My suspicion is that I am unbearable to shop with. I have no problem traipsing all over a store, stopping to look at any bright thing, touching everything soft, smelling every candle. I imagine each item in my life - shoes on my feet, vases in my kitchen, linens on my bed. And then I walk out without buying a thing. Part of the reason is my miserly nature, but I also am skeptical that owning whatever I'd looked at could compare to my imagination.
Last summer I heard a series of lectures by John Bell, who snarkily referred to the imagination as "the bogus gift of the Holy Spirit". The magic of what happens inside our heads is intangible, so we don't value it, or talk about its power. My beloved Augustine declared "to reach the goal is nothing else but the will to go" - but unless we have imagined our goal we can't begin the journey.
The great story of the conversion of Ignatius is that he read the lives of the saints, and when he imagined himself doing great things like they did, rather than the "great" things he read in his chivalric novels, he was filled with a satisfaction that didn't abate. And so his imagination propelled him into heroic action because he listened to it and made it reality.
I was captivated by the line in President Obama's speech last night about expanding our moral imagination. I'm not going to parse every line of the speech or imply that he was making a sweeping statement about the role of imagination in our moral development. I will simply say I was happy to hear the use of our imaginations stated as a worthy aspiration. What is empathy if not the imagining of the inner life of another?
Beyond empathy, our imaginations shape our moral life. I try every day to be better than I was the day before, because I can imagine a life in which I am better than I am. The relentless pursuit of improvement to which we are called can be exhausting. We are guided in that pursuit by a vision that is ours alone, purportedly trapped in our imaginations yet freer than our habits.
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
They'll know we are Christians by our love.
Something awful happened today.
The shooting of Congresswoman Giffords is a specific, personal tragedy, and I don't want to distract from it's specificity by making her a symbol. Yet we can't deny the country was shocked into awareness today, and many of us are thinking about the consequences of mean-spiritedness.
I think a lot about mean-spiritedness in my own religious context. Sometimes I wonder if anyone can be quite as mean as Catholics can be. So many of my fellow Catholics have bought the current politicial us-vs-them mentality hook, line and sinker. They are embattled, in the fortress, sole and indispensible defenders of the Body of Christ. If they do not keep the unworthy from the community, no one will! I don't have the heart for that sort of combat, and I have the historical perspective to know it's not up to me to decide who is in and who is out.
That's where my head was when I got to mass this afternoon. The first thing I did with the organist was run the psalm - "The Lord will bless his people with peace". It was almost laughable in light of the heartwrenching afternoon. The Lord will bless us with peace - will we have it?
The first reading announced a favored one of God who "shall bring forth justice to the nations, not crying out, not shouting, not making his voice heard in the street." How often do we who cry out think we are being prophetic when we are really just being loud? The 'soldiers in the army of Christ' who profess a Church militant, who want to root out those who are unworthy of the faith - they may be as misguided as those who expected a zealous and violent Messiah.
God confounds us, and rather than drawing the boundaries we would like upon the Chosen People, God opens wide the doors and does what we least expect.
Fast-forward to the second reading. "In truth, I see that God shows no partiality. Rather, in every nation whoever fears him and acts uprightly is acceptable to him." Remember, this is Peter talking - not exactly one for welcoming the stranger and opening wide the doors. If a primary theme of Acts is the demarcation of boundaries, its ultimate conclusion is that the net Christ cast was much wider than initially imagined. However you want to put it: "All God's critters got a place in the choir" or "Here comes everybody", the message is clear. Those who fear God and act justly are acceptable.
And then the familiar Gospel reading, with it's beautiful climax: "he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, saying, 'This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.'" That's what I expected to blog about when I woke up this morning, how we need to listen to the voices that tell us we are pleasing, and listen for God's voice among them. After I was shocked by violence today, the Scripture did its marvelous work of meeting me where I am. The voice did not whisper to only a few. God's voice thundered to all.
I give a lot of thought to ecclesiology, enough to know that no religion exists without some sort of boundaries. How much damage do we do when we draw the lines too violently, when we presume the worst of people and don't act with charity?
As we prepared our altar to participate in Christ's sacrifice and the Church's feast, we sang "They'll know we are Christians by our love". Love is not pompous, nor rude, nor self-interested. I have to work as hard as anyone to live the love that Paul describes in 1 Cor 13. I know there are people who claim to be acting out of "tough love" when they harangue Christians who don't meet their expectations. Sorry folks, but I have to call shenanigans on that. I know what charity looks like, and vitriolic criticism it ain't.
It's not good for any of us to live in a constant state of defensiveness, ready to throw a punch at anyone who endangers our Church (or our country, or our paradigm, or...). I for one am ready to relax, to let my guard down against a Them who may not even exist, and trust that God can take care of us, of the Church, and even of God's self.
The shooting of Congresswoman Giffords is a specific, personal tragedy, and I don't want to distract from it's specificity by making her a symbol. Yet we can't deny the country was shocked into awareness today, and many of us are thinking about the consequences of mean-spiritedness.
I think a lot about mean-spiritedness in my own religious context. Sometimes I wonder if anyone can be quite as mean as Catholics can be. So many of my fellow Catholics have bought the current politicial us-vs-them mentality hook, line and sinker. They are embattled, in the fortress, sole and indispensible defenders of the Body of Christ. If they do not keep the unworthy from the community, no one will! I don't have the heart for that sort of combat, and I have the historical perspective to know it's not up to me to decide who is in and who is out.
That's where my head was when I got to mass this afternoon. The first thing I did with the organist was run the psalm - "The Lord will bless his people with peace". It was almost laughable in light of the heartwrenching afternoon. The Lord will bless us with peace - will we have it?
The first reading announced a favored one of God who "shall bring forth justice to the nations, not crying out, not shouting, not making his voice heard in the street." How often do we who cry out think we are being prophetic when we are really just being loud? The 'soldiers in the army of Christ' who profess a Church militant, who want to root out those who are unworthy of the faith - they may be as misguided as those who expected a zealous and violent Messiah.
God confounds us, and rather than drawing the boundaries we would like upon the Chosen People, God opens wide the doors and does what we least expect.
Fast-forward to the second reading. "In truth, I see that God shows no partiality. Rather, in every nation whoever fears him and acts uprightly is acceptable to him." Remember, this is Peter talking - not exactly one for welcoming the stranger and opening wide the doors. If a primary theme of Acts is the demarcation of boundaries, its ultimate conclusion is that the net Christ cast was much wider than initially imagined. However you want to put it: "All God's critters got a place in the choir" or "Here comes everybody", the message is clear. Those who fear God and act justly are acceptable.
And then the familiar Gospel reading, with it's beautiful climax: "he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, saying, 'This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.'" That's what I expected to blog about when I woke up this morning, how we need to listen to the voices that tell us we are pleasing, and listen for God's voice among them. After I was shocked by violence today, the Scripture did its marvelous work of meeting me where I am. The voice did not whisper to only a few. God's voice thundered to all.
I give a lot of thought to ecclesiology, enough to know that no religion exists without some sort of boundaries. How much damage do we do when we draw the lines too violently, when we presume the worst of people and don't act with charity?
As we prepared our altar to participate in Christ's sacrifice and the Church's feast, we sang "They'll know we are Christians by our love". Love is not pompous, nor rude, nor self-interested. I have to work as hard as anyone to live the love that Paul describes in 1 Cor 13. I know there are people who claim to be acting out of "tough love" when they harangue Christians who don't meet their expectations. Sorry folks, but I have to call shenanigans on that. I know what charity looks like, and vitriolic criticism it ain't.
It's not good for any of us to live in a constant state of defensiveness, ready to throw a punch at anyone who endangers our Church (or our country, or our paradigm, or...). I for one am ready to relax, to let my guard down against a Them who may not even exist, and trust that God can take care of us, of the Church, and even of God's self.
In all things, charity
In essentials, unity. In non-essentials, liberty. In all things, charity. - Attributed to St Augustine.
Something awful happened today.
A politician was shot and people made it political and then they were criticized for being political. We heard she died and were horrified, we heard the reports were wrong and were relieved, then were sad again as the death toll rose to include a child, then relieved again to hear that the shooter was likely not motivated by politics but by mental illness - as if the lunacy of the violent one could undo the reality that was present long before this event: we live in a world that is horribly broken, and it is our own brokenness that makes it so.
I am partisan and constantly wavering between being proud and ashamed of the fact. When I am in a good mood I truly believe that most people want what's best for all people, and we just disagree on how to achieve it. I tend to side with one political party, but I try with all my might to look for the best intentions in the agendas of those with whom I disagree politically. Believe me, this suspension of contentiousness goes against all of my natural inclinations.
It is hard for me, but I do my best, which leaves me frustrated with those who won't at least try to be charitable in their discourse. Politicians get elected by fearmongering and mudslinging, playing to the worst parts of our nature. Our society and our government become about a Them - sometimes nameless, sometimes those who voted the "wrong" way, or "activist" judges, or "Kenyan" presidents - anyone who is out to get us. We should hate Them, defend ourselves from Them, target Them, maybe even destroy Them.
Coming under fire today (pun intended) was Sarah Palin. I try not to comment much on Sarah Palin, for a number of reasons. First, I honestly don't know where my general distaste for the far right ends and a legitimate critique of her begins. Also, I am sensitive to how rare her aggressiveness is in a female public figure, and I don't want to come down hard on someone with whom I disagree when she is demonstrating a brashness that I adopt myself. It was reading some excerpts from her recent book that convinced me of a mean-spiritedness in her public persona that is offensive and unhelpful.
We use politics as an excuse to be mean-spirited, and that us-vs-them lack of charity bleeds into our other interactions as well. That mindset in Christian circles will be the subject of another post. And while I don't expect politics to follow the same rules as faith, it would be nice if the ubiquitous lip-service paid to Christianity manifested in something other than a further widening of the imagined chasm between us and them.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Remembering the Four Churchwomen
"The church's role is to accompany those who suffer the most, and to witness our hope in the resurrection." - Maura Clarke
On December 2 we remembered the four churchwomen killed on that date in El Salvador in 1980. Ita Ford, Maura Clarke, Dorothy Kazel, and Jean Donovan were raped and murdered by members of the Salvadoran military during the terrible period of oppressive violence that lasted in that country for more than a decade.
One news report commemorating the event mentioned that the killings of these women opened the world’s eyes to the atrocities being committed in El Salvador. It’s important that we look at the context in which this awful event occurred, and that there is plenty of blame to go around. Conversations I've had this week about these women often turned to a number of topics- the School of the Americas, Oscar Romero, US involvement in Latin American conflicts (with a healthy dose of my guiltiest pleasure: Reagan-bashing).
At what point do our saints stop being people and become symbols? Can we remember these women as individuals in their own right and as part of a grander narrative? I think there’s a tendency in hagiography (particularly when it comes to women) to miss the trees for the forest. We miss the particularity of their holiness by focusing on What The World Learned From Them.
"I hope you come to find that which gives life a deep meaning for you. Something worth living for--maybe even worth dying for." -Ita Ford
If these women were merely victims caught up in the world-wide turmoil of the late Cold War, if this were only about the lingering effects of European colonization of the Americas, or the American support of oppressive regimes, or a civil war in which few were acting morally, we wouldn’t admire them. Through the memories of those who knew them and through their writings, we find evidence of an integrity that both put them in harm’s way and gave their lives purpose. They knew who they were and what they were called to do, and they didn’t let the world around them muddy the waters.
Integrity is the quality we need from our modern saints. To stand firm among the swirl of our complex world, to remember one’s mission while being bombarded by competing values, to keep the spark of divine love alive in our hearts while being told that we should fill our hearts with only ourselves, that is to be holy. We may think that we have something new going on here, but wasn’t Jesus also caught up in a complex political and social environment, and put to death for refusing to deny who he was?
The four churchwomen followed Jesus by not denying who they were, even though the path they were on led to martyrdom. Their conviction is admirable (or foolish, depending on how you look at it), and shouldn’t be ignored when examining the bigger conflict in which they were caught up. It’s a horror that simply living an honest life of service can lead to a brutal death. We do a disservice to the women’s memories if we focus only on the salaciousness and drama of their death and fail to notice the simple holiness of their lives.
We're all sinners, everyone of us, and a radical change is needed for all of us. - Ita Ford
[I will never be a successful blogger if I don’t lose this habit of thinking things through before I post about them. What good does a post about the four churchwomen do two days after the anniversary of their killings? If I don’t cut out my processing time I may never be a successful blogger, but I just might turn into a writer. ]
On December 2 we remembered the four churchwomen killed on that date in El Salvador in 1980. Ita Ford, Maura Clarke, Dorothy Kazel, and Jean Donovan were raped and murdered by members of the Salvadoran military during the terrible period of oppressive violence that lasted in that country for more than a decade.
One news report commemorating the event mentioned that the killings of these women opened the world’s eyes to the atrocities being committed in El Salvador. It’s important that we look at the context in which this awful event occurred, and that there is plenty of blame to go around. Conversations I've had this week about these women often turned to a number of topics- the School of the Americas, Oscar Romero, US involvement in Latin American conflicts (with a healthy dose of my guiltiest pleasure: Reagan-bashing).
At what point do our saints stop being people and become symbols? Can we remember these women as individuals in their own right and as part of a grander narrative? I think there’s a tendency in hagiography (particularly when it comes to women) to miss the trees for the forest. We miss the particularity of their holiness by focusing on What The World Learned From Them.
"I hope you come to find that which gives life a deep meaning for you. Something worth living for--maybe even worth dying for." -Ita Ford
If these women were merely victims caught up in the world-wide turmoil of the late Cold War, if this were only about the lingering effects of European colonization of the Americas, or the American support of oppressive regimes, or a civil war in which few were acting morally, we wouldn’t admire them. Through the memories of those who knew them and through their writings, we find evidence of an integrity that both put them in harm’s way and gave their lives purpose. They knew who they were and what they were called to do, and they didn’t let the world around them muddy the waters.
Integrity is the quality we need from our modern saints. To stand firm among the swirl of our complex world, to remember one’s mission while being bombarded by competing values, to keep the spark of divine love alive in our hearts while being told that we should fill our hearts with only ourselves, that is to be holy. We may think that we have something new going on here, but wasn’t Jesus also caught up in a complex political and social environment, and put to death for refusing to deny who he was?
The four churchwomen followed Jesus by not denying who they were, even though the path they were on led to martyrdom. Their conviction is admirable (or foolish, depending on how you look at it), and shouldn’t be ignored when examining the bigger conflict in which they were caught up. It’s a horror that simply living an honest life of service can lead to a brutal death. We do a disservice to the women’s memories if we focus only on the salaciousness and drama of their death and fail to notice the simple holiness of their lives.
We're all sinners, everyone of us, and a radical change is needed for all of us. - Ita Ford
[I will never be a successful blogger if I don’t lose this habit of thinking things through before I post about them. What good does a post about the four churchwomen do two days after the anniversary of their killings? If I don’t cut out my processing time I may never be a successful blogger, but I just might turn into a writer. ]
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Great women are like meteors
Last week I took yet another tour of the state house, an activity that always brings my civics nerd-dom to the fore. I love history, politics, policy, and majestic buildings, so this oft-repeated trip inspires and interests me. I have no illusions about the inclusion of my people in most of Massachusetts history: women, Catholics, and even the iconic Irish were absent from most of the decision making for a large portion of the history of the Commonwealth. So I know how significant it is when we walk by the sign on Senate President Therese Murray's door, and my heart aches a little when we stand in the House chambers, beneath a ceiling encircled with names of Massachusetts greatest (white, anglo-saxon, protestant) men.
Most days I can be patient about the progress women have made. Things are easier for me than they were for my mother, and were easier for her than for her mother. I went to a college my mother couldn't have gone to and have the freedom to live on my own, have a job that I love, and basically do what I want. Things are OK.
At the very end of the tour, in a side hallway near the stairs, we viewed the Portrait Gallery of six of the Commonwealth's most extraordinary women. It was a challenge to listen to our tour guide and read the quotes and look at the portraits. I was struck by this quotation of Lucy Stone:
In education, in marriage, in religion, in everything disappointment is the lot of women. It shall be the business of my life to deepen that disappointment in every woman's heart until she bows down to it no longer.
Then I heard the tour guide say "Not only does this gallery honor these six women, it honors all women". I'm sure our well-spoken and bright guide was just following her script, and I'm sure most of the people I was with were thinking "isn't that nice", but I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying something snide. Don't pretend that portraints of six women make up for centuries of grave injustice, and don't imaging that just because Lucy Stone was a woman, she'd be content with sharing her honor with everyone else just to be nice. This is better than nothing, but it's not even close to justice.
I'm glad we honor Dorothea Dix and Florence Luscomb and the other leaders whose faces are on those brass plaques. In no way does that make it right that so many people's voices were excluded from decision making just because of their gender (or race, or religion). It doesn't make it right that we criticize our successful female politicians for being pushy or unbecoming, and then ridicule the other half who we keep in the public eye in order to have someone at whom to laugh and gawk.
Most days I can be patient about the progress women have made. Things are easier for me than they were for my mother, and were easier for her than for her mother. I went to a college my mother couldn't have gone to and have the freedom to live on my own, have a job that I love, and basically do what I want. Things are OK.
At the very end of the tour, in a side hallway near the stairs, we viewed the Portrait Gallery of six of the Commonwealth's most extraordinary women. It was a challenge to listen to our tour guide and read the quotes and look at the portraits. I was struck by this quotation of Lucy Stone:
In education, in marriage, in religion, in everything disappointment is the lot of women. It shall be the business of my life to deepen that disappointment in every woman's heart until she bows down to it no longer.
Then I heard the tour guide say "Not only does this gallery honor these six women, it honors all women". I'm sure our well-spoken and bright guide was just following her script, and I'm sure most of the people I was with were thinking "isn't that nice", but I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying something snide. Don't pretend that portraints of six women make up for centuries of grave injustice, and don't imaging that just because Lucy Stone was a woman, she'd be content with sharing her honor with everyone else just to be nice. This is better than nothing, but it's not even close to justice.
I'm glad we honor Dorothea Dix and Florence Luscomb and the other leaders whose faces are on those brass plaques. In no way does that make it right that so many people's voices were excluded from decision making just because of their gender (or race, or religion). It doesn't make it right that we criticize our successful female politicians for being pushy or unbecoming, and then ridicule the other half who we keep in the public eye in order to have someone at whom to laugh and gawk.
Earlier that same day, at the JFK Library, I saw an inscription Jackie Kennedy wrote in a gift to her husband: "great men are like meteors, consuming themselves as they light the earth". Fifty years after she quoted Napoleon, women deserve their chance to be meteoric and powerful - and it's not because they are women but because they are human, skilled (or not), wise (or not), strong (or not) like all other humans. The meteoric trajectory is not for every woman nor is it for every man, but everyone deserves a chance to have her photo among the legislative leadership, her name painted above the house chamber, her visage sculpted in bronze.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
To reach the goal is nothing else but the will to go
“Too late have I loved you, O Beauty of ancient days, yet ever new!” Yesterday was the Memorial of St Augustine, one of Christianity’s most celebrated theologians, who had quite a way with words (who could forget “Lord, make me chaste, but not yet”!). His Confessions is considered the first autobiography, and the honesty with which he writes about his sordid youth and spiritual growth is quite moving.
Just over a year ago I rhapsodized about Ted Kennedy, and how rare it was in modern politics to find someone who was able to reinvent himself and improve while in the public eye. Because I can be such a silly, foolish person, I take great comfort in the examples of people who accomplish great things despite being real dopes sometimes.
Augustine is really my kind of saint. Give me someone messy over somebody neat anyday. Don’t get me wrong, I hold the precocious little saints like Dominic Savio in high regard, but I’m not sure I would have wanted to be friends with him. So many people want saints to be neat and tidy – born with some sort of magic that allows them to be heroic. Does that let us off the hook a bit, if we were born without the magic?
I was greatly disturbed in spirit, angry at myself with a turbulent indignation because I had not entered thy will and covenant, O my God, while all my bones cried out to me to enter, extolling it to the skies. The way therein is not by ships or chariots or feet--indeed it was not as far as I had come from the house to the place where we were seated. For to go along that road and indeed to reach the goal is nothing else but the will to go. But it must be a strong and single will, not staggering and swaying about this way and that--a changeable, twisting, fluctuating will, wrestling with itself while one part falls as another rises. (Confessions, Book VIII.8.19)
You don’t live with a mouth like mine for as long as I have without learning how to apologize. For sure, sometimes my apologies are just words, crafted to get me out of something. But the upside of frequent apologizing is that it causes me to really evaluate my thoughts, words, and actions, and occasionally to do what true conversion requires: to change.
On separate occasions over the last two weeks people described me as “athletic” and “happy all the time”. I was really touched by those observations, because they are both things that I had to work so hard for. (I feel the same way when people say that my top notes are easy – not always so!) More than a magic blessing or earth-shattering conversion, I think that most of our change is as simple as deciding who we want to be, and working on it. I wanted to be athletic because I saw all my friends having fun at races, I wanted to be happy because I knew that negativity was a drain on the people around me. (I wanted to have an easy top because I wanted to get hired). Every time I get on stage I try to improve one thing from a previous performance – making those baby steps is all we can do. I wish I didn’t need so much improvement, but like Augustine (and Ignatius, and both Francises, and Dorothy Day, and...) I’m imperfect. Luckily, like them, I too am graced.
Just over a year ago I rhapsodized about Ted Kennedy, and how rare it was in modern politics to find someone who was able to reinvent himself and improve while in the public eye. Because I can be such a silly, foolish person, I take great comfort in the examples of people who accomplish great things despite being real dopes sometimes.
Augustine is really my kind of saint. Give me someone messy over somebody neat anyday. Don’t get me wrong, I hold the precocious little saints like Dominic Savio in high regard, but I’m not sure I would have wanted to be friends with him. So many people want saints to be neat and tidy – born with some sort of magic that allows them to be heroic. Does that let us off the hook a bit, if we were born without the magic?
I was greatly disturbed in spirit, angry at myself with a turbulent indignation because I had not entered thy will and covenant, O my God, while all my bones cried out to me to enter, extolling it to the skies. The way therein is not by ships or chariots or feet--indeed it was not as far as I had come from the house to the place where we were seated. For to go along that road and indeed to reach the goal is nothing else but the will to go. But it must be a strong and single will, not staggering and swaying about this way and that--a changeable, twisting, fluctuating will, wrestling with itself while one part falls as another rises. (Confessions, Book VIII.8.19)
You don’t live with a mouth like mine for as long as I have without learning how to apologize. For sure, sometimes my apologies are just words, crafted to get me out of something. But the upside of frequent apologizing is that it causes me to really evaluate my thoughts, words, and actions, and occasionally to do what true conversion requires: to change.
On separate occasions over the last two weeks people described me as “athletic” and “happy all the time”. I was really touched by those observations, because they are both things that I had to work so hard for. (I feel the same way when people say that my top notes are easy – not always so!) More than a magic blessing or earth-shattering conversion, I think that most of our change is as simple as deciding who we want to be, and working on it. I wanted to be athletic because I saw all my friends having fun at races, I wanted to be happy because I knew that negativity was a drain on the people around me. (I wanted to have an easy top because I wanted to get hired). Every time I get on stage I try to improve one thing from a previous performance – making those baby steps is all we can do. I wish I didn’t need so much improvement, but like Augustine (and Ignatius, and both Francises, and Dorothy Day, and...) I’m imperfect. Luckily, like them, I too am graced.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Mayoral Madness
I'm sure many of you have been waiting with baited breath for the announcement of Felice Mi Fa's mayoral endorsement. Like most things this fall, Election Day has snuck up on me and I haven't peeped about local politics. Those who know me well know there is something wrong with that.
One reason for my silence is that I have been a little unenthused by the slate that is up, although the dual candidacy of "Floon" certainly makes for some drama. I, like a lot of Boston residents, am mildly uncomfortable with the length of Menino's tenure in office, but am generally happy with his leadership. Maybe it's a sign of the conservativism that can come with age, but I am less distressed by his hold on City Hall this year than I was last time around. I will admit, during the last mayoral election I voted against him even though that meant voting for Hennigan (and going against my beloved unions).
This time around, I am not so sure that kicking out Menino should be priority 1. I understand the criticisms around him: he rules with an iron fist and stifles opposition. The BRA is a mess. He won't let developers do what they want. I think a lot of those criticisms take for granted that the good of Boston depends on attracting big businesses to the newest skyscraper downtown. What Menino has excelled at is building up the neighborhoods. If all politics is local, maybe it should be more important that I can find a parking space and that the empty lot up the corner isn't completely trashed. Skyscrapers don't matter much to me, even though I can see them from the top of the street.
There is nothing about Flaherty that excites me, which is why I voted for Yoon in the run-off. If we are going to do change around here, I thought, why don't we do it right? I knew he wasn't going to win but I wanted to send a message (although after what happened with Nader in 2000 I should have known better). And yes, I am one of the 12% of people who votes in mayoral run-offs.
The announcement that Flaherty and Yoon were teaming up did not impress me. Politics makes strange bedfellows, for sure. I can't foresee real teamwork should they make it together to City Hall.
So there will be no blogtastic endorsement today, and I'm not sure who I will vote for on Tuesday (other than Ayanna Pressley for City Council). Townies, please be sure to vote.
One reason for my silence is that I have been a little unenthused by the slate that is up, although the dual candidacy of "Floon" certainly makes for some drama. I, like a lot of Boston residents, am mildly uncomfortable with the length of Menino's tenure in office, but am generally happy with his leadership. Maybe it's a sign of the conservativism that can come with age, but I am less distressed by his hold on City Hall this year than I was last time around. I will admit, during the last mayoral election I voted against him even though that meant voting for Hennigan (and going against my beloved unions).
This time around, I am not so sure that kicking out Menino should be priority 1. I understand the criticisms around him: he rules with an iron fist and stifles opposition. The BRA is a mess. He won't let developers do what they want. I think a lot of those criticisms take for granted that the good of Boston depends on attracting big businesses to the newest skyscraper downtown. What Menino has excelled at is building up the neighborhoods. If all politics is local, maybe it should be more important that I can find a parking space and that the empty lot up the corner isn't completely trashed. Skyscrapers don't matter much to me, even though I can see them from the top of the street.
There is nothing about Flaherty that excites me, which is why I voted for Yoon in the run-off. If we are going to do change around here, I thought, why don't we do it right? I knew he wasn't going to win but I wanted to send a message (although after what happened with Nader in 2000 I should have known better). And yes, I am one of the 12% of people who votes in mayoral run-offs.
The announcement that Flaherty and Yoon were teaming up did not impress me. Politics makes strange bedfellows, for sure. I can't foresee real teamwork should they make it together to City Hall.
So there will be no blogtastic endorsement today, and I'm not sure who I will vote for on Tuesday (other than Ayanna Pressley for City Council). Townies, please be sure to vote.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Singing notes is easy, singing from your heart is hard.
The first time that I traveled to Italy, in the Summer of 2000, I often went to morning mass and/or evening vespers at one of the local churches in Parma. One evening I arrived at San Giovanni Evangelista and parked myself in a pew just as the church ladies were handing out hymnbooks. One old woman in purple approached me and held the hymnal just out of arms reach as she said something to me in Italian I would never forget. It translated roughly to: “Are you going to sing? Then really sing!”
When I tuned in for Kennedy’s wake last weekend, I did not expect the most memorable quote of the evening to come from Brian Stokes Mitchell. Before he started singing “The Impossible Dream”, he told the group assembled that he would miss Ted Kennedy’s voice because of the joy and intensity he brought to his singing. “Singing notes is easy”, Mitchell stated. “Singing from your heart is hard.”
Anyone who tries to ‘make it’ as a singer knows that is an understatement. Even though we all know that the performances that thrill us are the ones that have something to say, it is so tempting just to play it safe. We don’t want to offend with our passion or our message, we don’t want to wear our heart on our sleeve, so we stick with the somewhat bland interpretations that we think will sell.
One of the common quips that you hear when someone is spending too much time practicing and not enough living is that “they don’t write a lot of operas about the inside of a practice room”. Perfect technique and hours of practice only get us so far, and eventually we have to bring our lives and our message to that technique and figure out how to say what we want to say.
I didn’t really understand that idea of a message until very recently, when I had one that informed my singing and that I finally thought was too important to ignore. Still, it’s scary to take a stand and to say something, especially in our society where opinions are a dime a dozen about things that don’t seem to matter (the quality of Jon and Kate’s parenting, ‘death panels’ in the health care bill that don’t actually exist), but holding fast to a belief in a more serious area (the sanctity of the human body, the importance of a worshipping community) can be like stepping on the third rail.
To go back to Kennedy, listening to reflections on his life I think that was one of his most attractive qualities: he stuck to a politically liberal message that emphasized care for the poor. He happened to be savvy enough to craft that message into something that would get him elected, but just having such a clear message caused him to stand out in contemporary politics.
In music and in life, singing from your heart is hard. I’m convinced it’s the only way to “really sing” as my elderly friend in purple admonished me nine years ago. Life’s too short to be bland, or to hide what we have to say because our message might cause people not to like us. If we are not honest about who we are what does the admiration of people mean? Just that we are crafty enough to fool people, and that we believe the truth is not admirable.
When I tuned in for Kennedy’s wake last weekend, I did not expect the most memorable quote of the evening to come from Brian Stokes Mitchell. Before he started singing “The Impossible Dream”, he told the group assembled that he would miss Ted Kennedy’s voice because of the joy and intensity he brought to his singing. “Singing notes is easy”, Mitchell stated. “Singing from your heart is hard.”
Anyone who tries to ‘make it’ as a singer knows that is an understatement. Even though we all know that the performances that thrill us are the ones that have something to say, it is so tempting just to play it safe. We don’t want to offend with our passion or our message, we don’t want to wear our heart on our sleeve, so we stick with the somewhat bland interpretations that we think will sell.
One of the common quips that you hear when someone is spending too much time practicing and not enough living is that “they don’t write a lot of operas about the inside of a practice room”. Perfect technique and hours of practice only get us so far, and eventually we have to bring our lives and our message to that technique and figure out how to say what we want to say.
I didn’t really understand that idea of a message until very recently, when I had one that informed my singing and that I finally thought was too important to ignore. Still, it’s scary to take a stand and to say something, especially in our society where opinions are a dime a dozen about things that don’t seem to matter (the quality of Jon and Kate’s parenting, ‘death panels’ in the health care bill that don’t actually exist), but holding fast to a belief in a more serious area (the sanctity of the human body, the importance of a worshipping community) can be like stepping on the third rail.
To go back to Kennedy, listening to reflections on his life I think that was one of his most attractive qualities: he stuck to a politically liberal message that emphasized care for the poor. He happened to be savvy enough to craft that message into something that would get him elected, but just having such a clear message caused him to stand out in contemporary politics.
In music and in life, singing from your heart is hard. I’m convinced it’s the only way to “really sing” as my elderly friend in purple admonished me nine years ago. Life’s too short to be bland, or to hide what we have to say because our message might cause people not to like us. If we are not honest about who we are what does the admiration of people mean? Just that we are crafty enough to fool people, and that we believe the truth is not admirable.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Funerals, Media, and God's People
My first inclination was to keep commentary on the Kennedy funeral to a minimum, mostly because it just seems tacky to Monday morning quarterback a Mass of Christian Burial. But I have spent the last few days surrounded by church types who all have an opinion, plus I am under strict orders to post tonight, so I’ll share my thoughts regardless. Between thoughts on the liturgy and reflections on the concepts of the liturgy as expressed by commentators and media, trying to even think about this has been so meta that I could be sick. Maybe writing will help sort it all out.
Obviously I was very interested in what was likely to be the most public display of Catholic ritual in recent memory. As I was running early Saturday morning (I had to squeeze in a long run before the coverage started), I thought to myself “Will people still think that Catholicism is supremely weird after this whole thing is over?”
Let’s start with what I know best: music. Both beautiful and disappointing. First, it was the one thing that the networks couldn’t seem to broadcast right. During the opening song I surfed all over the place trying to find a balance that didn’t include heaping portions of grating tenor. From what I could tell, words to the opening song were printed in the program, as it appeared people were singing along. I think it would have been powerful to hear the sound of the assembly. I also hope that choosing “Holy God We Praise Thy Name” will encourage some other folks to select that for their funeral, rather than schlock like One Bread One Body and Hail Mary: Gentle Woman (both of which I am singing for a funeral tomorrow).
I was horribly disappointed that the ordinary of the mass wasn’t sung. I’ll admit that there are two issues here. One is that modern American Catholicism does not have a suitably dignified mass setting. Observing the family and their familiarity with the liturgy, I know that they would have reflexively sung along with whatever mass parts the organist cued up. But do we really want Mass of Creation as the public face of Catholicism (nothing personal Marty)?
The second issue is the pervasive entertainment model of the liturgy. Assemblies become audiences, song leaders become soloists, and worship aids become programs. The very pieces of the liturgy that we all know inside and out, the words and melodies that pop out of our mouths without our even knowing it (like Mass of Creation – and even One Bread One Body) are the pieces that we are most willing to cut if we feel that things are going to run a little long. As if those four measures of intro on Haugen’s Sanctus are going to make or break a liturgy with three post-communion reflections and a twenty minute homily. The fact that the Song of Commendation wasn’t sung was the final blow to this lover of communal singing.
One idea that motivates me when ministering at funerals is that our liturgy gives us a glimpse of the eternal life that we hope and pray the departed is enjoying. There was beautiful, sublime music at the funeral on Saturday. Still, as hopeful as I am that Susan Graham and Placido Domingo will enter into the beatific vision when the time comes, their’s are not the voices I want next to me in the celestial choir. I want my mother switching octaves as the music demands. I want my brother jokingly singing JamBandforJesus music the way he does over the phone on Sunday nights. I want my father imitating my “howling”. And, for what it’s worth, I want a big honkin’ timpani roll each time we launch back into singing Holy Holy Holy. The funerals that give me the most hope are ones that are filled with the sound of the voices of God’s people.
A few comments on the media coverage, which I thought was respectful overall. It was perfect to keep the video cameras away from the communion procession; nothing has irked me more in the last few years than the politicization of the Eucharist. Brian Williams’ random editorializing during the Sign of Peace about its recent introduction into liturgical practice was somewhat amusing. Hearing Andrea Mitchell refer to the pall as the ‘fabric’ made my heart sink a little. If you insist on commentary on a religious event, it would be nice to have people who knew their stuff doing the commenting.
But in the end, this wasn’t just a religious event, and it was never going to be. A lot of newspapers sanitized the religious side of things, talking about the nice speakers and the beautiful “performances”. Still, there are some of us out there who are in on the secret, who know what the funeral Mass is about and know how noteworthy and admirable it is that a public person and his public family wanted this Catholic service. We are the ones who got a subversive rush when Cardinal Seán recited the Latin prayers before the censing of the casket. Religion is a piece of identity, and many of us who shared a religious identity with the Senator likely hoped to see even more of that identity shown off for all to see. I bet I’m not the only person who asked “Will people still think that Catholicism is supremely weird after this whole thing is over?” and then thought “I hope so”.
Obviously I was very interested in what was likely to be the most public display of Catholic ritual in recent memory. As I was running early Saturday morning (I had to squeeze in a long run before the coverage started), I thought to myself “Will people still think that Catholicism is supremely weird after this whole thing is over?”
Let’s start with what I know best: music. Both beautiful and disappointing. First, it was the one thing that the networks couldn’t seem to broadcast right. During the opening song I surfed all over the place trying to find a balance that didn’t include heaping portions of grating tenor. From what I could tell, words to the opening song were printed in the program, as it appeared people were singing along. I think it would have been powerful to hear the sound of the assembly. I also hope that choosing “Holy God We Praise Thy Name” will encourage some other folks to select that for their funeral, rather than schlock like One Bread One Body and Hail Mary: Gentle Woman (both of which I am singing for a funeral tomorrow).
I was horribly disappointed that the ordinary of the mass wasn’t sung. I’ll admit that there are two issues here. One is that modern American Catholicism does not have a suitably dignified mass setting. Observing the family and their familiarity with the liturgy, I know that they would have reflexively sung along with whatever mass parts the organist cued up. But do we really want Mass of Creation as the public face of Catholicism (nothing personal Marty)?
The second issue is the pervasive entertainment model of the liturgy. Assemblies become audiences, song leaders become soloists, and worship aids become programs. The very pieces of the liturgy that we all know inside and out, the words and melodies that pop out of our mouths without our even knowing it (like Mass of Creation – and even One Bread One Body) are the pieces that we are most willing to cut if we feel that things are going to run a little long. As if those four measures of intro on Haugen’s Sanctus are going to make or break a liturgy with three post-communion reflections and a twenty minute homily. The fact that the Song of Commendation wasn’t sung was the final blow to this lover of communal singing.
One idea that motivates me when ministering at funerals is that our liturgy gives us a glimpse of the eternal life that we hope and pray the departed is enjoying. There was beautiful, sublime music at the funeral on Saturday. Still, as hopeful as I am that Susan Graham and Placido Domingo will enter into the beatific vision when the time comes, their’s are not the voices I want next to me in the celestial choir. I want my mother switching octaves as the music demands. I want my brother jokingly singing JamBandforJesus music the way he does over the phone on Sunday nights. I want my father imitating my “howling”. And, for what it’s worth, I want a big honkin’ timpani roll each time we launch back into singing Holy Holy Holy. The funerals that give me the most hope are ones that are filled with the sound of the voices of God’s people.
A few comments on the media coverage, which I thought was respectful overall. It was perfect to keep the video cameras away from the communion procession; nothing has irked me more in the last few years than the politicization of the Eucharist. Brian Williams’ random editorializing during the Sign of Peace about its recent introduction into liturgical practice was somewhat amusing. Hearing Andrea Mitchell refer to the pall as the ‘fabric’ made my heart sink a little. If you insist on commentary on a religious event, it would be nice to have people who knew their stuff doing the commenting.
But in the end, this wasn’t just a religious event, and it was never going to be. A lot of newspapers sanitized the religious side of things, talking about the nice speakers and the beautiful “performances”. Still, there are some of us out there who are in on the secret, who know what the funeral Mass is about and know how noteworthy and admirable it is that a public person and his public family wanted this Catholic service. We are the ones who got a subversive rush when Cardinal Seán recited the Latin prayers before the censing of the casket. Religion is a piece of identity, and many of us who shared a religious identity with the Senator likely hoped to see even more of that identity shown off for all to see. I bet I’m not the only person who asked “Will people still think that Catholicism is supremely weird after this whole thing is over?” and then thought “I hope so”.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Becoming a Lion
For this left-leaning Catholic from New England with a passion for policy, there are few people held in higher regard than Jed Bartlet, who, unfortunately, is imaginary. Ted Kennedy has always been one of those few, as I would guess he has been for other northeastern Catholic Dems. Kennedy spoke our language. Much like Obama has done over the last few years, he announced to the world what we believed in better language than we could ever come up with on our own. He fought for things that we didn’t even know we wanted to fight for until he brought them to light.
We live in an era without second chances. One scandal, one misstep, one howl (remember Howard Dean?) and you are out like yesterday’s trash. One of the more compelling themes to come out of reflections on Kennedy’s tenure in the Senate is the consequence of his longevity. Rather than simply celebrating longevity for longevity’s sake, I cherish that longevity for giving us a model of great endurance and growth.
Our beloved “Liberal Lion” was not born a lion. He stumbled through youth like the rest of us, making tragically bad choices and enduring scandals that would put our current generation of blathering adulterous squirts like Mark Sanford to shame. Because of his name and because of his era he could keep going in public life and continue to work not only to make America what he thought it should be but to become what he should be as well.
When I look to Kennedy as a role model (in some things, not all, surely) it is because I see an example of someone who grew up. Lions are made, not born, and as I scamper around like a dumb cub swatting at toys and losing my balance, I feel hope that with perseverance and self-correction I can become who I am supposed to be. No matter how painful life’s discipline may be we have a choice to be broken or a choice to continue becoming. The elder Kennedy had become someone who was truly admirable, someone who had refined his message and knew for what he was fighting.
Nowadays public figures have to be perfect all the time. There’s no place for a sordid history, and those who hope to live in the public eye need to start preparing for it in childhood. There can be no smear or blemish, because all of the rest of we damaged people won’t allow that in our heroes. I, for one, relish the opportunity to celebrate a damaged, sinful hero. We don’t have to ignore the sinfulness to admire the goodness of someone who had the good fortune and the grace to mature.
We live in an era without second chances. One scandal, one misstep, one howl (remember Howard Dean?) and you are out like yesterday’s trash. One of the more compelling themes to come out of reflections on Kennedy’s tenure in the Senate is the consequence of his longevity. Rather than simply celebrating longevity for longevity’s sake, I cherish that longevity for giving us a model of great endurance and growth.
Our beloved “Liberal Lion” was not born a lion. He stumbled through youth like the rest of us, making tragically bad choices and enduring scandals that would put our current generation of blathering adulterous squirts like Mark Sanford to shame. Because of his name and because of his era he could keep going in public life and continue to work not only to make America what he thought it should be but to become what he should be as well.
When I look to Kennedy as a role model (in some things, not all, surely) it is because I see an example of someone who grew up. Lions are made, not born, and as I scamper around like a dumb cub swatting at toys and losing my balance, I feel hope that with perseverance and self-correction I can become who I am supposed to be. No matter how painful life’s discipline may be we have a choice to be broken or a choice to continue becoming. The elder Kennedy had become someone who was truly admirable, someone who had refined his message and knew for what he was fighting.
Nowadays public figures have to be perfect all the time. There’s no place for a sordid history, and those who hope to live in the public eye need to start preparing for it in childhood. There can be no smear or blemish, because all of the rest of we damaged people won’t allow that in our heroes. I, for one, relish the opportunity to celebrate a damaged, sinful hero. We don’t have to ignore the sinfulness to admire the goodness of someone who had the good fortune and the grace to mature.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Health Care, Soundbytes, and Talking to a Dining Room Table
Barney Frank was my first taste of Massachusetts politics. I heard him speak at BC during September of my freshman year. He made a snarky comment about Jerry Falwell and I laughed loudly, to the shock and disapproval of my fellow students who seemed to think that being impressive had to involve being prim.
In other words, it was love at first snark. Because of this, I follow him with great attention, although he manages to get attention all on his own and I don't usually have to look very far to find one of his soundbytes or quips. The clip I have posted is pretty soundbytey, but I suggest taking a look at the footage over at NECN, which paints a much more thorough picture and which, most importantly, includes the entirety of the question that Frank's interlocutor asks.
I haven't really been following the health care debate. Yesterday I heard the man behind me at the grocery story shouting into his phone "Don't you think it's a shame that all the other G8 countries provide health care?" and I knew he had to be getting his information from somewhere. It's a shame that most of our sources are so absurd: email forwards claiming that taxpayer money will pay for abortion or that the government will decide to pull the plug on old people. As someone who has made peace with the idea of our representative democracy, I am always aghast at people who propose that our elected officials (who are overwhelmingly women and men of good will) have monstrously sinister motives and plans. Don't get me wrong - I don't think politics is perfect, or even always nice. But I do believe that what we have here are groups of people who disagree on the best way to do right by the most people.
The media won't show us that, it's not nearly sexy enough. Talk radio gets us all in a huff, self-righteously defending our 'side'. Then people go to town-hall meetings (the purpose of which continues to elude me - is it really just to have a screaming match?) and they all shout and make good television. What a coup for the TV news. What Larry King doesn't mention in his little clip is that the questioner is quoting Lyndon LaRouche of all people, and I think we all know that there is a special place in the looneybin for LaRouche supporters. So she gets set up as the poster child for the anti-healthcare camp, which isn't fair to the plan's opponents, while Frank looks like a hero for taking an easy shot at someone who really does need to be shot down.
This is interesting and important stuff we are dealing with. Maybe I'm a hopeless optimist, but I think the country is capable of a more sophisticated debate than the one we are being handed. My optimism runs out when I think realistically about whether or not we will ever be presented with enough dispassionate truth and honesty to really understand what these conflicts are about.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Traditionalism and Outrage Overload
Two recent thoughts from watching TV:
I fear that I am genetically pre-disposed to prefer "the way things used to be". I try to fight that internally (are rotary phones really superior to cell phones, or am I just being nostalgic?), but occasionally something jumps out at me that I really wish were "the way it used to be." Oddly, last night I realized that I really wish that pharmaceutical companies were still not able to advertise on TV. I find their ads manipulative and fear-mongering.
I've also been more and more overcome by watching news coverage of political blowhards huffing and puffing over bank bailouts. Putting aside the fact that by providing bailouts they were funding 'business-as-usual' and that many of these banks were forced to take government money even if they didn't want it, at a most basic level I find their grandstanding so ugly.
While I was chopping vegetables last night with the news on in the background, it hit me why this bothers me so much: this cheapens outrage. Outrage is precious and powerful and should be reserved for the things that are truly, deeply, offensive. Outrage should not be used to put on a show. The few occasions I have become profoundly outraged it has been ugly. I certainly wouldn't want to go put that on display. But the handful of things that turn me inside-out with rage have been so intense that they have caused a shift in me: a change of life or a change of heart.
So politicians, listen to me. The financial sector has been broken (and truly outrageous) for a long time. You know that, and you shouldn't have expected a magic change there. Your posturing is transparent and obnoxious. Don't cheapen such a powerful human emotion by faking it when the cameras are on.
I fear that I am genetically pre-disposed to prefer "the way things used to be". I try to fight that internally (are rotary phones really superior to cell phones, or am I just being nostalgic?), but occasionally something jumps out at me that I really wish were "the way it used to be." Oddly, last night I realized that I really wish that pharmaceutical companies were still not able to advertise on TV. I find their ads manipulative and fear-mongering.
I've also been more and more overcome by watching news coverage of political blowhards huffing and puffing over bank bailouts. Putting aside the fact that by providing bailouts they were funding 'business-as-usual' and that many of these banks were forced to take government money even if they didn't want it, at a most basic level I find their grandstanding so ugly.
While I was chopping vegetables last night with the news on in the background, it hit me why this bothers me so much: this cheapens outrage. Outrage is precious and powerful and should be reserved for the things that are truly, deeply, offensive. Outrage should not be used to put on a show. The few occasions I have become profoundly outraged it has been ugly. I certainly wouldn't want to go put that on display. But the handful of things that turn me inside-out with rage have been so intense that they have caused a shift in me: a change of life or a change of heart.
So politicians, listen to me. The financial sector has been broken (and truly outrageous) for a long time. You know that, and you shouldn't have expected a magic change there. Your posturing is transparent and obnoxious. Don't cheapen such a powerful human emotion by faking it when the cameras are on.
Friday, January 16, 2009
The speeches are piling up, and I am in the weeds.
Here's some thoughts, more abbreviated than I had hoped, on the three speeches this week.
State of the City: Savvy self-promotion. Menino mentioned a lot of ways that the city got out in front of the economic crisis, working to reduce foreclosures and strengthen neighborhoods. He also announced that for the first time in decades Boston's population is over...600,000! We have got to be the smallest big city in the world. There's a real blessing in that, because the city government can focus on changing things block by block, school by school. They don't have as big a big picture. It's nice to live in a city where a major speech focuses on helping those who are struggling, rather than punishing them.
State of the State: If reviewing a Menino address must by definition focus on content, Patrick's speeches allow us to savor his style. Every time I hear him speak I get goosebumps. The speech was short because Bush's was coming up, but was hopeful and had a handful of decent reform points. It takes a brave man to give a shout out to CORI reform.
Bush's farewell address: Self-aggrandizing, which was to be expected. His bit about good and evil in the world gave me goosebumps too, but not in a good way, in a scary way. What about the line between good and evil running through every human heart? Clearly not. He really thinks that American force was wholly in the right. Just because the actions against us on 9/11 were evil do not make our actions good. I also think the ideology of the Bush Doctrine is complete and total hogwash, which is why I have had trouble listening to any administration speeches on foreign policy.
In other news, I have had stomach trouble all week. I came up with a few guesses why this might be occuring:
1. I have stomach cancer
2. My pharmacist is poisoning my reflux meds
3. I have esophageal cancer
4. I have an ulcer
5. I have colon cancer
6. I am getting up in the night and eating sharp things in my sleep.
7. I have brain cancer that is making me THINK my stomach hurts.
State of the City: Savvy self-promotion. Menino mentioned a lot of ways that the city got out in front of the economic crisis, working to reduce foreclosures and strengthen neighborhoods. He also announced that for the first time in decades Boston's population is over...600,000! We have got to be the smallest big city in the world. There's a real blessing in that, because the city government can focus on changing things block by block, school by school. They don't have as big a big picture. It's nice to live in a city where a major speech focuses on helping those who are struggling, rather than punishing them.
State of the State: If reviewing a Menino address must by definition focus on content, Patrick's speeches allow us to savor his style. Every time I hear him speak I get goosebumps. The speech was short because Bush's was coming up, but was hopeful and had a handful of decent reform points. It takes a brave man to give a shout out to CORI reform.
Bush's farewell address: Self-aggrandizing, which was to be expected. His bit about good and evil in the world gave me goosebumps too, but not in a good way, in a scary way. What about the line between good and evil running through every human heart? Clearly not. He really thinks that American force was wholly in the right. Just because the actions against us on 9/11 were evil do not make our actions good. I also think the ideology of the Bush Doctrine is complete and total hogwash, which is why I have had trouble listening to any administration speeches on foreign policy.
In other news, I have had stomach trouble all week. I came up with a few guesses why this might be occuring:
1. I have stomach cancer
2. My pharmacist is poisoning my reflux meds
3. I have esophageal cancer
4. I have an ulcer
5. I have colon cancer
6. I am getting up in the night and eating sharp things in my sleep.
7. I have brain cancer that is making me THINK my stomach hurts.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
From USCCB.org
Bishops Congratulate Barack Obama on Historic Election;Urge Him to Defend the Weak, Heal Divisions
WASHINGTON—The U.S. bishops congratulated President-elect Barack Obama, the first African-American elected President of the United States, and called the event "historic" and coming at a difficult time.
"Our country is confronting many uncertainties," the bishops said. "We pray that you will use the powers of your office to meet them with a special concern to defend the most vulnerable among us and heal the divisions in our country and our world. We stand ready to work with you in defense and support of the life and dignity of every human person."
They bishops offered their remarks in a November 4 letter to President-elect Obama from Cardinal Francis George of Chicago, president of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops.The letter follows.
Dear President-elect Obama,
I write to you, in my capacity as President of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, to express our congratulations on your historic election as President of the United States. The people of our country have entrusted you with a great responsibility. As Catholic Bishops, we offer our prayers that God give you strength and wisdom to meet the coming challenges.
Our country is confronting many uncertainties. We pray that you will use the powers of your office to meet them with a special concern to defend the most vulnerable among us and heal the divisions in our country and our world. We stand ready to work with you in defense and support of the life and dignity of every human person.
May God bless you and Vice President-elect Biden as you prepare to assume your duties in service to our country and its citizens.
Sincerely yours,
Francis Cardinal George,
OMI
Archbishop of Chicago
President
WASHINGTON—The U.S. bishops congratulated President-elect Barack Obama, the first African-American elected President of the United States, and called the event "historic" and coming at a difficult time.
"Our country is confronting many uncertainties," the bishops said. "We pray that you will use the powers of your office to meet them with a special concern to defend the most vulnerable among us and heal the divisions in our country and our world. We stand ready to work with you in defense and support of the life and dignity of every human person."
They bishops offered their remarks in a November 4 letter to President-elect Obama from Cardinal Francis George of Chicago, president of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops.The letter follows.
Dear President-elect Obama,
I write to you, in my capacity as President of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, to express our congratulations on your historic election as President of the United States. The people of our country have entrusted you with a great responsibility. As Catholic Bishops, we offer our prayers that God give you strength and wisdom to meet the coming challenges.
Our country is confronting many uncertainties. We pray that you will use the powers of your office to meet them with a special concern to defend the most vulnerable among us and heal the divisions in our country and our world. We stand ready to work with you in defense and support of the life and dignity of every human person.
May God bless you and Vice President-elect Biden as you prepare to assume your duties in service to our country and its citizens.
Sincerely yours,
Francis Cardinal George,
OMI
Archbishop of Chicago
President
I'm happy
This is rambly, and on a topic I have deliberately tried to avoid all fall.
This is the first time in a long time that everything I voted for ended up going with the majority (including the ballot questions). I know there are a lot of folks out there looking to rain on our parade by criticizing the system, the candidates, the electoral college, etc. Yes, the system is broken, and no, I don’t think Barack Obama is somehow going to magically fix it, but I am choosing to deal with the brokenness and simply be happy with the results.
Dear friends had a party last night to watch the polls come in, but a combination of fatigue, avoidance of loud crowds, and desire to scream at the television kept me from staying very long up in Somerville. I went home and watched the rest of the polls come in on the futon, by myself, in the quiet. What can I say? It was nice.
I have wanted to see a female president for a long time, and supported Hillary Clinton in the primaries for that reason and because I simply thought she had more experience. I can say that it is thrilling to see an African-American President, the child of an immigrant, someone of humble beginnings. It’s easy to forgot that most of the country looks at our long list of white male presidents (like the one that is on my “Presidents of the United States” coffee mug) and sees people who they can’t relate to. There are people who poo-poo that sentiment, implying that it shouldn’t matter to people whether there leaders are white or black, male or female. Still, who we look at, who we look up to – those things matter.
And it matters that people of competence are allowed to shine. Yes, when I see Sarah Palin I see someone who looks like me (a hotter, older version of me), but I don’t get the sense that her values, or her idea of competence, is the same as mine. It’s not simply enough to have leaders who are of women, or who are different races. Speaking of my own experience, in my life I have wanted to be excellent in thinking, speaking, reading and writing. I have wanted to have knowledge. I have wanted to have morals that I could articulate and have wanted to be a leader who would encourage other people to live lives that are good. And who were the leaders I could look up to who had done that? George Washington, Martin Luther King Jr, Pope John XXIII. Good men, all, but men. With each election I see more women who I can look at and think “Wow, maybe I can do that. Maybe I can be the type of leader I want to be,” which is not to say I necessarily seek elected office. But every year, despite the setbacks, it becomes more and more OK for women to be strong, to be fighters, to be opinionated. That is hopeful for me.
Barack Obama’s election gives that same hope to other people. Here is a good man, who seems to want to do the right thing, who ‘works hard and plays by the rules’ as they say. And he looks like a large group of people who have never been represented in that way before. Like I said, it’s not perfect, but at least it’s above average.
This is the first time in a long time that everything I voted for ended up going with the majority (including the ballot questions). I know there are a lot of folks out there looking to rain on our parade by criticizing the system, the candidates, the electoral college, etc. Yes, the system is broken, and no, I don’t think Barack Obama is somehow going to magically fix it, but I am choosing to deal with the brokenness and simply be happy with the results.
Dear friends had a party last night to watch the polls come in, but a combination of fatigue, avoidance of loud crowds, and desire to scream at the television kept me from staying very long up in Somerville. I went home and watched the rest of the polls come in on the futon, by myself, in the quiet. What can I say? It was nice.
I have wanted to see a female president for a long time, and supported Hillary Clinton in the primaries for that reason and because I simply thought she had more experience. I can say that it is thrilling to see an African-American President, the child of an immigrant, someone of humble beginnings. It’s easy to forgot that most of the country looks at our long list of white male presidents (like the one that is on my “Presidents of the United States” coffee mug) and sees people who they can’t relate to. There are people who poo-poo that sentiment, implying that it shouldn’t matter to people whether there leaders are white or black, male or female. Still, who we look at, who we look up to – those things matter.
And it matters that people of competence are allowed to shine. Yes, when I see Sarah Palin I see someone who looks like me (a hotter, older version of me), but I don’t get the sense that her values, or her idea of competence, is the same as mine. It’s not simply enough to have leaders who are of women, or who are different races. Speaking of my own experience, in my life I have wanted to be excellent in thinking, speaking, reading and writing. I have wanted to have knowledge. I have wanted to have morals that I could articulate and have wanted to be a leader who would encourage other people to live lives that are good. And who were the leaders I could look up to who had done that? George Washington, Martin Luther King Jr, Pope John XXIII. Good men, all, but men. With each election I see more women who I can look at and think “Wow, maybe I can do that. Maybe I can be the type of leader I want to be,” which is not to say I necessarily seek elected office. But every year, despite the setbacks, it becomes more and more OK for women to be strong, to be fighters, to be opinionated. That is hopeful for me.
Barack Obama’s election gives that same hope to other people. Here is a good man, who seems to want to do the right thing, who ‘works hard and plays by the rules’ as they say. And he looks like a large group of people who have never been represented in that way before. Like I said, it’s not perfect, but at least it’s above average.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Last night at the Green Dragon
Out with friends last night, they insisted that they were not important enough to make the blog. I'm here to prove them wrong.
At one point Brian turned to me and said "can we be cocky for a second?" I thought to myself, he's going to want to play 'who'll be in Barack's cabinet'. I was right.
Keith announced that if he had a website it would be a picture of a bird and a politician (as opposed to my glamorous site).
Alison made the mistake of disagreeing with us on one of the ballot questions for next week. We made her pay for that. Sorry about that, Alison.
And speaking of the Green Dragon, did you know that Paul Revere was a drunk who fell off of his horse in Arlington and never made it to Lexington and Concord?
At one point Brian turned to me and said "can we be cocky for a second?" I thought to myself, he's going to want to play 'who'll be in Barack's cabinet'. I was right.
Keith announced that if he had a website it would be a picture of a bird and a politician (as opposed to my glamorous site).
Alison made the mistake of disagreeing with us on one of the ballot questions for next week. We made her pay for that. Sorry about that, Alison.
And speaking of the Green Dragon, did you know that Paul Revere was a drunk who fell off of his horse in Arlington and never made it to Lexington and Concord?
Monday, September 22, 2008
I miss The West Wing
Maureen Dowd's column occasionally makes me a bit uncomfortable, but I think today's is brilliant.
Aaron Sorkin conjures a meeting of Obama and Bartlet
I particularly liked this observation:
If you excelled academically and are able to casually use 690 SAT words then you might as well have the press shoot video of you giving the finger to the Statue of Liberty while the Dixie Chicks sing the University of the Taliban fight song.
Aaron Sorkin conjures a meeting of Obama and Bartlet
I particularly liked this observation:
If you excelled academically and are able to casually use 690 SAT words then you might as well have the press shoot video of you giving the finger to the Statue of Liberty while the Dixie Chicks sing the University of the Taliban fight song.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Executive Experience
So Sarah Palin is going to be McCain's running mate. Whoopideedoo.
It has always bugged me that governors are put on a pedestal when it comes to running for President. Yes, they have "executive experience". But as far as I can tell, Senators get a fair amount of experience in government as well.
Today I heard John McCain highlight all of Palin's "executive experience" and he included her time on the PTA. Give me a break. By that standard, I am already building my Vice-Presidential résumé. When I am Chelsea Clinton's running mate in 2028 she can tout that I was Governor of Connecticut & Rhode Island, Archbishop of Boston, shift manager at an Arby's franchise and President of Boston Opera Collaborative.
The video below has Tom thinking that he has a shot in 2028 as well.
Listen closely for a Whalers reference.
It has always bugged me that governors are put on a pedestal when it comes to running for President. Yes, they have "executive experience". But as far as I can tell, Senators get a fair amount of experience in government as well.
Today I heard John McCain highlight all of Palin's "executive experience" and he included her time on the PTA. Give me a break. By that standard, I am already building my Vice-Presidential résumé. When I am Chelsea Clinton's running mate in 2028 she can tout that I was Governor of Connecticut & Rhode Island, Archbishop of Boston, shift manager at an Arby's franchise and President of Boston Opera Collaborative.
The video below has Tom thinking that he has a shot in 2028 as well.
Listen closely for a Whalers reference.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
I have no recollection of why we were there, but when Bill Clinton spoke during convention four years ago the whole gang was watching in the Paraclete dining room. As soon as we heard the beautiful sounds of "Don't stop thinking about tomorrow" as he walked out, we all had a moment of silence for the President we loved.
Maybe it's a function of my age, my susceptibility to good oratory, or my progressive tendencies, but I long ago drank the Kool-Aid on the Clinton Administration. Don't get me wrong: I love marital fidelity and honesty, but the faults of the man in those regards couldn't outweigh how much I agreed with the work done during his Presidency (his inaction in Rwanda being the notable exception).
When his introducer yesterday was rambling off the positive economic statistics that went along with his Presidency, I couldn't help but feel like I was watching one of those episodes of The West Wing in which President Bartlet gives himself a pep-talk by reminding himself how many jobs he created and how many kids have health insurance. (I'm thinking particularly of the scene when he's talking to himself just before the press conference at the end of Season 2. RIP Mrs. Landingham.)
I thought Beau Biden's intro had the perfect "gotcha" moment when he revealed his father's speech impediment. The subtext was definitely "Remember all those times you made fun of my dad for his gaffes? WELL HE HAS A STUTTER! Don't you all feel like jerks". Regardless of whether anyone felt like a jerk, Biden the elder went on to give a pretty impressive speech that got 'em all weeping. His mom looks like a real pistol too.
Maybe it's a function of my age, my susceptibility to good oratory, or my progressive tendencies, but I long ago drank the Kool-Aid on the Clinton Administration. Don't get me wrong: I love marital fidelity and honesty, but the faults of the man in those regards couldn't outweigh how much I agreed with the work done during his Presidency (his inaction in Rwanda being the notable exception).
When his introducer yesterday was rambling off the positive economic statistics that went along with his Presidency, I couldn't help but feel like I was watching one of those episodes of The West Wing in which President Bartlet gives himself a pep-talk by reminding himself how many jobs he created and how many kids have health insurance. (I'm thinking particularly of the scene when he's talking to himself just before the press conference at the end of Season 2. RIP Mrs. Landingham.)
I thought Beau Biden's intro had the perfect "gotcha" moment when he revealed his father's speech impediment. The subtext was definitely "Remember all those times you made fun of my dad for his gaffes? WELL HE HAS A STUTTER! Don't you all feel like jerks". Regardless of whether anyone felt like a jerk, Biden the elder went on to give a pretty impressive speech that got 'em all weeping. His mom looks like a real pistol too.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday night of the convention
Bill Clinton finds limitless ways to draw attention to himself (crying? Really?), Rahm Emanuel may have been a little drunk, and Mark Warner puts a lot of faith in the success of the Chevy Volt.
I know Hillary was the big story last night, but I was excited to hear Deval Patrick. Even though he was in the hot spot between Warner and Clinton, the only station that ran his speech was the Fox network station, because they ran it live during the 10 pm news. I think that Patrick is an extraordinary speaker, although I have to wonder if he quoted Barney Frank on a dare. The first time I heard him speak live, he happened to be speaking with another “skinny guy with a funny name from Chicago” (his words).
Not only did most of the networks (including PBS!) ditch Deval, CBS actually interviewed Mitt Romney during Patrick’s speech. Offensive!
I can’t help but remember the fun we had when the DNC was in Boston four years ago. We joked at the time that it was like Spring Break for Democrats. We were out late every night, scoping out famous wonks and trying to crash delegate parties and watching speeches at bars. Most of my friends have that peculiarly New England mentality that seems moderate around here but is phenomenally liberal to the rest of the country. Because I fancy myself open-minded I try to pretend I could at some point in a million years vote Republican, but for that one week I could get excited and say “screw it, I'm partisan!”
I think I’m having that week again.
I know Hillary was the big story last night, but I was excited to hear Deval Patrick. Even though he was in the hot spot between Warner and Clinton, the only station that ran his speech was the Fox network station, because they ran it live during the 10 pm news. I think that Patrick is an extraordinary speaker, although I have to wonder if he quoted Barney Frank on a dare. The first time I heard him speak live, he happened to be speaking with another “skinny guy with a funny name from Chicago” (his words).
Not only did most of the networks (including PBS!) ditch Deval, CBS actually interviewed Mitt Romney during Patrick’s speech. Offensive!
I can’t help but remember the fun we had when the DNC was in Boston four years ago. We joked at the time that it was like Spring Break for Democrats. We were out late every night, scoping out famous wonks and trying to crash delegate parties and watching speeches at bars. Most of my friends have that peculiarly New England mentality that seems moderate around here but is phenomenally liberal to the rest of the country. Because I fancy myself open-minded I try to pretend I could at some point in a million years vote Republican, but for that one week I could get excited and say “screw it, I'm partisan!”
I think I’m having that week again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)