The Body

This is a moving song by a fine Catholic artist, written in response to all that's rocked the Church in recent weeks:

You can read the full story behind it here.

    

Well Known

So, I haven't posted a song on here in a VERY long time...but I just came across this one (through a rather long, strange chain of connections), and it is SO beautiful (both the music and the video) that I can't stop listing to it and just need to share...

"Know Me Well," by Roo Panes (2012)

Well you know me with that ancient gaze 

Stripping down with yesterday's eyes 

You know me as I was you see me as I will be 

And I still had a lot of growing 

When you took me and you shaped me with those hands 

You know me better than myself 

Make me better than I am 

Oh, you know me well 

Know me well 

Know me well 

When I think about my past 

I see our love too many years before you came 

In my hopes and my dreams 

With the wax and the moon wanes 

And you saw what I could be 

Please teach me how to be what I was meant to be 

See without you I was nothing 

But with you can be anything 

Oh, you know me well 

Know me well 

Know me well 

What can I fear 

When I know that I walk by your side 

You're the fortress 

Within which I got nothing to hide 

None can take me 

I'm the tower the world cannot fell 

'Cos I'm stronger 

When I know that you know me well 

Know me well 

Know me well 

Oh, you know me well 

Know me well 

Know me well
  

A Beer with Brigid

I'm a couple days behind in getting this on the blog, but it's such a great song it's still worth posting.  Kevin Heider's, "St. Brigid's Fire," recalls the 6th century Irish saint's famous description of heaven:

     I should like a great lake of beer for the King of Kings.
     I should like the angels of heaven to be drinking it through time eternal.
     I should like excellent meats of belief and pure piety.
     I should like the men of heaven at my house.
     I should like barrels of peace at their disposal.
     I should like for them pitchers of mercy.
     I should like cheerfulness to be their drinking.
     I should like Jesus to be there among them.
     I should like the three Marys of illustrious renown to be with us.
     I should like the people of heaven, the poor, to be gathered around from all parts.

St. Brigid's feast was February 1st...but I think you could still honor her with a pint...

 

  

Trust Your Cape

It's not much of a "video" here...but what a great song!

He did not know he could not fly...so he did...

Caveman

So, first I hear a radio program this morning all about modern folks voluntarily "Living Like a Caveman" (you know, eating raw meat, running barefoot, and pulling their Land Rovers around with a rope--that sort of thing),  and then I see this in the Sunday comics:

Maybe it's time for another wilderness adventure of my own...
 

Walls or Doors?

I heard a great song on the radio this morning, which started off with the thought-provoking lyrics:

       Ever since the world's existed
       There's one thing that is certain
       There are those who build walls
       And those who open doors
       Ah but this my love
       I'm thinking you already knew 

It's called "Walls and Doors," off of a soon-to-be released album by Jackson Browne.  It's translated from the song, "Muros y Puertas," by Cuban singer/ songwriter Carlos Varela.  You can find all the (English) lyrics here, and listen to the song here.  

 

Nature

You know my fondness for the great outdoors.  Nonetheless, I was smiling pretty widely listening to this musical commentary on all that's wrong with being in nature on Garrison Keiller's Prairie Home Companion last evening.  (Go here and click on "Nature Hymns.")  I hope you enjoy these not-so-traditonal songs...
 

If We All Light Up

I heard this on the radio this evening...and it's great...

"Scare Away The Dark"

Passenger (Michael Rosenberg)

Well, sing, sing at the top of your voice,

Love without fear in your heart.

Feel, feel like you still have a choice

If we all light up we can scare away the dark

We wish our weekdays away

Spend our weekends in bed

Drink ourselves stupid

And work ourselves dead

And all just because that's what mom and dad said we should do

We should run through the forest

We should swim in the streams

We should laugh, we should cry,

We should love, we should dream

We should stare at the stars and not just the screens

You should hear what I'm saying and know what it means

To sing, sing at the top of your voice,

Love without fear in your heart.

Feel, feel like you still have a choice

If we all light up we can scare away the dark

Well, we wish we were happier, thinner and fitter,

We wish we weren't losers and liars and quitters

We want something more not just nasty and bitter

We want something real not just hash tags and Twitter

It's the meaning of life and it's streamed live on YouTube

But I bet Gangnam Style will still get more views

We're scared of drowning, flying and shooters

But we're all slowly dying in front of computers

So sing, sing at the top of your voice,

Oh, love without fear in your heart.

Can you feel, feel like you still have a choice

If we all light up we can scare away the dark

The End?

I know some people think today will be the end of the world...

...but (quite remarkably) I'm feeling perfectly fine!


 

Attractive

Unlike many, I first came to know of Dave Brubeck precisely because of his religious work (and thus came to an appreciation of jazz) when I read an article in America magazine several years ago.  I've always loved St. Thomas Aquinas' chant, Pange Lingua Gloriosi, so mention of Brubeck's, "Pange Lingua Meditations" (1983), really caught my attention; later on, it was his Mass, "To Hope!  A Celebration" (1980).  I've been listening to both quite a bit in the last few days...

   Second Sunday of Advent   C 

Readings

Dave Brubeck died last Wednesday,
one day shy of his ninety-second birthday.

Most people are remembering him as a modern jazz legend;

far fewer people realize he was an adult convert to the Catholic faith.

Dave Brubeck’s father was a cattle rancher;

his mother gave piano lessons.

His original intention was to follow in dad’s footsteps, not mom’s.

He grew up in a nominally Protestant home,

but Dave was never baptized and religion wasn’t discussed.

His only contact with the Catholic Church as a child

was when a friend—an altar boy—invited him to Mass;

he wasn’t much impressed.

What Dave witnessed as a soldier in World War II

and learned as a liberal arts major in college

got him thinking about religion.

At a time when much of the world was asking, “Is God dead?”

he started thinking, “Something should be done musically

to strengthen man’s knowledge of God.”

Dave was asked in the late 1970’s—

following the revisions of Vatican II—

to compose music for the texts of the Catholic Mass in English.

Reluctant to take the job,

he brushed it off for nearly two years;

since he wasn’t Catholic, he didn’t feel qualified.

After his Mass premiered—to much acclaim—

a priest came up to him and said,
“I loved your Mass, Dave…but you left out the Our Father.”

“What’s the Our Father?” Brubeck replied.  “I’m not a Catholic.”

The priest explained the prayer and it’s importance.

“Well, nobody told me to write it,” he answered, “so I didn't write it.

I'm finished with the Mass,

and going with my family to the Caribbean.”

But on the second night of his vacation, Dave had a dream:

it was the music—orchestra and chorus—for the Our Father.

“I wrote down as much as I could,” he said. 

“And after that dream, I decided I would become a Catholic.”

Although his wife and children didn’t understand it,

Dave Brubeck was baptized in 1980 at the age of 60.

“I joined the Catholic Church,” he would say,

“because I felt, somebody's trying to tell me something.”

What is it that draws people to Christ and to his Church?

                                                                                                               For some folks, it’s a search for truth.

                                                                                                               Take—for instance—John the Baptist 
                                                                                                               and his call to repentance.

Like prophets in any age,

John’s attempt to straighten what is crooked 
and level what is rough

is unvarnished truth-telling.

Informing people of their need for conversion,

that they ought to turn their lives around—

John’s mission still alive in the Church today—

isn’t exactly pretty…but it draws a crowd:

some people merely curious, 
but many eager to hear more.

Even when the answers
to our questions aren’t easy,

the truth has enduring appeal.

For other folks, 
it’s goodness that attracts them.

Saint Paul prays for the Philippians

that “the [God] who began a good work in you
will bring it to completion.”

You’d be hard pressed to find a more
potent, orderly, and genuinely compassionate
charitable organization in the world

than the Catholic Church.

For two millennia, 
we’ve continued to do good—

better yet, we’ve continued to allow God

to accomplish good through us—

because Christ gave us a new commandment:

“Love one another as I love you.” (Jn 13:34)

                                                                                                               Many come to believe 
                                                                                                               because they want to be part of that goodness.

Truth attracts; goodness attracts; and so does beauty.

For centuries, the Church was a leading patron of the arts.

Many of the masterpieces of Western culture—

in painting and sculpture, architecture and music—

were not only inspired, but paid for, by the Catholic Church.

As much as preaching and teaching,

as much as generous works of mercy,

the advancement of beauty was viewed as a vital part

of the Church’s mission.

But not so much anymore.

Oh, it happens with truth and goodness, too;

we’re often satisfied with what’s merely useful or nice.

But I think it’s even more prevalent with beauty these days:

how quick we are to settle for what’s simply cute or fashionable.

We hear the same arguments in the Church 
as in school budget talks:

“The arts are luxuries.

They’re not only non-essential; they’re expensive.”

Such comments bring to mind the gospel question,

“Why all this waste?  
Couldn’t the money be given to the poor?” (Mt 26: 8-9)

Of course, we must recall

that it was Judas who first raised that question…

And so the fundamental place of beauty in our Catholic faith

has been largely neglected of late.

The prophet Baruch points us in a very different direction.

Writing to a people far removed from their native soil—

kept apart from the majesty of the Promised Land,

its holy city and magnificent Temple—

Baruch foresees a day when the Lord will bring them back:

when the desert of their dispersion

will be transformed into a flourishing forest.

“Jerusalem, take off your robe of mourning and misery;

put on the splendor of glory from God forever!”

God’s people will again be at home in beauty.

If it’s the Church’s mission to teach the truth that comes from God;

and if it belongs to the Church to be good as God is good,

then oughtn’t the Church also reflect God’s all-surpassing beauty?

Shouldn’t the splendor of the Lord’s glory shine through us?

That’s why—my friends—our churches

shouldn’t look like other buildings,

but have spires and stained glass

and decorations for feasts and seasons.

That’s why chalices are made of silver or gold,

and why priests wear elegant vestments when offering Mass.

That why the music for the liturgy shouldn’t sound

like what’s playing on our radios and iPods.

In shape, color, and form,

in harmony of proportion and sound,

we are to bring before every human sense

a glimpse of a beauty that is not of this world.

Maybe even more than truth and goodness,

real beauty attracts.

Did it not once invade the dreams of a modern jazz pianist?

Beauty’s a part of the new evangelization

that we must take care not to neglect.  
(cf. Synod on the New Evangelization, prop. 20)

We expect our Church’s teaching to be true.

We expect our Church’s actions to be good.

(And when they fall short of these expectations,

it’s a scandal—and rightly so.)

Should we not also expect our Church—

especially in its worship of God—

to be truly and undeniably beautiful?

It’s been said that the world

will be saved by beauty.  (cf. F. Dostoyevsky)

Many would say that’s an exaggeration…

…but I bet Dave Brubeck isn’t one of them.

In studying a work of art,

one learns much about the artist who fashioned it.

In what we say and do, in what we sing and play,

in what we design and create,

may the Author of all beauty be revealed—

then all flesh shall see the salvation of God. (cf. Wis 13:3-5; Is 2:31; CCC 2500 ff.)
    

Another Round

Yesterday's post on Beer With Jesus brought in the following response entitled, "Good ole boys, beer drinkers and Jesus":

When the video opened with the shot of the bar and cowboy boots, I had an immediate negative reaction. I have abstained from alcohol all my life and I don’t generally socialize with drinkers, certainly not in bars. This is a good ole boy with a southern drawl, baseball hat, shotgun in the back of his beat-up pickup (with a Confederate flag in the back window), and poor grammar. Doesn’t go to church; smokes, doesn’t pray; doesn’t spend time out in nature communing with God. Voted for Romney or (worse) didn’t bother to vote at all. Doesn’t care about the environment. Not my kind of person. 

But I kept listening. It seems this guy is asking Jesus the same questions I do: What’s on the other side? How did you turn the other cheek to save a sorry sinner like me? Do you hear my prayers? Then, I started to think that this kid is the modern American equivalent of those sinners and tax collectors that Jesus ate and drank with.

I guess maybe this is guy is just like me, after all. By the time the song was finished, I was in tears. 

Thanks for sharing it.

 

A Couple Tall Ones

So...back on Thanksgiving my brother told me he had some "sermon material," and said I should check out this song:



For some of the story behind the song, check this out.

Not too bad...although I guess I always thought of Jesus as more of a wine drinker.
 

The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

I fondly recall my father singing this song (well, the refrain, anyway) when I was a child, with both great affection and great gusto.  Little did I know that I was in such good company: it seems that St. Thérèse of Lisieux used to sing it along with her friends, having learned it from her mother.  The story behind this beautiful French hymn to Our Lady is a rather touching one, and its text seems most appropriate to me on this great solemnity.

The Mother of God's high destiny is ours, as well: to be raised in the full integrity of our humanity--body and soul--to heaven.  Where Mary has gone--now dwelling in complete, eternal union with her divine Son--we long one day to follow.

We sang this (although not nearly as well as Patty Griffin does, who first heard it as a lullaby sung by her French Canadian grandmother) at the end of the holy day Mass here at Notre Dame...

J'irai la voir un jour Au ciel, dans la patrie! Oui, j'irai voir Marie, Ma joie et mon amour.                Au ciel, au ciel, au ciel,                J'irai la voir un jour! J'irai la voir un jour! C'est le cri d'espérance Qui calme ma souffrance Au terrestre séjour. J'irai la voir un jour! J'irai m’unir aux anges, Pour chanter ses louanges Et pour former sa cour. J'irai la voir un jour, Cette Vierge si belle! Bientôt j'irai près d'elle Lui dire mon amour. J'irai la voir un jour! J'irai près de sa trône Recevoir ma couronne Dans l'éternel séjour. J'irai la voir un jour! J'irai, loin de la terre, Sur le coeur de ma Mère Reposer sans retour.

I will go to see her one day, In heaven, in my homeland! Yes, I will go to see Mary, My joy and my love.                To heaven, to heaven, to heaven,                I will go to see her one day! I will go to see her one day! It is the cry of hope That calms my suffering During my earthly stay. I will go to see her one day! I will join myself to the angels In order to sing her praises And to form her court. I will go to see her one day, This Virgin so beautiful! Soon I will go to be near her And tell her of my love. I will go to see her one day! I will go near her throne To receive my crown In eternal rest. I will go to see her one day! I’ll go, far from the earth, To rest without return On my Mother's heart.

Fr. Pierre Janin (1853)

Marching In

Given my early life experience on the farm, I know just what they're thinking: Will there be refreshments after this?  (Expect, maybe, the bull...who's hoping none of his ladies decide to run off with the band.)

Shimmer

I heard this song tonight on NPR's World Cafe.  It's not exactly new...but it's new to me, and I rather like it.  Hope you do, too!

There's a Starbucks

I heard this on NPR this morning:

Great song.  Neat video, too.  Enjoy!

Dégénération

While listening to the great CBC radio show, The Vinyl Café, on my drive to retreat last Sunday afternoon, I heard this GREAT song by the Québecois folk band Mes Aïeux.  (That means, "My Ancestors," by the way.)  I loved the song just for its sound (I guess some of those traditional rhythms are just in my blood), leave alone the few lyrics I was able to grasp while keeping my attention on the thruway.  But reading all the words on this subtitled video...Wow!

I'll be checking these folks out, for sure.

UPDATE:
I've realized that the video I've embedded doesn't have the subtitles.  Sorry!  Turns out, the one with the English lyrics can't be embedded...but you can watch it on here on YouTube.

We Are

About a week ago I tried to embed this video...and I've finally figured out how.  Worth waiting for, in my opinion.  Enjoy...