The End of Semester Grind. This year it is brutality of fingers on laptop swinging a million miles a second. It seems. Here I am racing the clock to get this particular paper done in time to drop of the essay by my professor's house, which I don't think is going to happen before she gets home. This week has resulted in the production of nearly thirty pages so far, working on the next set of ten, and then there is ten more to work on after today which I am saving to work on AFTER my French exam tomorrow.
All I can think about at this point is how much I want Friday to come, Friday....sweet Friday. This particular Friday meaning that the term is over and I can rejoice. Friday, how you taunt me. Cruel Friday. Only two days away.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Journey as we never intended but always needed.
I missed last week, on more than one level. I fell short of my own goal. And here I am, meditating on the next week of this journey, finally. Last week was a quiet Sunday. My fiance left town to handle inventory with his unit in another state, so I had what should have been a quiet week to myself, except that it was far from quiet. In the hustle and bustle of closing out the semester, I found myself running like a chicken with no head trying to get my final list of assignments finished in time for the last week of class, and with a day of financial stress and a broken laptop in the midst of it.
I consider myself fortunate for having the chance to celebrate mass at all last Sunday, with the youth of the parish closest to me--as opposed to the one I belong to, which is a few parishes over. It was a beautiful mass, contemporary music, but one hundred percent mass, and it was completes with what was actually my first Eucharistic Adoration, albeit for only twenty minutes. Imagine! Worship with the actual physical presence of Jesus, right there, in front of you. As Catholics believe in the transubstantiation, that the bread and wine actually become Christ, then a new layer was added to our worship. And I wound up on my knees in a way that I hadn't been for quiet some time.
A week later I am still thankful for that time. And as this is the week of Joy, I rejoice. That my own journey as a student will soon come to a close for the semester, and that in the midst of the darkness term paper writing brings, there is a joy far greater than completion of school work. There is a joy coming to save me from my fears and from my own darkness and from my own sin. But without the journey through the darkness of anticipation and doubt, that joy at the end won't seem as bright, for the darkness always makes the light brighter. And that light, equally, provides us the hope that we are seeking.
Immram is a Gaelic word for Journey, and not just any journey, but a spiritual journey, often through water. St. Brandon is said to have gone on an immram. A modern retelling of an immram can actually by read about in C.S. Lewis' Voyage of the Dawn Treader, one of the Chronicles of Narnia. It is a journey over water in search of the country of Aslan beyond the East. It's nearly impossible not to think of another event that happened in the east, in our own world, when a small child was born---a child in a land to the east who came to be a savior for mankind. Like any devotee, the three wise men went on a journey, a pilgrimage for this God-baby. And today, two thousand years later, many more pilgrims go and visit the land of this child's birth.
Advent is the immram of our hearts. Remembering that Israel wandered their own pilgrimage in the desert, that Abram made a journey in the desert, that the wise men and the even the Pevensie children made a journey through dangers and toils with nothing but a promise or a hint of the greatness promised. We wander through our own sin, our own darkness each year. And by facing that darkness inside each of us, we can bring our sin to the surface so it can be forgiven, so that we can be healed. Part of that healing, however, comes through our journey--through scripture, and mass, and fellowship. We are reminded of it on Christmas, when during the longest night of the year we are comforted by the fact that we live in the years after the child was born. The promise was fulfilled.
My own journey this year has been fraught with term papers, doubt, fears. And each day of the journey, lessons to learn. But when Christmas morning comes, I won't have to worry about them. I'll finally get to spend time with my family again, admire a beautiful tree, and cuddle by the fire with my honey. But not yet. This journey is not yet over.
But that wont keep me from rejoicing at the possibilities.
I consider myself fortunate for having the chance to celebrate mass at all last Sunday, with the youth of the parish closest to me--as opposed to the one I belong to, which is a few parishes over. It was a beautiful mass, contemporary music, but one hundred percent mass, and it was completes with what was actually my first Eucharistic Adoration, albeit for only twenty minutes. Imagine! Worship with the actual physical presence of Jesus, right there, in front of you. As Catholics believe in the transubstantiation, that the bread and wine actually become Christ, then a new layer was added to our worship. And I wound up on my knees in a way that I hadn't been for quiet some time.
A week later I am still thankful for that time. And as this is the week of Joy, I rejoice. That my own journey as a student will soon come to a close for the semester, and that in the midst of the darkness term paper writing brings, there is a joy far greater than completion of school work. There is a joy coming to save me from my fears and from my own darkness and from my own sin. But without the journey through the darkness of anticipation and doubt, that joy at the end won't seem as bright, for the darkness always makes the light brighter. And that light, equally, provides us the hope that we are seeking.
Immram is a Gaelic word for Journey, and not just any journey, but a spiritual journey, often through water. St. Brandon is said to have gone on an immram. A modern retelling of an immram can actually by read about in C.S. Lewis' Voyage of the Dawn Treader, one of the Chronicles of Narnia. It is a journey over water in search of the country of Aslan beyond the East. It's nearly impossible not to think of another event that happened in the east, in our own world, when a small child was born---a child in a land to the east who came to be a savior for mankind. Like any devotee, the three wise men went on a journey, a pilgrimage for this God-baby. And today, two thousand years later, many more pilgrims go and visit the land of this child's birth.
Advent is the immram of our hearts. Remembering that Israel wandered their own pilgrimage in the desert, that Abram made a journey in the desert, that the wise men and the even the Pevensie children made a journey through dangers and toils with nothing but a promise or a hint of the greatness promised. We wander through our own sin, our own darkness each year. And by facing that darkness inside each of us, we can bring our sin to the surface so it can be forgiven, so that we can be healed. Part of that healing, however, comes through our journey--through scripture, and mass, and fellowship. We are reminded of it on Christmas, when during the longest night of the year we are comforted by the fact that we live in the years after the child was born. The promise was fulfilled.
My own journey this year has been fraught with term papers, doubt, fears. And each day of the journey, lessons to learn. But when Christmas morning comes, I won't have to worry about them. I'll finally get to spend time with my family again, admire a beautiful tree, and cuddle by the fire with my honey. But not yet. This journey is not yet over.
But that wont keep me from rejoicing at the possibilities.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Advent of Hope
"Awake from your slumber! Arise from your sleep!
A new day is dawning for all those who weep.
The people in darkness have seen a great light.
The Lord of our longing has conquered the night."
~A City of God, hymn by Daniel L. Schutte
Yesterday was a marvelously peaceful and restful Sabbath, the likes of which I have not had the opportunity to have for some time. And at the center of it was a marvelous blueberry pancake and hot apple breakfast with my fiance, his sister and her boyfriend while lighting our first Advent candle of the season, the Candle of Hope in a time of darkness. Our little study included passages from John's Gospel, "In the beginning was the Light....," and then onto Psalms singing of the darkness and clinging to God. And Isaiah's words are always appropriate to this season. However, after the candles were snuffed out, I read the Gospel for that Sunday that I would have heard at mass had the fiance felt better: Mathew 24, 37- 44.
It's a passage that reminds us that the hour of HIS next coming could come at any moment, by utter surprise, when we least expect it. The passage is an alarm, a warning. Everything else we read points to the darkness that has enveloped the earth, and that darkness includes what lays within our very hearts. It is a reminder that my heart has a lot of preparation before I can be ready to fully embrace the Incarnation that is coming, before I can be one of those to be taken to the New Earth. There is much work to do to ready the party scene.
On the outside that could look like hanging decorations for the season to come, or in my case, as a student, it looks like wrapping up overdue projects..... but inside the depths of ourselves? That takes the courage to lift up our eyes to our Lord and ask for him. It takes a Sacrament, It takes Reconciliation. And after that, it takes Hope to maintain our dignity in the dark.
A new day is dawning for all those who weep.
The people in darkness have seen a great light.
The Lord of our longing has conquered the night."
~A City of God, hymn by Daniel L. Schutte
Yesterday was a marvelously peaceful and restful Sabbath, the likes of which I have not had the opportunity to have for some time. And at the center of it was a marvelous blueberry pancake and hot apple breakfast with my fiance, his sister and her boyfriend while lighting our first Advent candle of the season, the Candle of Hope in a time of darkness. Our little study included passages from John's Gospel, "In the beginning was the Light....," and then onto Psalms singing of the darkness and clinging to God. And Isaiah's words are always appropriate to this season. However, after the candles were snuffed out, I read the Gospel for that Sunday that I would have heard at mass had the fiance felt better: Mathew 24, 37- 44.
It's a passage that reminds us that the hour of HIS next coming could come at any moment, by utter surprise, when we least expect it. The passage is an alarm, a warning. Everything else we read points to the darkness that has enveloped the earth, and that darkness includes what lays within our very hearts. It is a reminder that my heart has a lot of preparation before I can be ready to fully embrace the Incarnation that is coming, before I can be one of those to be taken to the New Earth. There is much work to do to ready the party scene.
On the outside that could look like hanging decorations for the season to come, or in my case, as a student, it looks like wrapping up overdue projects..... but inside the depths of ourselves? That takes the courage to lift up our eyes to our Lord and ask for him. It takes a Sacrament, It takes Reconciliation. And after that, it takes Hope to maintain our dignity in the dark.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Tis the Season
Christmas seems to come earlier and earlier in the these days, especially in the realm of commercial shopping where now it feels even Thanksgiving gets forgotten about, even though the day we mean to celebrate is at the end of the year. Many of my friends have already decorated their own homes for the holidays, decked complete with fake plastic evergreen boughs and happy banners, and yet I can't help but mourn.....mourn the death of an entire season.
Advent.
Advent, for any one who is new to the concept, is the four weeks that many Christians use to prepare their hearts to receive the miracle on the incarnation of Christ. It is a time to remember that there was a time on this earth before Jesus came to die for us and that many were living only with the promise of a Messiah to save them. It is a time where Christians remember and read the prophetic texts of the Old Testament which hint at what is to come. All this is meant to make the actual day of Christmas that much more fuller, that much more meaningful, because God, in fact, did come down to earth in human form and he came disguised for a time as a poor child to a young unwed mother. This season of 'waiting' is also a reminder that as a Christian people today we are also 'waiting' for Christ's second coming.
The first week of Advent also marks the start of the Christian liturgical year.
I often celebrate this time by preparing my home and my heart for him. And I often center my home worship with an Advent wreath, which I try to make my only Christmas decoration adorning my apartment for as long as I can.
There is this thing I have noticed over the past few years I have spent in the American evangelical protestant church culture: an inherent lack of the acknowledgment of seasons. Christmas and Easter celebrations seem to come only as interruptions in the current preacher series, and only rarely have I seen any kind of spiritual preparation made to prepare our hearts for the weight and the gift of these two days. Should a Christian at some these traditions/denominations choose to participate in the sacrifice of pre-Easter fasting, they most often do so at their own accord, not within the communion of their communities, separating themselves from their local bodies of Christ. And in this, there seems to have been a deep cultural forgetting of these times of preparation, but also of the true celebration of Christmas. Luckily, some protestants have been fighting back with things like the Advent Conspiracy, which seek to spread our American wealth to those who need in and remember the point of the season is about Christ, after all.
In my own home, I try to wait to put up my Christmas boughs and holly until closer to Christmas, but I keep them up when many of my Christian and secular brothers and sisters have already taken them down.
Does anyone remember that the Christmas season is liturgically remembered until 12 days AFTER Christmas, not before, culminating in the Feast of the Epiphany, when the Christ-child is taken before the temple and visited by the old wise men on January 6, and then about a week later when we celebrate Christ's baptism. I mourn that when this day has come the world has already forgotten and taken down their boughs and holly......just at the time we should be celebrating! I take as an example a cafe I used to work at, who last year ordered all Christmas decorations be removed on Christmas Eve, so that when they opened their doors the day after Christmas, it was already Ordinary time to them again.
I don't mean to be all up in my rant. But this bugs me. And it deeply bugs me that as many Christians have limited their seasonal celebrations of Christ's life to only two times a year, they have allowed themselves to be caught up in the commercial seasons of the holidays rather than the historically sensitive liturgical ones. As a Roman Catholic, I LOVE love love that we celebrate the life of Christ with the seasons of the year, and allow ourselves whole seasons to remember what Christ did for us during his ministry on earth. And I appreciate that there are Christians who still live within this rhythm, Lutherans and Anglicans and Orthodox among them.
Next week is the last feast of the Christian liturgical calender: The Feast of Christ the King. And then, over Thanksgiving weekend, I will light the first Advent wreath candle, the candle of prophecy and anticipation. And I am looking forward to celebrating that this year more than the hype of the commercial side of the holiday.
Oh, and you won't see me deck my halls until after the season of anticipation has started, my own way of rebelling against a season of corporate greed which tries to rush one of the most beautiful times of the year.
Waiting can be a most holy cleansing process in and of itself, if we let it. Waiting gives beauty to the gift we are preparing to receive.
Advent.
Advent, for any one who is new to the concept, is the four weeks that many Christians use to prepare their hearts to receive the miracle on the incarnation of Christ. It is a time to remember that there was a time on this earth before Jesus came to die for us and that many were living only with the promise of a Messiah to save them. It is a time where Christians remember and read the prophetic texts of the Old Testament which hint at what is to come. All this is meant to make the actual day of Christmas that much more fuller, that much more meaningful, because God, in fact, did come down to earth in human form and he came disguised for a time as a poor child to a young unwed mother. This season of 'waiting' is also a reminder that as a Christian people today we are also 'waiting' for Christ's second coming.
The first week of Advent also marks the start of the Christian liturgical year.
I often celebrate this time by preparing my home and my heart for him. And I often center my home worship with an Advent wreath, which I try to make my only Christmas decoration adorning my apartment for as long as I can.
There is this thing I have noticed over the past few years I have spent in the American evangelical protestant church culture: an inherent lack of the acknowledgment of seasons. Christmas and Easter celebrations seem to come only as interruptions in the current preacher series, and only rarely have I seen any kind of spiritual preparation made to prepare our hearts for the weight and the gift of these two days. Should a Christian at some these traditions/denominations choose to participate in the sacrifice of pre-Easter fasting, they most often do so at their own accord, not within the communion of their communities, separating themselves from their local bodies of Christ. And in this, there seems to have been a deep cultural forgetting of these times of preparation, but also of the true celebration of Christmas. Luckily, some protestants have been fighting back with things like the Advent Conspiracy, which seek to spread our American wealth to those who need in and remember the point of the season is about Christ, after all.
In my own home, I try to wait to put up my Christmas boughs and holly until closer to Christmas, but I keep them up when many of my Christian and secular brothers and sisters have already taken them down.
Does anyone remember that the Christmas season is liturgically remembered until 12 days AFTER Christmas, not before, culminating in the Feast of the Epiphany, when the Christ-child is taken before the temple and visited by the old wise men on January 6, and then about a week later when we celebrate Christ's baptism. I mourn that when this day has come the world has already forgotten and taken down their boughs and holly......just at the time we should be celebrating! I take as an example a cafe I used to work at, who last year ordered all Christmas decorations be removed on Christmas Eve, so that when they opened their doors the day after Christmas, it was already Ordinary time to them again.
I don't mean to be all up in my rant. But this bugs me. And it deeply bugs me that as many Christians have limited their seasonal celebrations of Christ's life to only two times a year, they have allowed themselves to be caught up in the commercial seasons of the holidays rather than the historically sensitive liturgical ones. As a Roman Catholic, I LOVE love love that we celebrate the life of Christ with the seasons of the year, and allow ourselves whole seasons to remember what Christ did for us during his ministry on earth. And I appreciate that there are Christians who still live within this rhythm, Lutherans and Anglicans and Orthodox among them.
Next week is the last feast of the Christian liturgical calender: The Feast of Christ the King. And then, over Thanksgiving weekend, I will light the first Advent wreath candle, the candle of prophecy and anticipation. And I am looking forward to celebrating that this year more than the hype of the commercial side of the holiday.
Oh, and you won't see me deck my halls until after the season of anticipation has started, my own way of rebelling against a season of corporate greed which tries to rush one of the most beautiful times of the year.
Waiting can be a most holy cleansing process in and of itself, if we let it. Waiting gives beauty to the gift we are preparing to receive.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Doubt and Certainty and the Quiet of God
October has been quite the month.
I apologize for my silence. While I truly have no excuse in regards to counting my own thoughts, it has indeed been busy around here. My fiance has returned from Iraq and we have been readjusting to one another. As a result, wedding planning in on hold while major issues are questioned and we both rediscover both each other but our relationship in our dually very changed lives.
And simultaneously, for the past month, I have been dealing with Doubt, and by Doubt I mean some deep dark night of the soul kind of doubt about our existence as human beings and a church.
Doubt isn't necessarily a bad thing. As we dig deeper into the profound reality of God, doubts often are a sign of growing faith, rather than a lack of it. When we question, often the very nature of God himself, we become seekers in the fullest sense of word. We struggle for understanding, but as long as we continue to knock on the door of faith by reading, asking, thinking, praying, we are on a path toward deeper understanding of God's depth.
I have been knocking. At first, I didn't realize it. At first, I panicked. I thought, 'oh my, what am I doing here? Is this even real?' only to find myself quietly breaking down my faith to its core......which I am sad to say meant leaving "spiritual activity" behind for a few weeks to meditate with my Christ in the silence of my heart.
Even though our Christian faith is meant to be a very corporal, community based practice, sometimes retreat into the nothing is necessary to maintain our relationship with God. As Americans, it is trend to forget ourselves in the busy noise of our lives, even the spiritual noise of weekly services and prayer groups which are all too often crammed into busy schedules of work, school, kids when we have them. And the result is that we barely have true time for one another much less ourselves and much less our God. Think. How many times have you sat in church listening to the Pastor or Priest's message only to have no real time to meditate on it because you had someplace to be the following hour, perhaps a family potluck or party? How many times has debating specific theological points gotten in the way of God's love? How many times as the noise of life overtaken you?
While God did make the Sabbath for mankind, many of us have little concept of what a true Sabbath truly is. It is rest. It is quiet communion with our maker. Jesus was aware of this need. He retreated often into the wilderness to 'lose' the crowd of followers, sometimes taking only his closest friends with him just so that he can return to his roots and be a better leader. Rest, simply, prevents burn out and the sins which can follow when our bodies and minds become weak to the noise.
I think that's exactly what has been happening to me. Between a part time job and more than full time academic life, my only time with my maker would come from weekly service and weekly small group. Being as the service was contemporary in style, when I seek quiet, it only comes across as noise. While I am not going to reprimand anyone for enjoying a contemporary service, and even enjoy their joyful noise for the Lord on occasion, I was raised enjoying the quiet of a more ancient style of liturgy, one which acknowledges the silence and leaves me in quiet contemplation. Because of my 'busy-ness' quiet contemplation is precisely what my heart has been crying for.
Granted part of this could be a collision of the variation of the faith life of Catholics to your more evangelical sects, as the expected amount of time put into each faith life differs sometimes dramatically. Perhaps it's an issue of the flavor of our relationship with God ---- which is very much an open handed issue and does not make one more or less a Christian. Maybe the only issue is that I am an introvert, who needs God to be my regeneration in my daily life as in my church life.
While I wholly believe we should be in community and that we should be in the word, I don't think the answer is constant 'spiritual activity.' If we aren't careful, we often leave our non-Christian neighbors by the wayside if the only activity we pursue takes place with other Christians. I can remember the many times over the past few years that I have turned my best friend down for the true love of just spending time with her and her husband solely because I had some church activity to go to. I repent of the chances I had to share the gospel with her that I turned down in favor of a service that could have been made up later.
I have also been having to deal with varieties of often opposing theological viewpoints crowding out my quiet times mentally, which is quiet troubling, leading me to question everything down to the goodness of God. So I am going to come clean, now that I have had the time to deal with and battle out my belief and disbelief.
So that is why I am retreating. I am dropping the 'spiritual activity' for a time in order to return to the roots, to return to what called me toward Christ in the first place, to filter out the theological noise to focus on the Good News. And boy, I have been reading. And asking. And knocking. And while part of this looks like going back to Catholic Mass for now, it also includes reading my bible on my own more than I have in a long while. I even have a few friends who have heard my doubts and have nudged me back toward what is important: love --- and my roots --- and to them I am grateful. I will continue to seek and to knock and search for the place God has set aside for me, wherever that is in the here and the now. But I won't know without searching.
In the meantime, I am, however, certain of this:
Christ died for my sins, on the cross, and in his resurrection he defeated the death which results from sin.
Christ died for the WHOLE WORLD, not just me, and his gift was free for me, or anyone else to take or leave, because God left mankind with Free Will and wanted us, all along, to choose him willingly. Because of Christ, we have the option of forgiveness in God's eyes (THIS, people, is the GOOD NEWS). And in pursuing sainthood, which is relationship with Christ and forgiveness of sins, I will be saved from death and have everlasting life with my Father in heaven. I am certain of the Trinity, of the Virgin Birth, and of the dual nature of Christ as both fully man and fully divine.
As a Roman Catholic by birth and choice, I look to the Testament of all the above as evidenced in both the Scriptures and our Traditions. By Traditions I do not just mean rituals and liturgies, I also mean a very rich, ever complex two thousand year history of martyrs, saints and scholars through which I can look to when interpreting the holy scriptures, as well as look to the Holy Spirit which dwells in me and all Christians since the days of Pentecost.
I am also certain of the unchanging Goodness of God.
Of all else, of all the extras in dogma or theology, I may not be certain of, but maybe I don't need to be as long as my foundation is secure. I'll let you know where it takes me.
I apologize for my silence. While I truly have no excuse in regards to counting my own thoughts, it has indeed been busy around here. My fiance has returned from Iraq and we have been readjusting to one another. As a result, wedding planning in on hold while major issues are questioned and we both rediscover both each other but our relationship in our dually very changed lives.
And simultaneously, for the past month, I have been dealing with Doubt, and by Doubt I mean some deep dark night of the soul kind of doubt about our existence as human beings and a church.
Doubt isn't necessarily a bad thing. As we dig deeper into the profound reality of God, doubts often are a sign of growing faith, rather than a lack of it. When we question, often the very nature of God himself, we become seekers in the fullest sense of word. We struggle for understanding, but as long as we continue to knock on the door of faith by reading, asking, thinking, praying, we are on a path toward deeper understanding of God's depth.
I have been knocking. At first, I didn't realize it. At first, I panicked. I thought, 'oh my, what am I doing here? Is this even real?' only to find myself quietly breaking down my faith to its core......which I am sad to say meant leaving "spiritual activity" behind for a few weeks to meditate with my Christ in the silence of my heart.
Even though our Christian faith is meant to be a very corporal, community based practice, sometimes retreat into the nothing is necessary to maintain our relationship with God. As Americans, it is trend to forget ourselves in the busy noise of our lives, even the spiritual noise of weekly services and prayer groups which are all too often crammed into busy schedules of work, school, kids when we have them. And the result is that we barely have true time for one another much less ourselves and much less our God. Think. How many times have you sat in church listening to the Pastor or Priest's message only to have no real time to meditate on it because you had someplace to be the following hour, perhaps a family potluck or party? How many times has debating specific theological points gotten in the way of God's love? How many times as the noise of life overtaken you?
While God did make the Sabbath for mankind, many of us have little concept of what a true Sabbath truly is. It is rest. It is quiet communion with our maker. Jesus was aware of this need. He retreated often into the wilderness to 'lose' the crowd of followers, sometimes taking only his closest friends with him just so that he can return to his roots and be a better leader. Rest, simply, prevents burn out and the sins which can follow when our bodies and minds become weak to the noise.
I think that's exactly what has been happening to me. Between a part time job and more than full time academic life, my only time with my maker would come from weekly service and weekly small group. Being as the service was contemporary in style, when I seek quiet, it only comes across as noise. While I am not going to reprimand anyone for enjoying a contemporary service, and even enjoy their joyful noise for the Lord on occasion, I was raised enjoying the quiet of a more ancient style of liturgy, one which acknowledges the silence and leaves me in quiet contemplation. Because of my 'busy-ness' quiet contemplation is precisely what my heart has been crying for.
Granted part of this could be a collision of the variation of the faith life of Catholics to your more evangelical sects, as the expected amount of time put into each faith life differs sometimes dramatically. Perhaps it's an issue of the flavor of our relationship with God ---- which is very much an open handed issue and does not make one more or less a Christian. Maybe the only issue is that I am an introvert, who needs God to be my regeneration in my daily life as in my church life.
While I wholly believe we should be in community and that we should be in the word, I don't think the answer is constant 'spiritual activity.' If we aren't careful, we often leave our non-Christian neighbors by the wayside if the only activity we pursue takes place with other Christians. I can remember the many times over the past few years that I have turned my best friend down for the true love of just spending time with her and her husband solely because I had some church activity to go to. I repent of the chances I had to share the gospel with her that I turned down in favor of a service that could have been made up later.
I have also been having to deal with varieties of often opposing theological viewpoints crowding out my quiet times mentally, which is quiet troubling, leading me to question everything down to the goodness of God. So I am going to come clean, now that I have had the time to deal with and battle out my belief and disbelief.
So that is why I am retreating. I am dropping the 'spiritual activity' for a time in order to return to the roots, to return to what called me toward Christ in the first place, to filter out the theological noise to focus on the Good News. And boy, I have been reading. And asking. And knocking. And while part of this looks like going back to Catholic Mass for now, it also includes reading my bible on my own more than I have in a long while. I even have a few friends who have heard my doubts and have nudged me back toward what is important: love --- and my roots --- and to them I am grateful. I will continue to seek and to knock and search for the place God has set aside for me, wherever that is in the here and the now. But I won't know without searching.
In the meantime, I am, however, certain of this:
Christ died for my sins, on the cross, and in his resurrection he defeated the death which results from sin.
Christ died for the WHOLE WORLD, not just me, and his gift was free for me, or anyone else to take or leave, because God left mankind with Free Will and wanted us, all along, to choose him willingly. Because of Christ, we have the option of forgiveness in God's eyes (THIS, people, is the GOOD NEWS). And in pursuing sainthood, which is relationship with Christ and forgiveness of sins, I will be saved from death and have everlasting life with my Father in heaven. I am certain of the Trinity, of the Virgin Birth, and of the dual nature of Christ as both fully man and fully divine.
As a Roman Catholic by birth and choice, I look to the Testament of all the above as evidenced in both the Scriptures and our Traditions. By Traditions I do not just mean rituals and liturgies, I also mean a very rich, ever complex two thousand year history of martyrs, saints and scholars through which I can look to when interpreting the holy scriptures, as well as look to the Holy Spirit which dwells in me and all Christians since the days of Pentecost.
I am also certain of the unchanging Goodness of God.
Of all else, of all the extras in dogma or theology, I may not be certain of, but maybe I don't need to be as long as my foundation is secure. I'll let you know where it takes me.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
I love it when I get books in the mail. Of course, these are all books ordered not so much for pleasure as for class projects for Seminar and Gallery Management, not to mention the simple reality of building a personal academic art library.
The Reading I have Before Me:
Divine Representations: Postmodernism and Spirituality by Ann W. Astell
Culture Making: Recovering Our Creative Calling by Andy Crouch
On the Strange Place of Religion in Contemporary Art by James Elkins
The Inward Eye: Transcendence in Contemporary Art edited by Lynn Herbert.
Thought Through My Eyes: Writing on Art, 1977 - 2005 by Klaus Ottmann
The Artist's Reality Philosophies of Art by Mark Rothko
Yup, looks like I have my work cut out for me. Doesn't help that I'm only a month into the semester and that my Gallery Management binder already switched to a two incher for all the handouts.
The Reading I have Before Me:
Divine Representations: Postmodernism and Spirituality by Ann W. Astell
Culture Making: Recovering Our Creative Calling by Andy Crouch
On the Strange Place of Religion in Contemporary Art by James Elkins
The Inward Eye: Transcendence in Contemporary Art edited by Lynn Herbert.
Thought Through My Eyes: Writing on Art, 1977 - 2005 by Klaus Ottmann
The Artist's Reality Philosophies of Art by Mark Rothko
Yup, looks like I have my work cut out for me. Doesn't help that I'm only a month into the semester and that my Gallery Management binder already switched to a two incher for all the handouts.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Sacred Space, Holy Place: Groping Toward a Thesis
What makes a space we enter a sanctuary? What makes it sacred, holy? What exactly is it about certain spaces that resonates with the human spirit so it just knows, truly knows that the place is hallowed?
For the Roman Catholic, entering a Cathedral is began with a specific decorum, continued with ritual movements meant to humble oneself before the central element in the representation of architectural and sculptural framework. Every wall, decoration, pew.....it all means something in telling the greater story of faith and God. And they do so with a specific aesthetic which varies from the aesthetic of the Protestant or the Orthodox Christian denominations, in building layout and in the choice of decoration. And what of commercialized religion, the architecture of the mega-church which is solely an object of function for the masses? What does their building say about their faith? Islamic architecture finds elaborate adornment within the confines of it's own law, and has created a visual calligraphic language of pure decoration that captures the imagination with its unique flavor. And for as much of the world which celebrates life's mysteries with the communion of a large body, so too do people choose their sanctuary as a location meant only for one. For the Neopagan, sanctuary is a wild thing which belongs to the natural forces and is marked off by the imaginary boundaries of an imaginary circle. Buddhist and Hindus take their everyday practice to the everyday sanctuary within the home, often in a room set aside with an alter, upon which sits statuary or a scroll of meditation.
What is worship, exactly? Most associated with songs of praise and shouts of joy, worship can exist in all that we do as humans toward our God, as long as our lips are at the moment of worship filled with divine words and our hearts with divine love and our minds with divine thoughts, and we are making ourselves less so that God may grow within us.. We worship collectively under the umbrella of some sort of religious institute or personally in our own home. The quest for God draws people together. And so does art.
Artists are spiritual beings who are more keenly aware of this fact than perhaps the rest of this. As the nature of religion has changed in the last two hundred years, so too has the role of the artist, who, in a postmodern context has succumbed to the role of a secular prophet in the West, no longer just a craftsman.
Daniell Siedell, whose writing God in the Gallery: A Christian Approach to Modern Art has been an invaluable resource in my study of what it means to be bring the sacred in to the gallery setting perhaps put it perfectly when he explained the changed role of art in the context of religion in a postmodern world of plurality and doubt: According to him, the premodern
understanding of transcendence privileged intellection, self-reflection, and the dislocation of mind from body.....as premodern discourses privileges religious institutions as the framework within which or the foundation upon which transcendence was understood in and through social, cultural, and political practice, modernity increasingly privileged the experience of the arts, particularly the visual arts, as the purest expression of transcendence for the modern world.
But this aesthetic limited itself to the visual arts until now when current movements are slowly breaking the barrier and drawing
closer to religion, as a complex set of practices that produce experience, that constitute belief, rather than merely living shape to preexistent experience and belief. (81)
But is this return to the Spiritual in art an honest groping of mankind or simply the appropriation of the religious symbols to tell a very different story? Can we still come face to face with the same sense of wonder and awe and humility before a painting displayed in an art museum as we do before a sculptural crucifix? And should we even bother?
I can’t remember who called the Christian church the living church, the art galleries the church for the (spiritually) dead, but I believe the statement falls in line with the idea that in a world that was supposed to have gone completely secular by now, the Art Gallery replaces the church as the voice of the human spiritual search. Luckily for us, our society is not truly secular, but it in the middle of an identity crisis somewhere between being people of faith and people of set completely apart from an institution of thought whatsoever. We have lost sight of the Truth in the wake of a thousand screaming voices that all need to be heard, and NOW. For those individuals who have completely stepped away from organized religion, the importance of the Art Gallery raises in importance as the messengers of Spirit to an audience who is groping for some truth at the altar of the unnamed God.
I find it amazing and intriguing there are Churches out there that are also Art Galleries that play with the concept of worship space as art space, such as Gallery SALT Art Space in New York City which does not shy away being an environment where both art and worship do Happen. Then there is the interdenominational Rothko Chapel in Houston Texas, which is more than just a sanctuary for his artwork, you are invited to meditate there, pray there and even get married there if you don't want any pictures. I've read comparisons of the Musee de l'Orangerie, which hangs Monet's famous Water Lilies, with that of a scared space; for the arts anyway. has been described as a Chapel, in mood and feel to his work.
Other artists have explored the concept of Sacred Space in both meditative and mundane ways. Native American artist Whitehawk has an installation called This Sacred Space which explores the definition of sacred space from her unique cultural vantage point, a project meant for healing that appeared in the Tampa Museum of Art and the the Bareiss Gallery in New Mexico. Robert Gober of the Mathew Marks Gallery in New York take a much more avant-garde approach to using a religious language of symbols in his work which marries them with a political and personal message. One large scale installation, which has just recently been purchased by MOMA, integrates the Catholic mass imagery specifically, with a headless crucifix at the center.
Then there's the Jewish Exhibit I mentioned last week.
Each of these displays has a different purpose, in the sens of high art or in the more obvious intention toward worship. In both cases, though, the concept was birthed by an Artist, with an intention toward Truth or his own truth, and the conversations begun by these people is valid regardless of the voice or intent. As Gober’s work acknowledges, sacred can be found in the grossly mundane, even slightly profane if only we look beneath the surface.
Do not confuse me, though. I do not mean that we should Worship Art. But Art has this power to point to echoes of God that words often fail at, and all art, made by a Christian or not, is equally valid in that search for our Creator for that end. Even in our inherent brokenness as people can Grace pour through, as even in the brokenness of postmodern art can grace also be painted and whispered of. Gallery or High Art, though, is a modern version of the Alter to the Unnamed God found in Acts......the worship is there, but Truth has not yet been found.
I find myself increasingly attracted to the liturgical installations of Nancy Chinn, which are of such a quality that to have them hang in the museum setting would be an interesting experiment, considering the temporal and impermanent nature of her work which plays a direct role in the role of Worship.
I have also looked at a series of photographers who have for subject matter the worship spaces of their specific cultures. But the sand Mandala tradition also interests me in its sense of impermanence.
To get back to my opening. What makes a space a sacred space? Is it because us humans say it is so, or because it is marked by divine decoration setting it apart? Or is it the people you see when you are in the space? I want to know what you think. How does one approach a not-a-show toward such an angle?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Having one of those tired morning.....
Bear with me here as I try out a new thing: blogging from my cell phone during my morning commute. I often find that the poetry of word grasps at me when I'm miles away from my computer. But if I can capture them from my present location on the bus, I might have the chance to make my day a tad more productive.
I feel behind with my classwork right now. And short of waking out of this funk and getting the literary juices flowing, I'll probably be behind for a while. Still, I finished one short paper and my Junior level research proposal before hitting the sack last night. I spent a majority of my weekend just rereading and researching for another short paper, which at this point is outlined, but not written and due to the nature of the assignment, I can't BS my way through the short pages.
But that's not my real dilemma.
I have another proposal due next week regarding our chosen topic for a fictional gallery show we will be organizing for my Gallery Management class. We need to prepare the show's thesis, have examples at hand of similar shows, and be ready with a list of at least three artists on our topic. My problem? I can't decide on a bloody topic!
My instructor knows already that my interest in the Visual Arts is in the field of Theological Aesthetics, which I am already taking advantage of in writing my Seminar Research paper on the Spiritual nature of the work of living abstract artist Makoto Fujimura. My original hope in all my upper level classes was to maintain this theme of spirituality and the arts across the board, so that I may fully digest my sources and let myself slowly become an expert on the one topic. BUT spirituality is a difficult thing to define, even in images, and it is the nature of the thing that spirituality can be explored in so many different ways under so many different genres and angles.
One direction that I've brainstormed was to explore the healing nature of art regarding soldiers caught up in the most recent foreign conflicts. It's been a successful concept already at the hands of the makers Sgt. Ron Kelsey's Reflections of Generosity show currently on display at military bases in Europe. Even though it really has the feel of a show by soldiers for soldiers, its message is truly one of finding healing and resotarion through community and the arts.. A big issue with covering Soldier's issues, though, is the ease at which the topic can become political, of which the Reflections of Generosity show avoid doing rather successfully. Some of the Soldiers affiliated with the equally thoughtful and provocative Combat Paper Project use hard directly for healing by making paper directly from their war torn combat uniforms and then making art from it. While their purpose very much is healing, one of their showcase works when they displayed in England, by Jon Orlando takes a very clear political side against the war in Iraq. His work, still is worth a look at the inner struggle of a nasty situation. On the other side of the coin, you have very obvious kitschy pro military propagandist art, which I am equally trying to avoid. I had a discussion with an Airman friend about the possible existence of such a show. He made it clear that he would be insulted, as a servicemen, at an obvious portrayal of what he referred to as 'broken U.S. property,' but should the show be tasteful, it might be worth a look, given it was far from a majority of the civilian public where Soldiers could grieve their own experiences of war in privacy and peace upon viewing. I realize too, that while it is an issue I am passionate about; after all, my fiance is in Iraq; I am not actually a soldier and have no idea what life really is like over there. I just hear about it after, from friends and family. I am just the quiet troop here at home holding down the home front in his absence. A Penelope, not an Odysseus.
My other idea was to much more blatantly deal with the topic of religion, but this too can be difficult without wondering into the realm of kitschy and sentimental. Yet I fully feel as if there is a giant hole in the art world....a world where it is acceptable to seek the higher forces under the postmodern context, but it is apparently controversial to speak from the wholeness of the God's peace. And since this is a project for a project at a public University, I have an even finer line of respect for the postmodern view to walk....
I was thinking of following the idea of Sacred Space....Worship Space. Which easily speaks to the idea of seeking divinity without obviously speaking to religion or a specific religion. Photographer Kenro Izu has a breathtaking series of work just of sacred spaces as defined by Southeast Asia. Thailand 36, a Bodhisattva head caught in the roots of a tree somehow came across especially haunting. And in April in New York City, the show Modern Art, Sacred Space: Motherwell, Ferber and Gottlieb showcased in the Jewish Museum the artwork from a nearby synagogue being renovated. The pictures of the Gallery room looked like a promising example of a direction I could take. Some of my readings also took me to the temporary works of
one little lady Nancy Chinn, who adorns sanctuary spaces with temporary and works meant to celebrate the season. The photographs of her work really are breathtaking.
I casually brought up my two ideas to a colleague who is more interested in a show about Sacred Space that the former option. Not to mention, while both topics have the controversy, a spiritual exploration of What it means to have sacred space is more assessable. Still, if anyone has any thoughts, I am open to suggestions.
I feel behind with my classwork right now. And short of waking out of this funk and getting the literary juices flowing, I'll probably be behind for a while. Still, I finished one short paper and my Junior level research proposal before hitting the sack last night. I spent a majority of my weekend just rereading and researching for another short paper, which at this point is outlined, but not written and due to the nature of the assignment, I can't BS my way through the short pages.
But that's not my real dilemma.
I have another proposal due next week regarding our chosen topic for a fictional gallery show we will be organizing for my Gallery Management class. We need to prepare the show's thesis, have examples at hand of similar shows, and be ready with a list of at least three artists on our topic. My problem? I can't decide on a bloody topic!
My instructor knows already that my interest in the Visual Arts is in the field of Theological Aesthetics, which I am already taking advantage of in writing my Seminar Research paper on the Spiritual nature of the work of living abstract artist Makoto Fujimura. My original hope in all my upper level classes was to maintain this theme of spirituality and the arts across the board, so that I may fully digest my sources and let myself slowly become an expert on the one topic. BUT spirituality is a difficult thing to define, even in images, and it is the nature of the thing that spirituality can be explored in so many different ways under so many different genres and angles.
One direction that I've brainstormed was to explore the healing nature of art regarding soldiers caught up in the most recent foreign conflicts. It's been a successful concept already at the hands of the makers Sgt. Ron Kelsey's Reflections of Generosity show currently on display at military bases in Europe. Even though it really has the feel of a show by soldiers for soldiers, its message is truly one of finding healing and resotarion through community and the arts.. A big issue with covering Soldier's issues, though, is the ease at which the topic can become political, of which the Reflections of Generosity show avoid doing rather successfully. Some of the Soldiers affiliated with the equally thoughtful and provocative Combat Paper Project use hard directly for healing by making paper directly from their war torn combat uniforms and then making art from it. While their purpose very much is healing, one of their showcase works when they displayed in England, by Jon Orlando takes a very clear political side against the war in Iraq. His work, still is worth a look at the inner struggle of a nasty situation. On the other side of the coin, you have very obvious kitschy pro military propagandist art, which I am equally trying to avoid. I had a discussion with an Airman friend about the possible existence of such a show. He made it clear that he would be insulted, as a servicemen, at an obvious portrayal of what he referred to as 'broken U.S. property,' but should the show be tasteful, it might be worth a look, given it was far from a majority of the civilian public where Soldiers could grieve their own experiences of war in privacy and peace upon viewing. I realize too, that while it is an issue I am passionate about; after all, my fiance is in Iraq; I am not actually a soldier and have no idea what life really is like over there. I just hear about it after, from friends and family. I am just the quiet troop here at home holding down the home front in his absence. A Penelope, not an Odysseus.
My other idea was to much more blatantly deal with the topic of religion, but this too can be difficult without wondering into the realm of kitschy and sentimental. Yet I fully feel as if there is a giant hole in the art world....a world where it is acceptable to seek the higher forces under the postmodern context, but it is apparently controversial to speak from the wholeness of the God's peace. And since this is a project for a project at a public University, I have an even finer line of respect for the postmodern view to walk....
I was thinking of following the idea of Sacred Space....Worship Space. Which easily speaks to the idea of seeking divinity without obviously speaking to religion or a specific religion. Photographer Kenro Izu has a breathtaking series of work just of sacred spaces as defined by Southeast Asia. Thailand 36, a Bodhisattva head caught in the roots of a tree somehow came across especially haunting. And in April in New York City, the show Modern Art, Sacred Space: Motherwell, Ferber and Gottlieb showcased in the Jewish Museum the artwork from a nearby synagogue being renovated. The pictures of the Gallery room looked like a promising example of a direction I could take. Some of my readings also took me to the temporary works of
one little lady Nancy Chinn, who adorns sanctuary spaces with temporary and works meant to celebrate the season. The photographs of her work really are breathtaking.
I casually brought up my two ideas to a colleague who is more interested in a show about Sacred Space that the former option. Not to mention, while both topics have the controversy, a spiritual exploration of What it means to have sacred space is more assessable. Still, if anyone has any thoughts, I am open to suggestions.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Writing of Portaits in a Pub Portrait Gallery
Dressel's is by far my most favorite pub in Saint Louis. And that's a close call, considering my love of Tigin's.
Here I am, trying to focus on a paper: a comparative analysis of John Singlton Copley's two portraits of Eunice and Thaddius Burr which hang in the Portrait Gallery of the Saint Louis Art Museum with that of the Freake portraits painted nearly a century earlier. And I'm sitting in a Welsh pub in the Central West End, filled, to the interior brim, with portraits; drawing and prints of faces artistically rendered in graphite and charcoal and ink on the white page. Around the central U-shaped bar, the upper shelf if lined with its own set of sculpture busts of famous thinker. This is a thinking man's pub, for the thinking man (or woman) who appreciates such artistic renderin, Strongbow apple cider, and traditional welsh fare. My favorite: the Goat Cheese Menagerie, served with shallots, garlic, peppers, and green, meant to be spread on toast.....but there is Shepard's Pie and a daily stew special here daily too. The food is rich and succulent and it is as capable to get drunk off of it as it is the amazing beer.
I feel enlightened here. I feel smart here. And I feel tapped into my favorite subject matter as an artist as well: the Portrait.
***btw, Should you ever partake of the amazing Goat cheese appetizer, make sure you place yourself very firmly away from human contact for the next 12 hours, as a meal made of goat cheese, garlic and shallots is sure to raise quite a stink.
Here I am, trying to focus on a paper: a comparative analysis of John Singlton Copley's two portraits of Eunice and Thaddius Burr which hang in the Portrait Gallery of the Saint Louis Art Museum with that of the Freake portraits painted nearly a century earlier. And I'm sitting in a Welsh pub in the Central West End, filled, to the interior brim, with portraits; drawing and prints of faces artistically rendered in graphite and charcoal and ink on the white page. Around the central U-shaped bar, the upper shelf if lined with its own set of sculpture busts of famous thinker. This is a thinking man's pub, for the thinking man (or woman) who appreciates such artistic renderin, Strongbow apple cider, and traditional welsh fare. My favorite: the Goat Cheese Menagerie, served with shallots, garlic, peppers, and green, meant to be spread on toast.....but there is Shepard's Pie and a daily stew special here daily too. The food is rich and succulent and it is as capable to get drunk off of it as it is the amazing beer.
I feel enlightened here. I feel smart here. And I feel tapped into my favorite subject matter as an artist as well: the Portrait.
***btw, Should you ever partake of the amazing Goat cheese appetizer, make sure you place yourself very firmly away from human contact for the next 12 hours, as a meal made of goat cheese, garlic and shallots is sure to raise quite a stink.
Integrity, Faith, Scholarship, Chairs and the Art of Lecture Crashing
It's been an intellectually exciting couple of days. Frustrating in its own ways, between an adventure stranded in Forest Park on an evening buses inside the park were canceled for another event and getting buried under Senior Class Project Homework.
For those of you who don't know me, I'm on what I hope to be my very last school year as an undergraduate student, the degree finally being a BA in Art History. It's been a long road from freshman Graphic Design and Drawing Studio student at even another institute. I'm finally making the much needed leap from someone who struggled with grandiose abstract ideas to actually finding a concrete version of my message and putting it to the pen of scholasticism. Can I make the leap? *gulp*
My thesis idea rolls concepts of Spirituality and Religion, especially as pertaining to my Christian faith, with my passion for the Arts and Art History. A year ago, I had little awareness of other contemporary work under this combined umbrella, save for the rich tradition of Roman Catholic Art during the Renaissance. Who nowadays actually explores their Christian Faith in the context of art without getting tacky and kitsch or limiting themselves solely to a single sub-culture to the exclusion of those who could actually learn from them? But at the same time and on the other end of the spectrum, how do we actually gain the courage enough to begin to tell the story of faith in a depressed anti-religious (yet still spiritual) art world?
It's a thin line.
Theological Aesthetics seems a recently begun conversation, but luckily there are resources in the area, and books, after several searched on Amazon.com, I found out, do exist in the field and authors have indeed attempted to engage our postmodern culture with the hope it has so recently been lacking. And some have even maintained a quiet integrity while doing so. For a world which has been in the past not afraid of its Christian past, suddenly the fact that I have chosen this as my field of study in my last year at a public University has made me So, how does one push forward in the topic in an acceptable way at this kind of environment. Do I paint a solely Christian message then get in trouble later on for "closed mindedness" as I am sure I may someday be accused, or do I engage the whole of the human desire for spirit through the voice of all religions and hope someone catches an under laying glimpse of my own Christian sense of Hope? How do I embark and keep my integrity as a scholar-in-training in a postmodern American landscape that doesn't want to be told how to act and whom to worship, God-forbid?
Just some thoughts. Really.
I used to get frustrated for a specific local art gallery for not being upfront with its own Christian link, and hesitancy to deal with the Gospel directly in art, and yet, there they were, finding subtle ways to speak of the message of seeking God. Working in the secular gallery setting, then, when we know the audience wants nothing of God. I can think of a handful of artists who have successfully broken into the secular world and maintained their integrity as both Christians and Modern Artists, a fact which I am in total awe of.....they answered these problems for themselves.
Yesterday.
Wow.
After a very full morning, I partook in my weekly Friday evening trip to the Saint Louis Art Museum......well, what I hope to be a regular weekly Friday evening trip to the museum.
My boss, the Director of Gallery 210 gave quite the delightful talk in the history of modern manufacturing design in relation to the Museum's collection of chair, which sit not far from the mummies in the basement level. Honestly, so many times I have walked past those chairs, partaking in the laughter of my friends who little understood their significance in the time line of art, wondering why the heck would a CHAIR be considered art? Well, they are significant after all, in the realm of how to approach new technologies and materials in present societies, how to break the traditions of the time. And something as simply and quintessential as a chair, and elaborate elevated board in which to place your bottom, has provided an evolution from and back from and toward elaborate decoration or simply utility, or as we see the result thereof in the Target franchise, how to elevate life by making utility and usefulness assessable to amazing design. More amazing, the technology used in the Museum's most recent acquisitions is also used in making prosthetic limbs for veterans of the most recent wars who have sacrificed their own body for the military cause. It's an amazing connection of aerospace and digital engineering with art, and well worth the second glance.
Granted, the experience also led to some decent insights about the nature of any future in Grad school. Getting enough sleep translates into not working hard enough, or so the saying goes? What's a girl with sensitive sleep patterns to do in light of that insight?
Well, the whole point of my excursion, besides listening to Terry speak about that class of his I was curious about but never took, was to work on a paper involving two of the John Singelton Copley's hanging in the Portrait Gallery. Fat Chance of that after my curiosity took over. I wound up following what I thought was just another Gallery talk on account of not actually knowing that much about the art of the Enlightenment and Romanticism periods of Art History, but it was delightfully not what met the ear at first, when the lecturer boldly announced and discussed his own Christian faith. He raised some very important questions, and in his play out of modern history managed to put the utter despair postmodernism into its historical perspective as the result of hundreds of years of doubt in the the European, and also American, heart and mind. I'm sure I will be thinking of, dwelling on and considering his points for months, if not years to come! I am in luck to have found out later on, that I do indeed have a contact with this fascinating speaker via facebook and some good friends who I miss dearly but have touched me much.
I'm still in the middle of a contact high off of life. I am more motivated toward scholarship and study in my chosen topic in hope of making at least some kind of impact, and I understand the balance of walking the thin line between secular and sacred even moreso now than before Friday night.
Optimistically, for once, I look forward with hope.
For those of you who don't know me, I'm on what I hope to be my very last school year as an undergraduate student, the degree finally being a BA in Art History. It's been a long road from freshman Graphic Design and Drawing Studio student at even another institute. I'm finally making the much needed leap from someone who struggled with grandiose abstract ideas to actually finding a concrete version of my message and putting it to the pen of scholasticism. Can I make the leap? *gulp*
My thesis idea rolls concepts of Spirituality and Religion, especially as pertaining to my Christian faith, with my passion for the Arts and Art History. A year ago, I had little awareness of other contemporary work under this combined umbrella, save for the rich tradition of Roman Catholic Art during the Renaissance. Who nowadays actually explores their Christian Faith in the context of art without getting tacky and kitsch or limiting themselves solely to a single sub-culture to the exclusion of those who could actually learn from them? But at the same time and on the other end of the spectrum, how do we actually gain the courage enough to begin to tell the story of faith in a depressed anti-religious (yet still spiritual) art world?
It's a thin line.
Theological Aesthetics seems a recently begun conversation, but luckily there are resources in the area, and books, after several searched on Amazon.com, I found out, do exist in the field and authors have indeed attempted to engage our postmodern culture with the hope it has so recently been lacking. And some have even maintained a quiet integrity while doing so. For a world which has been in the past not afraid of its Christian past, suddenly the fact that I have chosen this as my field of study in my last year at a public University has made me So, how does one push forward in the topic in an acceptable way at this kind of environment. Do I paint a solely Christian message then get in trouble later on for "closed mindedness" as I am sure I may someday be accused, or do I engage the whole of the human desire for spirit through the voice of all religions and hope someone catches an under laying glimpse of my own Christian sense of Hope? How do I embark and keep my integrity as a scholar-in-training in a postmodern American landscape that doesn't want to be told how to act and whom to worship, God-forbid?
Just some thoughts. Really.
I used to get frustrated for a specific local art gallery for not being upfront with its own Christian link, and hesitancy to deal with the Gospel directly in art, and yet, there they were, finding subtle ways to speak of the message of seeking God. Working in the secular gallery setting, then, when we know the audience wants nothing of God. I can think of a handful of artists who have successfully broken into the secular world and maintained their integrity as both Christians and Modern Artists, a fact which I am in total awe of.....they answered these problems for themselves.
Yesterday.
Wow.
After a very full morning, I partook in my weekly Friday evening trip to the Saint Louis Art Museum......well, what I hope to be a regular weekly Friday evening trip to the museum.
My boss, the Director of Gallery 210 gave quite the delightful talk in the history of modern manufacturing design in relation to the Museum's collection of chair, which sit not far from the mummies in the basement level. Honestly, so many times I have walked past those chairs, partaking in the laughter of my friends who little understood their significance in the time line of art, wondering why the heck would a CHAIR be considered art? Well, they are significant after all, in the realm of how to approach new technologies and materials in present societies, how to break the traditions of the time. And something as simply and quintessential as a chair, and elaborate elevated board in which to place your bottom, has provided an evolution from and back from and toward elaborate decoration or simply utility, or as we see the result thereof in the Target franchise, how to elevate life by making utility and usefulness assessable to amazing design. More amazing, the technology used in the Museum's most recent acquisitions is also used in making prosthetic limbs for veterans of the most recent wars who have sacrificed their own body for the military cause. It's an amazing connection of aerospace and digital engineering with art, and well worth the second glance.
Granted, the experience also led to some decent insights about the nature of any future in Grad school. Getting enough sleep translates into not working hard enough, or so the saying goes? What's a girl with sensitive sleep patterns to do in light of that insight?
Well, the whole point of my excursion, besides listening to Terry speak about that class of his I was curious about but never took, was to work on a paper involving two of the John Singelton Copley's hanging in the Portrait Gallery. Fat Chance of that after my curiosity took over. I wound up following what I thought was just another Gallery talk on account of not actually knowing that much about the art of the Enlightenment and Romanticism periods of Art History, but it was delightfully not what met the ear at first, when the lecturer boldly announced and discussed his own Christian faith. He raised some very important questions, and in his play out of modern history managed to put the utter despair postmodernism into its historical perspective as the result of hundreds of years of doubt in the the European, and also American, heart and mind. I'm sure I will be thinking of, dwelling on and considering his points for months, if not years to come! I am in luck to have found out later on, that I do indeed have a contact with this fascinating speaker via facebook and some good friends who I miss dearly but have touched me much.
I'm still in the middle of a contact high off of life. I am more motivated toward scholarship and study in my chosen topic in hope of making at least some kind of impact, and I understand the balance of walking the thin line between secular and sacred even moreso now than before Friday night.
Optimistically, for once, I look forward with hope.
What I'm reading.....
Just a list of my working Bibliography for various Senior Projects dealing with the topic of Spirituality and Art today. Not a comprehensive list by any means.
God in the Gallery: A Christian Embrace of Modern Art by Daniel A. Siedell
Refractions: A Journey of Faith, Art, and Culture by Makoto Fujimura
Art for God's Sake: A Call to Recover the Arts by Phillip Graham Ryken
For the Beauty of the Church: Creating a Vision for the Arts edited by David Taylor
Theological Aesthetics, A Reader edited by Gesa Elsbeth Thiessan
It Was Good: Making Art to the Glory of God edited by Ned Bustard
The Philosophy of Art: Readings Ancient and Modern edited by Alex Neill Aaron Ridley
God in the Gallery: A Christian Embrace of Modern Art by Daniel A. Siedell
Refractions: A Journey of Faith, Art, and Culture by Makoto Fujimura
Art for God's Sake: A Call to Recover the Arts by Phillip Graham Ryken
For the Beauty of the Church: Creating a Vision for the Arts edited by David Taylor
Theological Aesthetics, A Reader edited by Gesa Elsbeth Thiessan
It Was Good: Making Art to the Glory of God edited by Ned Bustard
The Philosophy of Art: Readings Ancient and Modern edited by Alex Neill Aaron Ridley
Friday, September 10, 2010
September 11
In honor of tomorrow's Yellow Ribbon event with William's unit and in memory of September 11, I give you me and my handsome man in his uniform. It's kind of funny. When I stand next to him donned in digital pattern and combat boots, I can't but be humbled for the extreme sacrifice he is making for us, for our nation, all so that I don't have to do the same, all so that I have the freedom to go to school and learn to be an art historian. It's when I stand next to this man, that I am proud of my American Heritage, of the battle my forefathers fought, and most of all, pride for this loved one of mine and all of my loved ones who have, who are, and who will be serving for the United States military. I am proud of my country, and no act of terrorism, foreign or domestic, will keep me from that pride. In memory of all the lives lost, you did not lose them in vain. We will always remember YOUR SACRIFICE. We will always remember this day when our world was forever changed.
Everyday Immram
When I originally started this blog, as you can tell in the reading, I was setting out to make it kind of a wedding website, to prepare for my June 24th wedding to one very special guy. The wedding is still happening, of course, but I think I'll just use an already prepared wedding website template due to my severe lack of html code knowledge.....making this little piece of blog-space my personal work of contemplation. I'm basing the overall idea of it off of my old livejournal, which still exists for those who dare find it and for my own reasons of keeping around a good five years of my life in text. Don't worry, it's mostly all locked up. I've more than a few thoughts on the whole ordeal anyway, meditations if you were, on this transition that I'll be embarking on from single college gal to married woman and military wife; not to mention contemplations into a certain someone's homecoming from a deployment overseas. So, where does one put their thoughts when they are just bubbling to come out? Well, as I've blogged since the year 2000, off and on for a decade now, the blog format only makes sense, as print can often declare what images cannot (and vice versa).
So what exactly is an Immram anyway?
Anyone who comes to know me will eventually pick up on my love of Celtic Legend and Myth, and my easy identification and admiration of the Christian Church as it was first brought to and adapted culturally by the Celts of the now British and Irish Isles. These people's learned to tell the powerful Christ-Tale in their own words, in their own language for quite some time, defining Heaven as the Tir na nOg (their land of youth), and more famously, Saint Patrick's identification and metaphorical use of explaining the Holy Trinity through a clover.It would be the Christians who brought writing to these people, through their love of the Gospel and the Gospel arts, and then these peoples which brought Gospel writing into an art form unique to their place and time. Just look at The Book of Kells and The Lindisfarne Gospels to see just how far little monks for centuries made the writing of those Holy Books an art.
Many Celtic deities were rewritten and re-imagined to tell the Christ-story, including the tale of The Voyage of Saint Brendon who takes a sea-faring pilgrimage. The story uses the storytelling format called the Immram, or 'tale on a boat,' often to an other world of paradise or including a 'vision'. Interestingly, even though this storytelling format was used to preserve Irish mythology, more often than not they contain Christian teachings. The tale of Saint Brendon's Voyage, for example, detailing one man's journey of unbelief of Truth toward true belief of the Truth because of his journey, which often starts because of an Angel. This sailor has been considered a patron saint of sailors, has been compared to the stories Sinbad and Odysseus in the style of tale, and is thought to be the ancient inspiration for C.S. Lewis' Voyage of the Dawn Treader from his ever famous Chronicles of Narnia. While I can't tell you how true these comparisons are, I would not be the least bit surprised at Lewis, a student of mythology, if he did reach back to St. Brendon's Voyage as healthy inspiration for his children's tales.
I am a creature who takes everyday kinds of journeys. As an artist, I tend to reach into my own heavily symbolic subconsciousness in contemplative prayer for the answer as to what shall wind up on the paper to be drawn, or even as my way of listening to God, my own creator. And the language of ancient symbols connects with me, somehow, as it may have with Lewis. I process very often by writing, even if I never intend to share that writing, it's how I put idea into brain, message into heart. It's my favored medium for exploring those ideas which bubble beneath the surface during this, my own life's journey. But unlike Saint Brendon, my journey doesn't need to travel to new exotic islands to be relevant in trying to catch my own glimpses of Christ. It takes place here at home, in my own city, in my own everyday kind of life. You are still welcome to join me, should you desire that. I know I'd love the company.
So what exactly is an Immram anyway?
Anyone who comes to know me will eventually pick up on my love of Celtic Legend and Myth, and my easy identification and admiration of the Christian Church as it was first brought to and adapted culturally by the Celts of the now British and Irish Isles. These people's learned to tell the powerful Christ-Tale in their own words, in their own language for quite some time, defining Heaven as the Tir na nOg (their land of youth), and more famously, Saint Patrick's identification and metaphorical use of explaining the Holy Trinity through a clover.It would be the Christians who brought writing to these people, through their love of the Gospel and the Gospel arts, and then these peoples which brought Gospel writing into an art form unique to their place and time. Just look at The Book of Kells and The Lindisfarne Gospels to see just how far little monks for centuries made the writing of those Holy Books an art.
Many Celtic deities were rewritten and re-imagined to tell the Christ-story, including the tale of The Voyage of Saint Brendon who takes a sea-faring pilgrimage. The story uses the storytelling format called the Immram, or 'tale on a boat,' often to an other world of paradise or including a 'vision'. Interestingly, even though this storytelling format was used to preserve Irish mythology, more often than not they contain Christian teachings. The tale of Saint Brendon's Voyage, for example, detailing one man's journey of unbelief of Truth toward true belief of the Truth because of his journey, which often starts because of an Angel. This sailor has been considered a patron saint of sailors, has been compared to the stories Sinbad and Odysseus in the style of tale, and is thought to be the ancient inspiration for C.S. Lewis' Voyage of the Dawn Treader from his ever famous Chronicles of Narnia. While I can't tell you how true these comparisons are, I would not be the least bit surprised at Lewis, a student of mythology, if he did reach back to St. Brendon's Voyage as healthy inspiration for his children's tales.
I am a creature who takes everyday kinds of journeys. As an artist, I tend to reach into my own heavily symbolic subconsciousness in contemplative prayer for the answer as to what shall wind up on the paper to be drawn, or even as my way of listening to God, my own creator. And the language of ancient symbols connects with me, somehow, as it may have with Lewis. I process very often by writing, even if I never intend to share that writing, it's how I put idea into brain, message into heart. It's my favored medium for exploring those ideas which bubble beneath the surface during this, my own life's journey. But unlike Saint Brendon, my journey doesn't need to travel to new exotic islands to be relevant in trying to catch my own glimpses of Christ. It takes place here at home, in my own city, in my own everyday kind of life. You are still welcome to join me, should you desire that. I know I'd love the company.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Our Story: Our Song
It is our sincere hope that we will be able to share this very special song with all of you on our wedding day, although for the depth of it's content, and the tears that usually result, we decided to make our first dance a much happier tune. Still, hopefully our good friend Paul Kruta will still be in our lives to sing it for you:
Grace by O'Meara (A traditional irish song)
Grace by O'Meara (A traditional irish song)
As we gather in the chapel here in old Kilmainham Jail
I think about these past few weeks, oh will they say we've failed?
From our school days they have told us we must yearn for liberty
Yet all I want in this dark place is to have you here with me
I think about these past few weeks, oh will they say we've failed?
From our school days they have told us we must yearn for liberty
Yet all I want in this dark place is to have you here with me
Oh Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye
Now I know it's hard for you my love to ever understand
The love I bare for these brave men, the love for my dear land
But when Pádraic called me to his side down in the GPO
I had to leave my own sick bed, to him I had to go
The love I bare for these brave men, the love for my dear land
But when Pádraic called me to his side down in the GPO
I had to leave my own sick bed, to him I had to go
Now as the dawn is breaking, my heart is breaking too
On this May morn as I walk out, my thoughts will be of you
And I'll write some words upon the wall so everyone will know
I loved so much that I could see his blood upon the rose.
On this May morn as I walk out, my thoughts will be of you
And I'll write some words upon the wall so everyone will know
I loved so much that I could see his blood upon the rose.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Our Story: The Proposal
We entered this thing knowing that the pursuit of marriage was in our hearts, with just the hope that we had found that right person. It was always a topic of conversation as we discovered the persons behind the smiles, kisses, and hugs, and the beauty of our deepest beings in rain or in shine.
At our early Spring one year anniversary of dating, it is safe to know that William knew, and so that year he gave me the promise of something great to come if I only would have the patience for it, which he sealed with a Claddagh promise ring over a romantic dinner at The Scottish Arms bar and restaurant. But this was only a promise, so I waited, not so patiently for our next year's anniversary-of-dating, because as much as I might try at it, I'm not that patient. Well, that next year, no ring came just yet. Instead, he gave me the word: Let's Go to Ireland!
Those were not the words I was expecting, honestly. But little did I know, it was all part of a grander scheme.
Only months prior, William received the news that his unit was indeed mobilizing for deployment overseas at President Obama's orders. It was heart breaking, but we were given the time to prepare, mentally and emotionally for the stress to come. There was one major concern on William's mind, though: the fact that unless something was done quickly, this deployment would be his first trip out of the country. ever. Which of course, coincided with the amorphous unknowing of what the future would hold for us.
It was an amazing trip. There are few places in the world so green and so friendly toward Americans, and everywhere we went we were able to make fast friends. Since this was a true vacation from the chaos of life, we simply rented a car (which William was able to master driving on the left side of the road with!) and we drove to where our hearts guided us. My only requirement was to see the ever famous ancient Illuminated Manuscript: The Book of Kells, which was on display at Trinity College in Dublin. Yet, we also visited the Guinness Stockhouse, Saint Brigid's Cathedral in Kildare, The Rock of Cashel in the middle-of-nowhere, the Jameson Distillery in Middleton, the town of Cobh (formally Queenstown, formally Cove), we skipped Blarney....the world's most unhygienic tourist attraction in favor of heading to a little place which has been described by a close friend as 'heaven-on-earth': the Dingle Peninsula, where we explored ancient Christian ruins and swam in a freezing cold Atlantic Ocean. At each place we visited, the hosts at our bed n breakfasts also introduced us to the marvelously interesting local fare, which was the hearty start our days required.
"So, what did you wish for back at Kildare?"
However, I wasn't going to tell anyone what I wished for, so responded to his question with a rather snarky "none of your business....," which ruined his line just a bit.
William kept leading me, then, to sit down, relax a bit, at a stone bench behind us. Something was up. He was nervous. To calm him I let him know that I wished for simple, "happiness in all things." Then it came. He bent down on one knee. And ever so formerly.....asked me "Kathryn Jaklitsch......I would like to make all your wishes come true for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?"
I nearly choked. With surprise. With Joy. So stuck I was that I had trouble even talking, all I wanted to do was just cry tears of joy. Instead, I looked at him, probably like a dear in headlights as he waited for over a minute for my answer, which was not a yes, but a choking "OF COURSE!"
Then he slipped the diamond ring on my finger, a classically simply solitaire that sparkles like your wouldn't believe, and we rushed on in our rented Nissan Micra to the Castle for the night. On account of some extremely windblown hair, we missed dinner, but wound up toasting our engagement in the cocktail lounge with a beautiful couple celebrating their 30th Wedding Anniversary that very night. We have the 'Fields of Athenry' to blame for that bonding experience, actually.
After the flight home, which included an adventure stuck in the JFK airport, we broke the news to my parents over dinner, which considering my Dad was an experience in nerves. We also decided a longer engagement was better in lieu of the deployment.....to allow us time to do this right, with both our families behind us, setting us at a two year engagement in the end.
Now we look forward to a special day, coming soon.
Oh, and only in Ireland, can you see THIS on the side of the road: 800 year old castle.....FOR SALE.
Frequently Asked Questions: Religion
On Friday, June 24th William and I will be celebrating the end of a beautiful courtship and the beginning of our lives together joined as one. The ceremony will be a Marriage Rite with Liturgy of the Word at St. James the Greater Roman Catholic Church in Saint Louis. Our faiths play an important role in both our lives, but we come from two very different back grounds, so this page is here to help all of you: our friends and family who will be sharing the day with us.What is the importance of having your ceremony at Saint James the Greater Catholic Church?
Saint Louis city is a city blessed with a rather large Catholic community thanks to some very strong historic roots. Because of this, there was a variety of some amazing churches and parishes of which to choose from, and I highly encourage all of our guests to visit some of them (Especially the Old Saint Louis Cathedral by The Arch, Saint Louis University's St. Francis Xavier on Grand Ave., and the New Cathedral Basilica on Maryland Ave.). We chose St. James the Greater for it's simple beauty, it's history, and for the amazing community there which has been allowing us to grow as people. It is also at the heart of the 'Dogtown' neighborhood, a neighborhood that William's family called home less than a generation ago and has layed down some pretty significant roots in. It is also the parish which sponsors our city's annual community St. Patrick's day parade and festivities, thanks to it's own history as an irish-immigrant neighborhood. Today, it is a modest home to several police and fire-fighting families.
Why are you two having a Catholic Ceremony? I thought William was Lutheran?
Kathryn comes from a fairly devout Roman Catholic family who has made the wish that her marriage to William be recognized by the Roman Catholic Church. And honestly? Who wouldn't want to get married in some of these amazing beautiful churches anyway?
Our intention, however, is that both of our backgrounds be honored on this very special and sacramental day. William grew up an active member of the Evangelical Lutheran Churches of America, and has an equal love of his church as Kathryn does. Because of this, we hope that there will also be a Lutheran presence in attendance to pray with us and bless our marriage.
Is William Converting to Catholism?The answer to this is No. William will not be converting to Catholicism, nor is Kathryn going to make him, Ever. (Unless that is something he chooses)
While Religion is important to both of us, it is also important that we each maintain the religious identity that we each grew up with, and acknowledge our personal roots. Luckily, our chosen denominations share so many beautiful and similar beliefs and rituals, which we hope to emphasize and one day share respectfully with any future children.
We both believe that the heart of our Faith is Christ, who was born of the Virgin Mary, then suffered for our sins, died, and was buried before rising from the dead on the Third day. Beyond that, the details of our religious beliefs are unimportant compared to the miracle of Christ's Extreme Love for his people.
Is there going to be a full Nuptial Mass?
No. Because only one of us is Roman Catholic, the Nuptial Mass is not allowed. Also, because less than half of our guests are of Roman Catholic background, the Celebration of the Eucharist would become a dividing element to our day rather than one which celebrates the unity of two families coming together in Love. You can expect, however, us to ask everyone to hold hands during the prayer to Our Father.
Our Story: About Us
Kathryn is a military brat and city girl who landed in Saint Louis by accident after living in seven different states (thanks to the Air Force). She is currently busy pursuing a BA in Art History with a minor in Business at the University of Missouri Saint Louis, all with the hope of breaking into the world of Art. In 2006, she earned her Associate of Fine Arts in Studio Arts at Southwestern Illinois College, and has yet to decide whether post graduate schooling will include an MFA in drawing or a Secondary Art Teaching Certificate. Kathryn spends much of her spare time in museums, galleries, or coffee shops, and sometimes drawing with a local Painting and Drawing Meetup community. She loves her java in the morning, but due to her years as a Starbucks barista, can be quite picky about her daily cup.
William is currently a Specialist in the Army Reserve, deployed overseas as a lightwheel vehicle mechanic for a local Saint Louis unit. Except for a few years growing up in Alabama, he is a quintessential Saint Louis native with firm roots in Mississippi soil. When he gets home he hopes to pursue a career in Architecture, luckily leaning toward an interest in historical renovations. When he is home, William loves hanging out with his friends and being a big nerd at heart. Every few weekends he can be seen participating in Living History with his dad as a Civil War reenact-or. He also has a passion for his beer. Because our city and state has been blessed with so many amazing microbreweries, William is able to indulge in conneusieur tastes when it comes to his 'liquid-bread.'Both share a love of good food and of celtic music.....afterall, it's part of the story of how they fell in love.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Music and the Reception
The reality is that no good wedding reception is complete without a playlist of the bride and groom's favorite music, with the added combination of the lovable wacky dances that everyone gets on the dance floor for. I knew early in this wedding planning stage that I didn't want your usual tacky wedding fair. Nope, no YMCA or electric slide or country music slow dances for this girl. I want something classy, something reminiscent of a glamorous time ages past, that gets even the couple's dances MOVING, twirling and dipping and swirling.
The thought process started just a week after the two of us got home from the amazing wedding proposal trip. See, OUR song is one of those ballads that generally results in few dry eyes left in the house. While perfect for our kind of love, not exactly first dance material for a couple that longs to bust-a-move on the dance floor the minute we're announced as a married couple. I did find another dance song by accident, however, while at work actually. My cafe, however, is a place that has always had a good assortment of music fed through the speakers. Well, frankly, Sinatra saved the moment, and the rest of the story has been my own blooming love affair with some tunes danced my grandparents in old military Officer's Clubs long before i was born.
I think the music had been pulling at my heart longer than that, however.
When I think back to the most fun I ever had on a date, I remember the evening William and I headed out to Jefferson Barracks for the annual World War II reenactment, which was topped off with an inexpensive dinner and era dancing coming from the hired (REAL) Big Band. Eventually I was pulled to the dance floor, where William twirled me and dipped me and bobbed me to the sound of music we both enjoyed. So what if we made up our own steps, we faked it until we made it, and no one was the wiser.....and it was the most fun we had on a dance floor, next to couples in era costume and old lovers who were in alive when these tunes were new.
My interest is always perked when my generation recreates their version of the nostalgic sound, of course.
I'm even writing this after buying a CD of Peggy Lee tunes. I guess you guys can look forward to a night of Frank and Ella and Benny too, Cab Calloway, Billie Holliday, the Andrews sisters, you name it.
Grandma AJ and Grandpa Jim, this song's for you......looking down at us from heaven......
The thought process started just a week after the two of us got home from the amazing wedding proposal trip. See, OUR song is one of those ballads that generally results in few dry eyes left in the house. While perfect for our kind of love, not exactly first dance material for a couple that longs to bust-a-move on the dance floor the minute we're announced as a married couple. I did find another dance song by accident, however, while at work actually. My cafe, however, is a place that has always had a good assortment of music fed through the speakers. Well, frankly, Sinatra saved the moment, and the rest of the story has been my own blooming love affair with some tunes danced my grandparents in old military Officer's Clubs long before i was born.
I think the music had been pulling at my heart longer than that, however.
When I think back to the most fun I ever had on a date, I remember the evening William and I headed out to Jefferson Barracks for the annual World War II reenactment, which was topped off with an inexpensive dinner and era dancing coming from the hired (REAL) Big Band. Eventually I was pulled to the dance floor, where William twirled me and dipped me and bobbed me to the sound of music we both enjoyed. So what if we made up our own steps, we faked it until we made it, and no one was the wiser.....and it was the most fun we had on a dance floor, next to couples in era costume and old lovers who were in alive when these tunes were new.
My interest is always perked when my generation recreates their version of the nostalgic sound, of course.
I'm even writing this after buying a CD of Peggy Lee tunes. I guess you guys can look forward to a night of Frank and Ella and Benny too, Cab Calloway, Billie Holliday, the Andrews sisters, you name it.
Grandma AJ and Grandpa Jim, this song's for you......looking down at us from heaven......
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Our Story: How we Met
2006 was one of those years that was full of surprises. That summer I had graduated with my Associate of Fine Arts from the local community college by my parents' house, and I had picked up part time work in Saint Louis' historic Union Station as a Barista (aka, Coffee Shop Girl) at one of the local shops. However, most importantly, that was the year I met William.An acquaintance of mine invited me to join him at an Anglican, but rather ecumenical, weekly Potluck Dinner and Bible Study. It was a place of good people, good food, and most of all good conversation. To this day, some of the people from that little group are among my best friends. I fell into the little community as the token Roman Catholic. Oddly enough, the group also included a token Lutheran among its ranks as a guest of one the group's other members, a certain special guy that I would much later finally start some interesting conversation with. It wasn't until the following Spring, however, in 2007, that conversation between the two of us reached a comfortable level, thanks to a weekly gathering at a local Pub where all of us would socialize and discuss theology over great beer.
Finally, in part because of a few local rock n' roll shows, and eventually an outing involving Irish Rebel Music and Guinness, William and I both worked up the nerve to admit we had been eying one another this entire time, which resulted in an eventual date.......and many more regular gathering involving Irish Rebel Music.
We started dating that Spring. And only a few months into things, William nervously got down on one knee, sang me a marvelous song about a soldier who fell in love and then was whisked off to war, and told me that he loved me. That was also the night we first hear "OUR" song, another traditional song entitled "GRACE," about the heartbreaking story of Joseph Mary Plunkett and Grace Gifford. Plunkett was executed the morning after their wedding day in 1916 due to his role in the Irish Uprising against the British. The music, sadly, was all too fitting. Only months before that night, William had signed his contract with the United States Army and would be on his way to Basic Combat Training for the summer and fall months. We only had a few short months to be together before our relationship would become long-distance and by letter only. Luckily, we made sure that I did in fact meet his family, and he met mine in that short time.
Trust me, I looked forward to those letters, which arrived every week and kept me focused during the summer session. After, His best friend and I drove down to Fort Jackson, North Carolina to Congratulate him and wish him well. I still have a box with each handwrriten numbered note, to remind myself to keep the art of letter writing somewhat alive.
Luckily, William was home from his Advanced training by December, and in time for our first Christmas as a couple, and the rest....well, is history!
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