My iPod suffers from multiple personality disorder. You would be as likely to queue up traditional Irish or Country, Pop Latino or Classical, and many other surprises in between. I have always had a particular fondness for unaccompanied vocals - whether Sacred, Barbershop, or pop. I downloaded a recording the other evening that did not disappoint. It is the Missa Cuiusvis Toni (a IV) performed by a group called Capella Alamire. While I do love the beautiful music of the Baroque period and its stunning orchestration (Bach in particular, of course) there is absolutely nothing like Renaissance polyphony. It is rich and unadulterated. What makes it so powerful for me is that the element of the human voice is so simple, yet it is woven in a tapestry of incredible complexity. If you have iTunes, be sure to check it out. If you're only willing to spring for one track I recommend the Agnus Dei. Wow.
I imagine that this type of repertoire is reserved most for professional or highly trained amateurs who really know what they're doing. Which is too bad, because I can't imagine how anyone could listen to it and not want to take part in recreating it.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Heartbeat!
I was able to hear baby's heartbeat for the first time today. It was a much cooler experience than I had anticipated. When the doctor said "There's baby," I think I got this dopey grin on my face and the only thing I could say was "Really?" So, thanks be to God that both of us are healthy and progressing as we should. The heartbeat measured in at 160bpm, which according to the doctor is "perfect girl range." We shall see!
I only wish that Manny could have been with me. He was called in to work at 6 AM to fix this:
Yes, it's a giant sink hole in the middle of a fairly busy street. 100 year old water mains and cold weather just don't mix.
They are making Manny pull at least a 24 hour shift, and the wind chill here is below zero. If you think of it, say a prayer for his safety and the safety of all those working in bitterly cold and sleep-deprived conditions.
I only wish that Manny could have been with me. He was called in to work at 6 AM to fix this:
Yes, it's a giant sink hole in the middle of a fairly busy street. 100 year old water mains and cold weather just don't mix.
They are making Manny pull at least a 24 hour shift, and the wind chill here is below zero. If you think of it, say a prayer for his safety and the safety of all those working in bitterly cold and sleep-deprived conditions.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
My Sulvan Story
If anyone is actually out there reading this, I recommend that you check out this link before continuing. The ladies at CSPP have a delightfully witty and intelligent blog which I very much enjoy. After reading that post, you will understand the title of this one.
I married much earlier than I ever anticipated. In making that choice, I passed up scads of brilliant grad school opportunities. At the time when friends were considering law schools, MBA programs, and other lofty academic pursuits, I was navigating the world of wedding dresses and china patterns. While I was outwardly happy with the prospect of sharing my life with my beloved, deep down, I was hugely disappointed in myself, and felt that several people very close to me shared that same opinion. I had allowed the world to sell me its bill of goods that in order for a woman to be worth anything, she must abjure home and family and make her own way in the world. While I technically could have continued my studies, I did not want to cripple a new marriage with more debt than had already been accumulated from my undergrad studies. So I got a job unrelated to my field of study, just like every other liberal arts major that doesn’t go to grad school, and I kissed a promising academic career goodbye.
As the world first convinced me that marriage was a less than admirable pursuit, it was even easier to buy the message that having children is the equivalent to the end of your life. If you must get married, then for Pete’s sake, DON’T have kids. Or at least not right away. I heard that message from various and sundry well meaning individuals, as well as absorbed it by osmosis from the world around me. Not to mention that I have never been one of those “kid” people. Call me what you will, but I have never been one to fawn over a baby simply because it’s a baby, nor have I ever been impressed with childish antics simply because the person acting inappropriately is under 36” tall. As I was a child who very rarely acted like one, I never did understand why children do some of the things that they do. And the fascination and permissiveness of adults towards certain outrageous behaviors of children further convinced me that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with bearing or raising one of my own. To whit, I popped my little pill every night and carried on in blissful, child-free ignorance.
After four years of continuous pill popping, the detrimental physical and mental effects of synthetic hormones had taken their toll. When I finally began to link the problems I was having to my use of the pill, I went to see my doctor. She had me convinced that I was just this side of the looney bin. It couldn’t possibly be the pill that was causing these terrible occurrences, she said. You should stay on it until menopause as it’s safer than getting pregnant, she said. I went to specialists and did extensive personal research, all of which pointed to a link between hormonal birth control and my physical ailments. So what did I do next? I ditched the evil big-pharma doctor, and thanked God that I found a group of integrative medical doctors in my geographical area. The first doctor I saw there told me to stop the pill immediately as it was doing me great harm. He told me to start learning NFP. I followed his advice and slowly began to regain my health.
Once I tossed the pills, it was as if I had broken free of shackles. Learning about the harmful effects of the pill as well as investigating natural alternatives led to a period of personal discovery. For four years I had been plodding along like a horse with blinders. I had allowed my mind to stagnate because I thought that the choices I had made rendered me worthless. How foolish to have put myself through that kind of turmoil. I came to the realization that you don’t need degrees and fancy abbreviations behind your name to be intelligent. If I was as smart as I liked to think I was, I wouldn’t have tormented myself for years with that kind of foolishness.
Shortly thereafter I found myself faced with a minor crisis of faith. It wasn’t that I doubted my faith or the object of it, but my church had decided to become Purpose Driven. The reading and research that I did after this announcement led to the agonizing but necessary decision to find a new church home. Although it was not easy, the search again led to another period of discovery. This one however served to grow and deepen my faith instead of myself.
One of the ideas to which I was introduced along the way is that contraception in any form is wrong. I weighed and measured that one in my mind, initially rejected it, yet remained haunted by it. I prayed and searched for answers and couldn’t find any that I was completely comfortable with. If children are gifts from God, I had been willfully rejecting any chance of becoming a recipient. The reason you ask? My own comfort. Life as a DINK is pretty good. The addition of kids would mean one income, reduced flexibility, no sleep, more headaches – honestly, who wants to deal with that? But alas, God didn’t say “Be prosperous and fill your house with stuff,” He said “Be fruitful and multiply.” I just hate getting busted like that.
I continued to consider, and think, and work out the whole thing in my mind. All I got for my trouble was more uncertainty and a whopper of a headache. So one fateful day I decided to turn the whole mess over to God, as I should have done from the beginning. Poor Manny had been eagerly anticipating this day as he had always been open to the idea of kids – the opposition had been all mine.
Suffice it to say that baby #1 is due in August. (More on that later.)
The end.
I married much earlier than I ever anticipated. In making that choice, I passed up scads of brilliant grad school opportunities. At the time when friends were considering law schools, MBA programs, and other lofty academic pursuits, I was navigating the world of wedding dresses and china patterns. While I was outwardly happy with the prospect of sharing my life with my beloved, deep down, I was hugely disappointed in myself, and felt that several people very close to me shared that same opinion. I had allowed the world to sell me its bill of goods that in order for a woman to be worth anything, she must abjure home and family and make her own way in the world. While I technically could have continued my studies, I did not want to cripple a new marriage with more debt than had already been accumulated from my undergrad studies. So I got a job unrelated to my field of study, just like every other liberal arts major that doesn’t go to grad school, and I kissed a promising academic career goodbye.
As the world first convinced me that marriage was a less than admirable pursuit, it was even easier to buy the message that having children is the equivalent to the end of your life. If you must get married, then for Pete’s sake, DON’T have kids. Or at least not right away. I heard that message from various and sundry well meaning individuals, as well as absorbed it by osmosis from the world around me. Not to mention that I have never been one of those “kid” people. Call me what you will, but I have never been one to fawn over a baby simply because it’s a baby, nor have I ever been impressed with childish antics simply because the person acting inappropriately is under 36” tall. As I was a child who very rarely acted like one, I never did understand why children do some of the things that they do. And the fascination and permissiveness of adults towards certain outrageous behaviors of children further convinced me that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with bearing or raising one of my own. To whit, I popped my little pill every night and carried on in blissful, child-free ignorance.
After four years of continuous pill popping, the detrimental physical and mental effects of synthetic hormones had taken their toll. When I finally began to link the problems I was having to my use of the pill, I went to see my doctor. She had me convinced that I was just this side of the looney bin. It couldn’t possibly be the pill that was causing these terrible occurrences, she said. You should stay on it until menopause as it’s safer than getting pregnant, she said. I went to specialists and did extensive personal research, all of which pointed to a link between hormonal birth control and my physical ailments. So what did I do next? I ditched the evil big-pharma doctor, and thanked God that I found a group of integrative medical doctors in my geographical area. The first doctor I saw there told me to stop the pill immediately as it was doing me great harm. He told me to start learning NFP. I followed his advice and slowly began to regain my health.
Once I tossed the pills, it was as if I had broken free of shackles. Learning about the harmful effects of the pill as well as investigating natural alternatives led to a period of personal discovery. For four years I had been plodding along like a horse with blinders. I had allowed my mind to stagnate because I thought that the choices I had made rendered me worthless. How foolish to have put myself through that kind of turmoil. I came to the realization that you don’t need degrees and fancy abbreviations behind your name to be intelligent. If I was as smart as I liked to think I was, I wouldn’t have tormented myself for years with that kind of foolishness.
Shortly thereafter I found myself faced with a minor crisis of faith. It wasn’t that I doubted my faith or the object of it, but my church had decided to become Purpose Driven. The reading and research that I did after this announcement led to the agonizing but necessary decision to find a new church home. Although it was not easy, the search again led to another period of discovery. This one however served to grow and deepen my faith instead of myself.
One of the ideas to which I was introduced along the way is that contraception in any form is wrong. I weighed and measured that one in my mind, initially rejected it, yet remained haunted by it. I prayed and searched for answers and couldn’t find any that I was completely comfortable with. If children are gifts from God, I had been willfully rejecting any chance of becoming a recipient. The reason you ask? My own comfort. Life as a DINK is pretty good. The addition of kids would mean one income, reduced flexibility, no sleep, more headaches – honestly, who wants to deal with that? But alas, God didn’t say “Be prosperous and fill your house with stuff,” He said “Be fruitful and multiply.” I just hate getting busted like that.
I continued to consider, and think, and work out the whole thing in my mind. All I got for my trouble was more uncertainty and a whopper of a headache. So one fateful day I decided to turn the whole mess over to God, as I should have done from the beginning. Poor Manny had been eagerly anticipating this day as he had always been open to the idea of kids – the opposition had been all mine.
Suffice it to say that baby #1 is due in August. (More on that later.)
The end.
Monday, January 14, 2008
I Just Had to Click On It...
So you get an email in your inbox that has a link to GodTube. A skit. You darn well know that in all probability it isn't something you want to see. But then you are overtaken by an acute attack of train wreck syndrome and you just HAVE to.
Come on. You know you want to hit play.
At first viewing I was bothered by the absence of the cross. Yep, that's where they went wrong, I thought. But a second run through revealed that there was a point at which the Christ figure with arms outstretched crumples to the ground, ostensibly in death. After that he is shown being consumed by the tempters, something that I associate with "He descended into hell." So in a very, and I mean VERY, loose fashion, some sort of substitutionary atonement is being put forth. There still is no physical cross, but what with the drum set and all, it most likely wasn't logistically possible.
You also have to overlook the botched up portrayal of the fall into sin. Where is it? Is our girl representing the Creation of mankind? If so, oops. Unless these are some Talmud-believing evangelicals, the woman created from dust thing just doesn't work. On the other hand, maybe our girl is supposed to represent God breathing new life into each person. If so, oops again. If that were the case, she should have been wretched from the beginning, and our Christ figure wouldn't have been looking quite so pleased with her. I guess I'm being nitpicky here, but I digress.
Then it struck me. The pantomiming in and of itself was not a completely inaccurate depiction of what we go through as sinner-saints. The LYRICS that the actions are paired with are downright disturbing. Here they are: ("Everything" by Lifehouse)
Find Me Here
Speak To Me
I want to feel you
I need to hear you
You are the light
That's leading me
To the place where I find peace again.
You are the strength, that keeps me walking.
You are the hope, that keeps me trusting.
You are the light to my soul.
You are my purpose...you're everything.
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
You calm the storms, and you give me rest.
You hold me in your hands, you won't let me fall.
You steal my heart, and you take my breath away.
Would you take me in? Take me deeper now?
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
Cause you're all I want, You're all I need
You're everything,everything
You're all I want your all I need
You're everything, everything.
You're all I want you're all I need.
You're everything, everything
You're all I want you're all I need, you're everything, everything.
And How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
Followers of Buddha, the Dalai Lama, or anyone/thing else could produce a "skit" with the exact same backdrop. The same thing cannot be said however for "Salvation Unto Us Has Come" or "In Adam We Have All Been One" or "In the Shattered Bliss of Eden." Bummer those hymns don't lend themselves to those nifty cross-body leads.
One thing they did get right - did you notice the alb and stole-like garments on the Christ figure? Looks suspiciously like vestments to me. Funny how in so many places it's okay for kids to play dress up with such a strong symbol of Christ's righteousness, but many men who are supposed to be standing in His stead shun them for lack of coolness. Hmmm.
Okay. Rant over.
Come on. You know you want to hit play.
At first viewing I was bothered by the absence of the cross. Yep, that's where they went wrong, I thought. But a second run through revealed that there was a point at which the Christ figure with arms outstretched crumples to the ground, ostensibly in death. After that he is shown being consumed by the tempters, something that I associate with "He descended into hell." So in a very, and I mean VERY, loose fashion, some sort of substitutionary atonement is being put forth. There still is no physical cross, but what with the drum set and all, it most likely wasn't logistically possible.
You also have to overlook the botched up portrayal of the fall into sin. Where is it? Is our girl representing the Creation of mankind? If so, oops. Unless these are some Talmud-believing evangelicals, the woman created from dust thing just doesn't work. On the other hand, maybe our girl is supposed to represent God breathing new life into each person. If so, oops again. If that were the case, she should have been wretched from the beginning, and our Christ figure wouldn't have been looking quite so pleased with her. I guess I'm being nitpicky here, but I digress.
Then it struck me. The pantomiming in and of itself was not a completely inaccurate depiction of what we go through as sinner-saints. The LYRICS that the actions are paired with are downright disturbing. Here they are: ("Everything" by Lifehouse)
Find Me Here
Speak To Me
I want to feel you
I need to hear you
You are the light
That's leading me
To the place where I find peace again.
You are the strength, that keeps me walking.
You are the hope, that keeps me trusting.
You are the light to my soul.
You are my purpose...you're everything.
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
You calm the storms, and you give me rest.
You hold me in your hands, you won't let me fall.
You steal my heart, and you take my breath away.
Would you take me in? Take me deeper now?
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
Cause you're all I want, You're all I need
You're everything,everything
You're all I want your all I need
You're everything, everything.
You're all I want you're all I need.
You're everything, everything
You're all I want you're all I need, you're everything, everything.
And How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
Followers of Buddha, the Dalai Lama, or anyone/thing else could produce a "skit" with the exact same backdrop. The same thing cannot be said however for "Salvation Unto Us Has Come" or "In Adam We Have All Been One" or "In the Shattered Bliss of Eden." Bummer those hymns don't lend themselves to those nifty cross-body leads.
One thing they did get right - did you notice the alb and stole-like garments on the Christ figure? Looks suspiciously like vestments to me. Funny how in so many places it's okay for kids to play dress up with such a strong symbol of Christ's righteousness, but many men who are supposed to be standing in His stead shun them for lack of coolness. Hmmm.
Okay. Rant over.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Congratulations to Manny...
...who was sworn in as a United States citizen today!
I am so proud of him. It has taken us over 6 years to get here, and it has definitely not been easy, but what a relief to finally have it done. Thanks be to God!
I am so proud of him. It has taken us over 6 years to get here, and it has definitely not been easy, but what a relief to finally have it done. Thanks be to God!
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Fiestas Guadalupanas
Mexico is a fascinating place, especially if one has any interest in anthropology. One of the most amazing sights to see is the celebration associated with the Virgen de Guadalupe whose feast day falls on December 12th. While the fiestas are amazing from a cultural standpoint, they are equally sad from a Lutheran one.
While staying in the pueblo where Manny grew up, we were awakened at 5 AM, every morning by quarter-sticks of dynamite set off by faithful devotees making a novena to the Virgin. This was followed shortly thereafter by vigorous tolling of the church bells. On some mornings, though closer to 6 AM, a small marching band of schoolchildren would assemble and process from just outside our hotel room to the church located in the plaza, about 9 blocks away. On the actual feast day a great mass of people congregates in order to parade to the plaza and to Mass. Some carry statues of the Virgin, some carry signs, and some will make the trip on their knees. One special young lady is chosen to represent the Virgin herself, and is dressed to resemble the image of Guadalupe in green and rose colored robes. Other children are dressed up as indios, wearing the traditional indigenous dress of their particular region.
A brief history of the apparition of Guadalupe, courtesy of Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Our_Lady_of_Guadalupe), is as follows:
“According to traditional Catholic accounts of the Guadalupan apparition, during a walk from his village to the city on December 9, 1531, Juan Diego [a poor, indigenous man] saw a vision of a Virgin at the Hill of Tepeyac [in Mexico City]. Speaking in Nahuatl, [the Aztec language] Our Lady of Guadalupe asked him to build an abbey at that site. When Juan Diego spoke to the Spanish bishop, Fray Juan de Zumárraga, he asked him for a miraculous sign to prove his claim. The Virgin asked Juan Diego to gather flowers, even though it was winter when no flower bloomed. He found Castillian roses, gathered them on his tilma, [cloak] and presented these to bishop Zumárraga. When he presented the roses to Zumárraga, the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe miraculously appeared imprinted on the cloth.”
Mexico is an overwhelmingly Roman Catholic country, but it is a very syncretistic Roman Catholicism that holds sway there. The Hill of Tepeyac in Mexico City mentioned above is home to the Basilica of Guadalupe and its stunningly beautiful gardens. Tepeyac also happened to be the place where the Aztec mother goddess Tonantzin was worshipped. In 1996, the abbot of the Guadalupe shrine was defrocked by the cardinal of Mexico City for saying that Juan Diego never truly existed, implying that the Guadalupe account was a myth intended to transfer the faith of the indigenous people from one goddess figure to another. The coincidence does not end with Guadalupe. Many prominent church buildings or shrines to particular saints were built on ground once dedicated to indigenous gods or goddesses.
The devotion of the people to the Virgin is fervent and pervasive. What saddens me so much is that the devotion is so terribly misplaced. When I did a semester abroad closer to Mexico City, I witnessed men and women crawling to the Basilica on their knees, coming to make their supplications or in thanksgiving for a favor supposedly granted by the Virgin. The Basilica itself is a church building devoid of Jesus and full of Mary. Many people will go to church their entire lives but will only know their Savior’s mother instead of their Savior. While Mary deserves high esteem for her role as Mother of God, that esteem should never eclipse nor replace the fount and source of every blessing, the One that she bore so that through His death and resurrection, we may have everlasting life.
While staying in the pueblo where Manny grew up, we were awakened at 5 AM, every morning by quarter-sticks of dynamite set off by faithful devotees making a novena to the Virgin. This was followed shortly thereafter by vigorous tolling of the church bells. On some mornings, though closer to 6 AM, a small marching band of schoolchildren would assemble and process from just outside our hotel room to the church located in the plaza, about 9 blocks away. On the actual feast day a great mass of people congregates in order to parade to the plaza and to Mass. Some carry statues of the Virgin, some carry signs, and some will make the trip on their knees. One special young lady is chosen to represent the Virgin herself, and is dressed to resemble the image of Guadalupe in green and rose colored robes. Other children are dressed up as indios, wearing the traditional indigenous dress of their particular region.
A brief history of the apparition of Guadalupe, courtesy of Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Our_Lady_of_Guadalupe), is as follows:
“According to traditional Catholic accounts of the Guadalupan apparition, during a walk from his village to the city on December 9, 1531, Juan Diego [a poor, indigenous man] saw a vision of a Virgin at the Hill of Tepeyac [in Mexico City]. Speaking in Nahuatl, [the Aztec language] Our Lady of Guadalupe asked him to build an abbey at that site. When Juan Diego spoke to the Spanish bishop, Fray Juan de Zumárraga, he asked him for a miraculous sign to prove his claim. The Virgin asked Juan Diego to gather flowers, even though it was winter when no flower bloomed. He found Castillian roses, gathered them on his tilma, [cloak] and presented these to bishop Zumárraga. When he presented the roses to Zumárraga, the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe miraculously appeared imprinted on the cloth.”
Mexico is an overwhelmingly Roman Catholic country, but it is a very syncretistic Roman Catholicism that holds sway there. The Hill of Tepeyac in Mexico City mentioned above is home to the Basilica of Guadalupe and its stunningly beautiful gardens. Tepeyac also happened to be the place where the Aztec mother goddess Tonantzin was worshipped. In 1996, the abbot of the Guadalupe shrine was defrocked by the cardinal of Mexico City for saying that Juan Diego never truly existed, implying that the Guadalupe account was a myth intended to transfer the faith of the indigenous people from one goddess figure to another. The coincidence does not end with Guadalupe. Many prominent church buildings or shrines to particular saints were built on ground once dedicated to indigenous gods or goddesses.
The devotion of the people to the Virgin is fervent and pervasive. What saddens me so much is that the devotion is so terribly misplaced. When I did a semester abroad closer to Mexico City, I witnessed men and women crawling to the Basilica on their knees, coming to make their supplications or in thanksgiving for a favor supposedly granted by the Virgin. The Basilica itself is a church building devoid of Jesus and full of Mary. Many people will go to church their entire lives but will only know their Savior’s mother instead of their Savior. While Mary deserves high esteem for her role as Mother of God, that esteem should never eclipse nor replace the fount and source of every blessing, the One that she bore so that through His death and resurrection, we may have everlasting life.
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