Peace in our time

“Would that you, even you, had known the things that make for peace!”

These words were uttered by Our Lord as he gazed on Jerusalem, the City of Peace; the hope of a long estranged people, the harbor of faith, and the place of the mercy seat: the Temple.

Would that we, even we, should know the things that make for peace.

But we don’t.

Jesus words ring not only as a lament for His Kingdom’s namesake city, but also for all cities. Who has known the things that made for peace?

The philosophers of countless ages have sought through political, rhetorical, spiritual, and scientific inquiry to establish what made for peace. They have held up moderation, good habits (ethics), political structure, moralism, relativism, fascism, communism, democracy, republics, monarchies, empires, tribes, clans, families, and egoism, amongst any number of other ideas and tactics to achieve peace.

The substantial instigating plot element of the Avengers movie series has been a simple little mantra, perhaps only explicitly voiced in Ultron by Tony Stark: “Peace in our time”. The promise of the end of war, political prosperity; universal health, wealth, and justice for all. The films then play out the consequence of that hope, and beg audiences to debate over whose version of achieving piece, or at least pursuing the good of mankind, is more soundly premised in “Civil War”.

But I digress; this isn’t about the Avengers, but good storytelling does stab to the heart of human worries and cares.

What then can make for peace? In recent memory the internet has been flooded with news stories of violence. Whether incited by terrorists, madmen, gangs, crusaders, or those we trust to protect us, there doesn’t seem to be a time when we are not regaled with the tales of the atrocities our race can commit.

At every turn the internet rises up to combat these crises; whether it does so with despair, anger, vengeance, calls for change, or with self-righteousness depends mostly on whether or not the atrocity has the right tags or threads to incite a given group. We are informed more and more vehemently that it is not acceptable that such violence occurs, and that something must change or we will face increasing peril.

The cry rings out ‘Peace!’ and the silence echoes back ‘how?’

We all sit in consternated fury, knitting our brow and reveling in how wrong everyone is about what is wrong with our country, the world, and everyone else; all the while begging the same answer as those we disagree with. We yell, ‘No! Peace!’ and the silence greets us with a low demonic ‘ha, how?’

We, because of our ready access to a panoply of humankind and a wealth of its news and stories, see the death wreaking havoc on every hand. All of our plans and schema fall away and we see the one abiding law of this world: All things are dying.

It’s a dominant theory, expressed in the law of thermodynamics. Many renowned physicists project an inevitable end to all life in the universe, although we can’t pinpoint when. Entropy defines every creature. We want law, but we ignore the one abiding law of man: he dies. We cry for peace, but we always strive for it with swords and barbs against our own brothers. We want change, but we, given time, revert back to the same systems and corruptions, across human history.

We look to the actions of a few foolish, scared, deceived, or evil men and say “see! We can no longer trust them, one of them killed someone!” As if we expected to find a human being capable of not sowing the seeds of his own destruction. We want to make the whole only as strong as its weakest link but we fail to recognize our complicity in expecting anything more than weakness.

If only, we say, we knew the things that make for peace!

We have chosen our bed, and are laid to rest thereupon. The first death amongst mankind came not to the first man Adam, but to his son, Abel. Our race marked our path in the curse with the blood of our brothers, and we have spilled that blood ever since. The blood of our brothers screams from the ground, begging the heavens for justice.

We stagger under the weight of the guilt of tragedies of our world. Any man’s death diminishes us, because we are involved in mankind. The bell has always tolled for us and every knell calls us to our own funeral. We are dead and lost with all the world, caught up in our nature with the Devil and all his band.

But, why would Jesus even ask this of Jerusalem? Why weep for this sad and depraved creation fallen so far from His divine command?

“Would that you, even you, had known the things that make for peace!” Jesus says, standing on a hill outside the city. This is the beginning of Passiontide, and Jesus is entering the city knowing the bloodthirsty rabble waits inside for him. Knowing that they, even they who beg for deliverance from oppression, will turn on their True Brother, shedding His precious blood all the way from the Praetorium, through the streets, onto the bloody hill of Golgotha.

Jesus knows the things that make for peace. He mourns the city that would not know her God, and then enters to be the Prince of Peace. Not by bringing about a restored glorious kingdom of Israel, not by preaching a message of defiance against evil, but by offering a sprinkling of Blood that would speak better things than that of Abel. The city named peace rises up in furor and strikes the Masters heel. The hill of the temple, where people no longer sought peace, was traded for the blood-stained place of the skull.

Our Peace was suspended between earth and heaven, outside the city gates. He was forcibly removed from the place of peace; ejected from the temple mount, the very presence of God’s abiding mercy, and was left to suffer all of Hell’s torments.

Peace died on the cross, surrounded by vagabonds, scoundrels and foes, amid the deriding jeering of his enemies.

But Peace, our Peace, did not stay dead.

Our Lord, Jesus Christ, having laid down His life as a perfect peace offering, takes it back up again to reign forever as our King. Christ knew the cost of peace. It was not a brilliant philosophy; or a great war to end all wars; or even a team of supercharged altruists ready to save the day. What made, makes, and will make for our peace, is His Sacrifice. Our homes were plagued with Death, but Christ has marked the door with his Blood. Our Paschal Lamb was sacrificed for us, not so that we could strive to perfect creation, but so that we would have strength for our Exodus. This world is not our home, and these trials are fleeting.

We do not mourn as those who have no hope. We do not offer the condolences of dying men. Our death is only the gateway into life immortal.

And so we pray. Do not mock those whose only response to tragedy is prayer. They do more in their love and hope than any planning and scheming for policy or revenge. We call out for love, but the only love to bring us lasting peace is the love of Christ. It is in His Love that we trust. He knows the things that make for peace, and He offers them to us openly: Be washed, renewed and named; Hear His word; Speak the words He has given you; Take, eat and drink. Receive a meal without price, which no sower sowed and for which no laborer labored. His cup runneth over and all of the world is invited into the wedding hall, all is made ready. Here, at last, is Peace.

An Italian Inspired Introspectus

In which our hero devotes some thought to himself, an opera, and a Baritone....


This Thursday, I had the distinct delight of accompanying a group spectacular persons to see the Lyric Opera of Chicago. The Opera: Rigoletto. I was familiar with the story and most of the music, however I had never seen a full production of it....

Now, shame of shames, I must admit that, music enthusiast though I be, I had not, until Thursday, seen a full Opera production.
After that disgraceful admission, back to the first line of thought. Let's hope it's still there....

(Which it is!) ....The cast was incredible, with the exception of a lackluster tenor as the Duke. The Soprano -Gilda- soared through the stratosphere and never once were my ears offended. The Bass -Sparafucile- was exactly what you wanted to see and hear, he was big, he was scary, and he could sing that low F so that you didn't hear it, you felt it, in your very soul.

But the star, the crowning jewel of this cast, was the Baritone playing Rigoletto. The gentleman said in the program that he didn't act the character, the character spoke for itself. He said that he, as a father of children Gilda's age, could sympathize with Rigoletto's paranoia, and eventual despair.

(Interjection) If you are unfamiliar with Rigoletto, familiarize yourself, it is perhaps the best opera ever written, full of beautiful music with a story to break your heart.

Back to regularly scheduled ranting-
To say that I cried for Rigoletto's misfortune, would be a gross understatement, I wept. I got teared up just thinking about it right now. This is, in no small part, due to the Baritone. His performance was better than I could express in my few and meager words (let the reader understand). I cried in anticipation of his suffering, I cried for his fate as a cripple, I cried for his dead wife. Plot elements that I usually just absorb and shove into the back of my mind for reference, all were made real by that man's performance.

But I said 'Introspectus' didn't I?
Ah yes. Myself. My favorite topic, as always.

Recently I have been doing an inordinate amount of thinking. It has been quite painful actually. I wrote, on this very blog, not long ago about who I am, or who other people think I am. I have always thought that I had a great deal of self awareness. I know why I do things, why I don't do them, why I like or dislike certain things or people on a very base level. That sort of thing I have always thought myself geared for.

I am a planner. I got excited the first time I got a 'week at a glance' schedule for school. I like freedom for the time I have left, but I love the structure. Not that I am highly structured, as you can likely tell by reading my writing.

So then, as it is put, to the heart of the matter.

Thursday was the first time in my life that I have felt  not only an interest in, but a desire to pursue Opera. I do not honestly know if I have the voice for it or not, (But that is for another blog post and more thinking) but I am going to speak with those that I trust on such matters. The other edge of this dagger is what it would mean for me in terms of the future. If I want to do opera, I have to really go for it. I have to plan for it, or not. I am not vain to think that I could perform on the Baritone's level, but that doesn't stop me from trying.

That then is my cause for such elongated introspection. I go back and forth in my mind. I need time, which I do have an abundance of at the moment. But I also need counsel and I am going to seek that in its many and diverse forms.

I would appreciate the prayers of those who are willing or so inclined. Such is the main solace I seek.

And that all just has to do with my contemplations of my music career; my brain is fraying at the edges with all of the other stuff regarding life in general.

I didn't mean for that to go quite so long. I started and I really couldn't stop. Sigh.
Thank you for reading.

No. You're Wrong.

In which our hero avoids the Facebook comment bar like the plague....


If I am particularly possessed of one fault, aside from my vanity, pride, stubbornness etc. It is that I love to argue. By that I do not mean that I actively seek out arguments but if there is something to argue about, I'm there. I am overly argumentative and, often, overly loud. No doubt if you have met me in person you have recognized this. I also have the bad tendency to get frustrated while arguing and to consequently raise my voice to ungodly levels; mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

But, that said, I cannot stand getting in or reading arguments on Facebook/twitter/whatever-other-media-thing-you-use.

It is not that I think that the stuff that is often discussed should not be discussed. However I know that it is all too easy to demonize and dehumanize people on the internet. Even if something is meant to be a discussion between two friends about their personal views, it can quickly turn into two people bickering and writing walls of text at each other. Neither party thinks that they can persuade the other, they both just have to have the last word, and it has to sound cleverer than the other guy's last word.

Sometimes people will post things hoping for an argument. I really can't understand it. Perhaps they are annoyed at someone with whom they have had the same argument. Maybe they are just trying to start a comment war. Either way, someone takes a bite and the days of back and forth start.

Words are excellent things. I think that one of the most important gifts that God has given to man is the ability to read, write, and understand words. Conversation is important, there are times when it is appropriate to discuss ideas and try to reach an understanding or conclusion, or just to learn that you disagree.
One of the problems with the Facebook or blog comment wars is that both parties are set in their ideas, and they both know that the other person is not going to change their mind.

This is not true of normal face to face conversation. Even if neither side agrees on anything, they are less likely to walk away fuming at the other guy for being so obstinate and posting when the argument was 'obviously' over after a comment made at the very beginning. In person it is much easier to argue with a friend and then say to him, "I understand about the food baby Bubba but we're still friends."

When you write an argument down in, relatively, short bursts on the internet it leads to confusion and/or mockery. People willfully misinterpret what people write in order to gain 'points' for their argument. Explaining this misinterpretation takes time, and often while one person is clarifying the other will continue to post word walls. This isn't a one sided thing, most arguments on Facebook include both sides doing this back and forth.

When I watch arguments on Facebook it disturb me. I will watch kind, friendly people speak to each other in a manner which I know they would not use in person.
Once again I will admit that I am deeply guilty of this, a thousand times over. Mea culpa.

Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps the people I like so well, whom I trust to be so friendly to me, no matter what the context, are actually just waiting for me to say the wrong thing and then to spring on me with nasty commentary and sarcastic jabs.... I hope not, or I'm doomed.

Thank you for reading my excessively long monologue... or is it a soliloquy? Maybe it's just another in a never ending succession of internet arguments....

The Symbolic Symbolised Symbolism!

In which our hero plays video games, watches movies, reads books and visits churches....


I love symbolism, I really do; I think it's from spending the time focusing on all the various pieces of symbolism which I was taught as an Acolyte; the hows and whys of what we do.

I don't really want to talk about any particular symbolism... but I might end up doing so before the end of this post. We will see, shan't we?

I think I'll just name one for each category... maybe.

Starting with video games.
The Elder Scrolls: Perhaps my favorite video game series. It doesn't have a lot of real world related symbolism, but the in game wealth of lore is a treasure trove of meaty game-related symbolism. To a certain extent the games do use certain theological or philosophical ideas and they usually have some meaty symbolism attached.

Movies, movies are a wealth of symbolism. They have all the advantage of art, as regards symbolism, but they can present you with thousands of images and they can also include wonderful dialogue that is loaded with symbolism.
V for Vendetta: As regards symbolism in movies, this is a great film. It's a Frank Miller production, and showcases his excellent artistic flair. The movie's symbolism largely relates to the views espoused by the main characters. However, the depth of that symbolism grows out of every aspect of the film.

Books, which in my opinion are the greatest and simplest medium for conveying symbolism. Words are the catalysts of ideas, symbolism usually reflects a story or an event, but all stories and events must first be expressed in words.
I think I'll just make a list... it would take forever to write something distinct for each book.
To name a few: The Chronicles of Narnia (duh); Ender's Game; Harry Potter; LOTR; Animal Farm; just to name a few... there are a lot.

I also love visiting old, and sometimes new, churches. I won't go into details, but know that if I visit your church, I will immediately begin to judge it according to it's level of theological symbolism; judging both it's architecture and it's decor.

So that's my spiel. Hope you find it fun, or useful, or something.