “whom all the world could not contain”. And yet, he takes on the limits of space which is common to all men. To use the theological term, God becomes circumscribed in the person of Jesus, he takes boundaries to himself. Again, how is that even possible? I won’t pretend that I can explain it-but I want us all to marvel at this. We may not understand the “how” but with the blessed Mother, we too can ponder all these things in our heart.”

In reflecting on God becoming man, it is not only his humility and the mystery of it all, it is the wonder of God establishing a way for men to return to him. I would like to stitch together several passages to help make this point. One of my favorite verses of Scripture is from Isaiah 40, where the prophet wrote “the Glory of the Lord of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.” Perhaps, on the surface, this verse does not strike you as odd. But I have to imagine that any Jew who heard or read what Isaiah had to say would have been shocked. After all, this privilege of seeing God’s glory was not accorded to Moses, the man who stands next to Abraham as the two pillars of Jewish tradition. Do you remember that story? It comes from the end of Exodus 33. It is filled with anthropomorphic figures of speech to describe Jehovah, it is dark, it is mysterious and terrible. Listen to these verses:

And he (moses) said, I beseech thee, shew me thy glory.
19 And he said, I will make all my goodness pass before thee, and I will proclaim the name of the LORD before thee; and will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy.
20 And he said, Thou canst not see my face: for there shall no man see me, and live.
21 And the LORD said, Behold, there is a place by me, and thou shalt stand upon a rock:
22 And it shall come to pass, while my glory passeth by, that I will put thee in a clift of the rock, and will cover thee with my hand while I pass by:
23 And I will take away mine hand, and thou shalt see my back parts: but my face shall not be seen.

Moses, the meekest man on the earth, by all accounts deserving, if any man were, to see the glory of God, was forbidden. He was able to see a little bit of the back end of it, but the sheer weight and luminosity of God’s glory would have killed him according to verse 20. While this is certainly true and the clearest understanding of the text, I want to suggest that there is also an element of timing involved in God’s decision. First, St. John clearly teaches in his first epistle that there will come a time in the age to come, that men will see God “as he is”. At that time, the Glory of God will not be too much a burden for us to bear, but we will revel in it. Set free completely from sin, we will no longer feel the piercing of his holy eyes. That is why heaven has long been described in the church as the “beatific vision”, to behold the face of God. That is what we long for. But must we wait for death to attain the vision of God?

We return again to our Old Testament reading; “the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.” When is it that this glory will be seen? Does Isaiah say at death? Recall the verses that immediately preceded it: “The voice of one crying in the wilderness prepare ye the way of the Lord. Make straight in the highway a desert for our God.” We’ve just concluded the season of Advent where we see this passage featured in the gospel and call to worship. We know this is the voice of John the Baptizer. So if we read this passage carefully we can determine that, after the Baptist, those of low estate would be lifted up, those who esteemed themselves highly would be made low, and those who were crooked and rough would be straightened and smooth by the call to repentance. And after this had been done, the glory of God would be revealed. Well what did John prophesy? Yes, he was a prophet in the sense of calling the people to repentance. But he also pointed ahead to something, or in this case, someone. We read just a week ago the words “there stands one among you whose shoe I’m unworthy to unloose.” When Isaiah said the “glory of the Lord shall be revealed” on the heels of John the Baptist, he meant Christ. Christ is the glory of the Lord. This is why on Christmas day we read that great verse from Hebrews 1 the Son is “the brightness [or radiance] of the Father’s glory”.

But as clear as the author of Hebrews may be, this passage is trumped, as it were, by the Gospel for Christmas day. What our beloved St. John teaches us at the end of his prologue is this: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, the glory of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” John teaches his readers that we have seen the glory of God in the person of Jesus Christ. That which Moses was blocked from seeing, that which Isaiah some five hundred years later said would in the future be revealed,is manifested forth in the child of Bethlehem.
Friends, you should wonder at our Lord’s humility; you should stand amazed in contemplation of the mystery of the incarnation; but I urge you to step beyond this and consider that Isaiah says all flesh will see the Glory of the Lord revealed. In the older covenant, not even Moses, who shared intimate communion with God in the mountain, not even Moses, was able to see this glory. But we have that right! In taking humanity unto himself, God has made a way of access for us to the glory of the Father which we in our fallen state cannot behold. That is an enormous part of the beauty of living in the newer covenant.

You might ask, and fairly so, what’s the big deal? So God in his mercy chooses in the fullness of time to show his glory in a way he had previously not, why does that matter? I think the key to understanding this lies in Jehovah’s answer to Moses upon Moses’ request to see God’s glory. The Lord answered him “I will make all my goodness pass before thee.” Shortly thereafter, the Lord hides him because he can’t see this goodness. The puritan commentator Matthew Henry explicitly states, “the goodness of God is his glory.” Which means that the child in the manger is God’s goodness. And this makes perfect sense; in Exodus 33:19 as the Lord describes the goodness that will pass before Moses, he says “I will be gracious to those whom I will be gracious and I will show mercy on those whom I show mercy.” In other words, goodness of God is the grace and mercy which saves us. While the older covenant had rituals which looked ahead to the coming of the Messiah, God’s glory, or goodness, were not yet fully revealed. Beloved, in the Christmas seasons, we rejoice that that which the holy seers and prophets saw not, has been revealed to us.
And that pronoun, “us” is interesting. In the limited vision God gave Moses, he made one thing absolutely clear: his grace and mercy would remain partially shrouded and would extend only as far as God deemed it should go, namely Israel. But Isaiah foresaw that “all flesh would see it”. When the Word took flesh to himself, the fullness of God’s plan was revealed. The limitation of salvation to the house of Israel would be blown wide open as the Gentiles would be welcomed in to the fold. Friends, we must eschew any sense of self-importance and deserving. The holiest man of the Israelites was denied what the most common of all Gentiles has now seen.

One of the unfortunately neglected saints in the Christmas season is Simeon. The end of Luke chapter 2 tells us that he was a holy man who was promised that he would not taste of death until he saw the Lord’s Christ. He lived in the Temple and when Mary and Joseph brought him, Simeon sang the most lovely of songs. “Lord, now let thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word. For my eyes have seen they salvation.” Simeon looked upon the newborn and saw the salvation of God; which is to say he saw the goodness of God; which is to say, he saw the glory of God. And he knew Isaiah’s prophecy: which is why his song continues with the theme that Christ would be a “light to lighten the Gentiles and the glory of thy people Israel.” Simeon knew all flesh would be able to see what he saw.

In a little while, we will sing again the carol of Charles Wesley, Hark! The Herald. And we will sing that magnificent line “Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see, Hail! The incarnate Deity.” The glory which St. John labored to explain , the glory now available for all men to behold, is there in the Christ child. O come, let us adore him. Alleluia. Amen.

Why Classical Music Is Unpopular

This week, a colleague of mine summarized the work a portion of Joseph Pieper’s work “Leisure: The Basis of Culture” with the words “for the ancients…true and pure leisure is attained the moment we no longer have to work to conform our mind to truth, our will to goodness, and our emotions to beauty.” The implication in this statement is that our minds, wills, and emotions are not always naturally inclined toward the Transcendentals. In the place of truth, goodness, and beauty we gravitate toward lesser things. These lesser things may participate to some degree in truth, goodness, and beauty, but not in their fullness. What is it that that causes us to accept that which is less than ideal and substitute it with something less?

Perhaps one reason for this is that we often choose the simple over the more complex. This is not to say that simplicity is not sometimes to be preferred. Indeed, I have found it to be so. A Robert Frost poem and one by T.S. Eliot each have their place and I love both. And while my goal is not to demean Frost, he is, objectively speaking, much easier to understand on first blush than Eliot is. T.S, Eliot requires you to read, reread, and read again in order to even begin broaching the depth of his thoughts. The complexity of Ash Wednesday dwarfs that of the Road Not Taken. As such, it requires time, effort, and thought to appreciate its subtleties. My argument is that we are often not willing to give these and that that is particularly true in the realm of music.

Flipping through my radio stations is sometimes an exercise in futility. Rhyming phrases devoid of meaning, strong sexual overtones, or thoughtless drivel are common. These are then set to oft repeated chord structures, boring instrumentation, and melodies which lack creativity. Before I go further, allow me to say that this is not intended as a blanket condemnation of modern music. I’m more than happy to listen to Bastille’s Pompeii, I own Celine Dion’s greatest hits CD, and I’ve been known to say or sing “Turn Down for What” when I am excited about something. Musically and lyrically, however, these songs pale in comparison to what we broadly call “Classical” music. Yet, love for classical music appears from all my experience to be at an all time low. Why? As hinted at above, learning to love classical music requires time, effort, and thought. It is rarely easy listening. But I would argue that acquiring the musical knowledge necessary to enjoying this music and immersion in it will, in time, produce a deep love for its beauty which you will not always have to strive for; it will become natural.

Structure is important to classical music. And it isn’t as simple as “Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus-Bridge-Key Change-Final Chorus” There are Rondos, Sonata Form, A-B Form, Theme and Variation and several other prominent forms which classical music takes. Understanding which you are listening to can help you organize in your mind what you are hearing. If you are listening to choral music, recognizing the process of text painting will enlighten your understanding. This does require study of historical musical trends and of basic music fundamentals, but again, appreciating the beauty present in this music takes time and effort. For instance, in Beethoven’s Mass in C in the Credo, three E-flat chords, each dotted-half notes, precede the line “Deum de Deo, Lumen de Lumine” that is “God of God, Light of Light”. The phrase is one which helps explain the Divinity of Christ. It is thus a reference to the truth that while God is one, he is also more than one, that is, he is Three Persons. Three chords, each three beats, one note in each measure, perfectly conveys the idea, through the music, that God is Three and yet One. Further, the fact that Beethoven used E-Flat is significant. For Beethoven it is the key of royalty. The Eroica symphony, dedicated to Napolean, was written in E-Flat. The Emperor Piano Concerto is written in E-Flat. This seemingly innocuous transition between phrases in the Creed is teeming with symbolism. It is a musical painting of the text. But gleaning this means years of study. In addition to learning various structures and text painting, one should also study the differences between homophonic and polyphonic music, the nationalism of Romantic music, and so many other aspects.

The likelihood of this though is small. For many, the work required to appreciate the beauty is overwhelming and admittedly, it doesn’t happen overnight. But if you have enough patience to immerse yourself in it, and can take the time to learn even some of the background and fundamentals that make up classical music, your appreciation for its depth, quality, and complexity will soar. My oldest son, whose musical tastes are generally not my own (and that’s alright) has, through repeated exposure, come to love the musical/pop opera Les Miserables. This music is not classical, but it is decidedly more complex and intricate than most of what he listens to. I have been listening to Puccini’s La Boheme of late and was listening to it in the car earlier this week with both boys. They’ve heard the section we were listening to before and I could tell, looking in the rear view mirror, that they didn’t mind what they were hearing. Their first choice? I highly doubt it. But one they are beginning to appreciate and even like? Yes. As they get older, I’ll explain to them the details that make these works great. I don’t think full comprehension of their beauty is possible until then. And, until as a culture, we make the commitment to love that which is beautiful and complex, classical music will continue to wane in popularity. But if the effort and study is made, over time beauty will be preferred and listening to and appreciating classical music will truly be an act of leisure.

Baptism: As Illustrated by a Little Story

I was listening to a short portion of a Christian radio program on my way home this evening. It was narrated by a man who sounded vaguely like the narrator in Disney's Charlotte's Web. He relayed a story about a young 1st grader who, as 6 year old's are wont to do, had a bladder accident at his school desk. Fearful of being called out by the approaching teacher, and subsequently humiliated in front of his peers, the boy began to panic internally. A young girl sitting next to him must have noticed him fidgeting. It happened to be show and tell day and the girl had brought her goldfish to class. Knowing that within seconds the teacher would ask what was under the boy's chair, thus potentially ruining the rest of his elementary school experience, the girl dropped her fish bowl between them. The water mixed with the urine, and while the smell must have still been slightly pungent, it destroyed any evidence of the voided bladder. The girl confirmed later that the dropping of the fish bowl was not an accident. The boy had been saved by water. Water, which you might say, had been poured over his transgressions. I Peter 3 reminds us "Baptism now saves us". The epistle to Titus confirms this teaching when it speaks of the "washing of regeneration." Other passages could be offered in support of the Baptism's effects, but the point here is not an in depth theological discussion. Rather, to point out the obvious. Water cleans things. Whether it be dishes or bodies, that's what water does. The spiritual application is the same: something is being washed. The 1662 Book of Common Prayer leaves no doubt about that which is washed. Almighty and everlasting God, who of thy great mercy didst save Noah and his family in the Ark from perishing by water, and also didst safely lead the children of Israel thy people through the red Sea, figuring thereby thy holy baptism; and by the baptism of thy well beloved son Jesus Christ in the river Jordan didst sanctify water to the mystical washing away of sin: We beseech thee for thine infinite mercies, that thou wilt mercifully look upon this Child, wash him, and sanctify him with the holy Ghost, that he being delivered from thy Wrath, may be received into the Ark of Christ's Church, and being steadfast in faith, joyful through hope, and rooted in Charity may so pass the waves of this troublesome world, that finally he may come to the land of everlasting life, there to reign with thee world without end, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. How it is that physical elements communicate spiritual riches to us is a mystery all its own. Nevertheless, they do. May the story above remind us that the water which came from Christ's side is every bit as much a part of redemption as the blood. And may we take comfort in the Water which initiated us into the Kingdom of God and those other physical elements, Bread and Wine, which help us remain therein.

Detachment, Desire, and Death

My wife and I had a rather long talk with one of our sons about sharing last night. His attachment to certain toys and unwillingness to let others play with them brought this about. Easily, I could write an entire post criticizing him for this and list all of the things we taught him to help other parents struggling with the same thing. It's easy, however, to point out a stingy child and make him an example. What's a little more difficult is looking inward and seeing where you are either stingy or too attached. God is gracious to his children. When we are too attached to things other than him, he reminds us. On the surface, these reminders may seem like punishments. A piece of technology we love, breaks. The money we were saving (perhaps hoarding) has to be used for a car repair or medical bill. We may view these as chance events or as God exacting revenge on us, but ultimately I think God uses events like these to detach us from things that keep us from him. He does it because he loves us and wants us to love him. It's only when we have been torn away from the things in this life that we love, that our soul's desire can be properly focused. Insofar as things can die, death needs to take place in order for the true fulfillment of desire to happen. Today, I was thinking about my own earthly attachments. If I may be so bold, there are few things I'm overly attached to. My computer might be one (which, I suppose, makes this post supremely ironic). But really more than any thing, I'm attached to people. Specifically, I'm attached to my family and a few very close friends. I long for the time I get to spend with these people. I can't wait for the weekends when I actually see my wife, or my parents. Family and friends are wonderful blessings and I think attachment to them is of a different nature than that of material objects. But they can still keep us from God if we are more attached to them than the One who gave them to us. As I said above, God is gracious to his children. Sometimes death occurs in our families. Ones we love are taken from this earth. We grieve. Not as those who have no hope, but still we grieve. Yet, this can be a time to draw closer to the Lord. All believers will meet again in the Kingdom of Heaven. But we must get there first. This is the beautiful thing about proper priorities. If we put Jesus before everything, we get him and all the other riches of this life in the end. If we prefer even the smallest of trifles to Him, nothing, in the end, is ours. What is the point of all this? Attachment to anything other than God will not fulfill any of our desires. Our inordinate desires, our attachments, have to be crucified and our souls rightly focused on him who alone can satisfy. Death then leads to life. Sometimes this means something as simple as sharing what is ours (for it is truly only in the act of sharing that anything is ours) or it could be the cessation of breath in a human being we treasured. As painful as loss can be, it may be the removal of an obstacle to heaven.