This little story reminds me of a discussion I was having with my wife a few days ago. We were talking about demon possession, or demon influence, especially concerning some friends of ours who are into Wiccan. So the question is: is there demonic influence in mental illnesses?
I proposed the following solutions:
1) Some mental illness are purely physiological in nature. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
2) Some mental illnesses are exacerbated by demonic activity.
3) Some mental illnesses are not mental illnesses at all, but are demonic activity disguised as mental illnesses.
Certainly having read an article at InsideCatholic about demonic possession, I am much more willing to believe that 3) actually happens.
I wonder which of the three is the case for this gruesome bus beheading and ensuing cannibalism?
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Liturgical Music Concerns
This is the body of the letter I sent to the coordinator of the music ministry at our parish, in regards to a particular piece of tripe we're to sing this weekend.
...
My gripe, this time so important that I feel have to e-mail you my concerns, is with "A Place at the Table" we've selected for our closing song this weekend. I know people know it and seem to like it, but to me it is very disconcerting theologically. I feel that it is a poor song to bring into Mass (or even to consider Catholic for that matter).
Let us consider the lyrics:
For everyone born, a place at the table
For everyone born, clean water and bread
A shelter, a space, a safe place for growing
For everyone born, a star overhead
Okay, that's how it begins, and already I have complaints. What table are we talking about here? The Eucharistic table? I think that message is clear from clean water and bread, but there's a grave difficulty here. Part of it falls back on the "for the many" and "for all" debate--in that Christ's redemptive sacrifice is offered for all but only efficacious for those who are willing to repent and follow Christ's commands--but the concern here is the confusion of what the offer really is.
Consider the parable of the wedding feast (Mt 22:1-14), which ends: But when the king came in to meet the guests he saw a man there not dressed in a wedding garment. He said to him, "My friend, how is it that you came in here without a wedding garment?" But he was reduced to silence. Then the king said to his attendants, "Bind his hands and feet, and cast him into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth."
Consider also, from the sermon on the mount, when Jesus says "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name? Did we not drive out demons in your name? Did we not do mighty deeds in your name?' Then I will declare to them solemnly, 'I never knew you. Depart from me, you evildoers." (Mt7:21-23)
Note that there are conditions that have to be met before one is welcomed at the table. In the parable, the guest needed to be wearing wedding attire, but since he was not, he was refused a place. In the sermon, Jesus is even more explicit: only those who do the will of God will have a place. To simply speak of a place for everyone born to partake unconditionally of the banquet set before mankind is misleading and bad theology.
I also feel it is remarkably naive and outrageous to call the place at the table "a safe place for growing". True, we grow in grace by partaking in the sacraments, most especially the Eucharist, but we are hardly "safe" at the table. (I would digress at this moment that the table cannot be Heaven, if we are to speak of growing, and Heaven is the only place we will truly be safe.) Temptation abounds everyone, and the devil can act within the walls of a church, even at the altar, though it costs him quite a bit to do so. Moreover, to speak of the Eucharistic table as a safe place for growing casts a blanket over the fact that Jesus was crucified in this very sacrifice we're celebrating. When we're at Mass, we are re-presenting that very same sacrifice, the suffering and death Our Lord endured for our sins. Though that act offers to us a path to salvation, I'd hardly characterize it as safe. In addition, when you consider that our calling to the Eucharistic table demands that we be willing to lay down our lives, if need be, in defense of the faith, as so many martyrs have in the past, and as so many people are do so even today around the world--to call the table "safe" spits on the sacrifices made throughout history. The only safety is the security of salvation, and that is only guaranteed if we persevere to the end.
The last line of the verse is simply inane, but has its own dangers. A star overhead? Well, if we are willing to interpret that star as the "bright morning star" that is Jesus (cf Rev 22:16), there's no problem. But there's a lot things this phrase could also mean, and the context is vague enough that the meaning isn't at all clear. There's the pagan notion that every time a child is born, a new star appears in the sky, that is the child's guardian star. Or there is the equating of the self with the divine in comparison to the Star of Bethlehem which marked Jesus' birth. Or are we somehow referring to the fact that every human alive has a guardian angel looking out for him? And the confusion comes: do we mean a distinct star for every person, or one star alone for all people? The former interpretation is probably the most problematic, but is also the most likely because the whole verse follows the line of: each person has his own place, each person gets his own food, each person gets his own space. Thus each person gets his own star. Taking the latter interpretation breaks the symmetry of the verse, and thus is much less likely. If it isn't clear from the text of the song, if you have to take time and do contortions in order to give a proper Catholic reading of the text, then there is something decidably wrong.
Phew. Cleared the first verse. Now let's look at the chorus:
And God will delight
When we are creators of justice and joy
Compassion and peace
And God will delight
When we are creators of justice... justice and joy
Now, there's nothing wrong with seeking justice, joy, compassion, and peace, but there's one word in there that runs sour: creators. We are most certainly not creators of justice, joy, compassion, or peace. All of these come from God. We can be ministers of justice, etc; we can be channels as such. (Think St. Francis' prayer: "Make me a channel of your peace".) But we do not create those things. The sheer hubris, the sheer deification of humanity in such a thought, should make any Christian shudder.
Second verse:
For woman, for man, a place at the table
Revising the roles, deciding the share
With wisdom and grace, dividing the power
For woman and man, a system's that fair
I'm sorry, but I struggle enough with the political hijacking of the liturgy with "inclusive language". I really struggle here with this blatant slap in God's face of the order He created. Now, I understand the intent, and that is ostensibly restoring the order that God created, but the lyrics around that notion are atrocious. We don't revise the roles--we conform to what God presented us. For the most important matters, there's no debate on this. Deciding the share? How is that part of being "at the table"? Coming to the table requires us to leave injustice and sexism and misogyny and power struggles and whatnot behind. It isn't settled at the table; it has to be settled in order to come to the table, else we are like the wedding guest without the proper apparel, who is tossed out. Dividing the power? What power are we even talking about? Political? Social? God's? I'm sorry, but this verse is so obviously agenda-charged and focused especially at the male-only priesthood that it isn't simply bad theology, it is dangerous.
Third verse:
For young and for old, a place at the table,
A voice to be heard, a part in the song,
The hands of a child in hands that are wrinkled,
For young and for old, the right to belong
I don't have too much to gripe about here, other than the last phrase. We don't have any "right" to belong whatsoever, and that's why in particular this song is so terrible. Our existence is completely gratuitous. We have no right to exist; we exist through God's love and by His grace. We have no right to salvation, either. God's offer of forgiveness is also completely gratuitous, and contingent upon our willingness to repent, have faith, love God, and keep His commandments. To suggest there is any "right" to any of this flies in the face of doctrine. It isn't just bad--it is flat out wrong and contradictory to our faith.
Fourth verse:
For just and unjust, a place at the table,
Abuser, abused, with need to forgive,
In anger, in hurt, a mindset of mercy,
For just and unjust, a new way to live
And the same ugly problems just keep rearing their heads. There is no place at the table for the unjust or the abuser. There is only a place when the unjust renounces the injustice, and the abuser repents of his abuse.
Fifth verse:
For everyone born, a place at the table,
To live without fear, and simply to be,
To work, to speak out, to witness and worship,
For everyone born, the right to be free
Once again, that whole "right" thing that is bad theology. The only freedom that fits with Catholic doctrine is the freedom from sin, the freedom to choose God. There's no right about that. We don't have a right to be free from sin--we have to deliberately choose not to sin. That's the whole point of the free will thing. We choose. There's no right to escape sin no matter what we happen to choose; if we choose to sin, we're going to suffer the consequences.
Ah, but you might argue that this is statement about escaping slavery and oppression and persecution. Well, I'm sorry, but we have no right to be free from those, either. God permits those things to exist for a reason, at the very least because we grow as people and in faith when confronted with dire challenges. Now, we know that it is wrong to enslave, to oppress, and to persecute, but that doesn't grant us any right to escape from them. Consider the final beatitude: "Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you [falsely] because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven." (Mt 5:11-12) Indeed, we are warned several times that we will be persecuted, end of story.
Overall, this song is simply terrible. To quote Lucy Carroll (cf http://www.adoremus.org/0506LucyCarroll.html ), "sort of sounds like a campaign song, doesn't it? (A chicken in every pot!)". Rife with bad theology and inconsistent, contradictory, and confusing messages, it rates as the worst sort of music to use in our worship space. I know I'm being rather vehement about this, but I feel this is incredibly important. If we're singing about things that distort the message of our faith, that proclaim rewriting the order God has made, that claim in places roles that only rightfully belong to God, and that completely dispense with our obligation to our Creator (by making a "right" out of everything), then we're singing judgment down on ourselves.
There are many pieces we've sung that I've felt miss the mark or get something wrong theologically, but haven't felt concerned enough to object. This piece, though, is so contrary to our faith, though, that I cannot help but protest.
I would ask that this piece never be considered again for liturgy.
...
My gripe, this time so important that I feel have to e-mail you my concerns, is with "A Place at the Table" we've selected for our closing song this weekend. I know people know it and seem to like it, but to me it is very disconcerting theologically. I feel that it is a poor song to bring into Mass (or even to consider Catholic for that matter).
Let us consider the lyrics:
For everyone born, a place at the table
For everyone born, clean water and bread
A shelter, a space, a safe place for growing
For everyone born, a star overhead
Okay, that's how it begins, and already I have complaints. What table are we talking about here? The Eucharistic table? I think that message is clear from clean water and bread, but there's a grave difficulty here. Part of it falls back on the "for the many" and "for all" debate--in that Christ's redemptive sacrifice is offered for all but only efficacious for those who are willing to repent and follow Christ's commands--but the concern here is the confusion of what the offer really is.
Consider the parable of the wedding feast (Mt 22:1-14), which ends: But when the king came in to meet the guests he saw a man there not dressed in a wedding garment. He said to him, "My friend, how is it that you came in here without a wedding garment?" But he was reduced to silence. Then the king said to his attendants, "Bind his hands and feet, and cast him into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth."
Consider also, from the sermon on the mount, when Jesus says "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name? Did we not drive out demons in your name? Did we not do mighty deeds in your name?' Then I will declare to them solemnly, 'I never knew you. Depart from me, you evildoers." (Mt7:21-23)
Note that there are conditions that have to be met before one is welcomed at the table. In the parable, the guest needed to be wearing wedding attire, but since he was not, he was refused a place. In the sermon, Jesus is even more explicit: only those who do the will of God will have a place. To simply speak of a place for everyone born to partake unconditionally of the banquet set before mankind is misleading and bad theology.
I also feel it is remarkably naive and outrageous to call the place at the table "a safe place for growing". True, we grow in grace by partaking in the sacraments, most especially the Eucharist, but we are hardly "safe" at the table. (I would digress at this moment that the table cannot be Heaven, if we are to speak of growing, and Heaven is the only place we will truly be safe.) Temptation abounds everyone, and the devil can act within the walls of a church, even at the altar, though it costs him quite a bit to do so. Moreover, to speak of the Eucharistic table as a safe place for growing casts a blanket over the fact that Jesus was crucified in this very sacrifice we're celebrating. When we're at Mass, we are re-presenting that very same sacrifice, the suffering and death Our Lord endured for our sins. Though that act offers to us a path to salvation, I'd hardly characterize it as safe. In addition, when you consider that our calling to the Eucharistic table demands that we be willing to lay down our lives, if need be, in defense of the faith, as so many martyrs have in the past, and as so many people are do so even today around the world--to call the table "safe" spits on the sacrifices made throughout history. The only safety is the security of salvation, and that is only guaranteed if we persevere to the end.
The last line of the verse is simply inane, but has its own dangers. A star overhead? Well, if we are willing to interpret that star as the "bright morning star" that is Jesus (cf Rev 22:16), there's no problem. But there's a lot things this phrase could also mean, and the context is vague enough that the meaning isn't at all clear. There's the pagan notion that every time a child is born, a new star appears in the sky, that is the child's guardian star. Or there is the equating of the self with the divine in comparison to the Star of Bethlehem which marked Jesus' birth. Or are we somehow referring to the fact that every human alive has a guardian angel looking out for him? And the confusion comes: do we mean a distinct star for every person, or one star alone for all people? The former interpretation is probably the most problematic, but is also the most likely because the whole verse follows the line of: each person has his own place, each person gets his own food, each person gets his own space. Thus each person gets his own star. Taking the latter interpretation breaks the symmetry of the verse, and thus is much less likely. If it isn't clear from the text of the song, if you have to take time and do contortions in order to give a proper Catholic reading of the text, then there is something decidably wrong.
Phew. Cleared the first verse. Now let's look at the chorus:
And God will delight
When we are creators of justice and joy
Compassion and peace
And God will delight
When we are creators of justice... justice and joy
Now, there's nothing wrong with seeking justice, joy, compassion, and peace, but there's one word in there that runs sour: creators. We are most certainly not creators of justice, joy, compassion, or peace. All of these come from God. We can be ministers of justice, etc; we can be channels as such. (Think St. Francis' prayer: "Make me a channel of your peace".) But we do not create those things. The sheer hubris, the sheer deification of humanity in such a thought, should make any Christian shudder.
Second verse:
For woman, for man, a place at the table
Revising the roles, deciding the share
With wisdom and grace, dividing the power
For woman and man, a system's that fair
I'm sorry, but I struggle enough with the political hijacking of the liturgy with "inclusive language". I really struggle here with this blatant slap in God's face of the order He created. Now, I understand the intent, and that is ostensibly restoring the order that God created, but the lyrics around that notion are atrocious. We don't revise the roles--we conform to what God presented us. For the most important matters, there's no debate on this. Deciding the share? How is that part of being "at the table"? Coming to the table requires us to leave injustice and sexism and misogyny and power struggles and whatnot behind. It isn't settled at the table; it has to be settled in order to come to the table, else we are like the wedding guest without the proper apparel, who is tossed out. Dividing the power? What power are we even talking about? Political? Social? God's? I'm sorry, but this verse is so obviously agenda-charged and focused especially at the male-only priesthood that it isn't simply bad theology, it is dangerous.
Third verse:
For young and for old, a place at the table,
A voice to be heard, a part in the song,
The hands of a child in hands that are wrinkled,
For young and for old, the right to belong
I don't have too much to gripe about here, other than the last phrase. We don't have any "right" to belong whatsoever, and that's why in particular this song is so terrible. Our existence is completely gratuitous. We have no right to exist; we exist through God's love and by His grace. We have no right to salvation, either. God's offer of forgiveness is also completely gratuitous, and contingent upon our willingness to repent, have faith, love God, and keep His commandments. To suggest there is any "right" to any of this flies in the face of doctrine. It isn't just bad--it is flat out wrong and contradictory to our faith.
Fourth verse:
For just and unjust, a place at the table,
Abuser, abused, with need to forgive,
In anger, in hurt, a mindset of mercy,
For just and unjust, a new way to live
And the same ugly problems just keep rearing their heads. There is no place at the table for the unjust or the abuser. There is only a place when the unjust renounces the injustice, and the abuser repents of his abuse.
Fifth verse:
For everyone born, a place at the table,
To live without fear, and simply to be,
To work, to speak out, to witness and worship,
For everyone born, the right to be free
Once again, that whole "right" thing that is bad theology. The only freedom that fits with Catholic doctrine is the freedom from sin, the freedom to choose God. There's no right about that. We don't have a right to be free from sin--we have to deliberately choose not to sin. That's the whole point of the free will thing. We choose. There's no right to escape sin no matter what we happen to choose; if we choose to sin, we're going to suffer the consequences.
Ah, but you might argue that this is statement about escaping slavery and oppression and persecution. Well, I'm sorry, but we have no right to be free from those, either. God permits those things to exist for a reason, at the very least because we grow as people and in faith when confronted with dire challenges. Now, we know that it is wrong to enslave, to oppress, and to persecute, but that doesn't grant us any right to escape from them. Consider the final beatitude: "Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you [falsely] because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven." (Mt 5:11-12) Indeed, we are warned several times that we will be persecuted, end of story.
Overall, this song is simply terrible. To quote Lucy Carroll (cf http://www.adoremus.org/0506LucyCarroll.html ), "sort of sounds like a campaign song, doesn't it? (A chicken in every pot!)". Rife with bad theology and inconsistent, contradictory, and confusing messages, it rates as the worst sort of music to use in our worship space. I know I'm being rather vehement about this, but I feel this is incredibly important. If we're singing about things that distort the message of our faith, that proclaim rewriting the order God has made, that claim in places roles that only rightfully belong to God, and that completely dispense with our obligation to our Creator (by making a "right" out of everything), then we're singing judgment down on ourselves.
There are many pieces we've sung that I've felt miss the mark or get something wrong theologically, but haven't felt concerned enough to object. This piece, though, is so contrary to our faith, though, that I cannot help but protest.
I would ask that this piece never be considered again for liturgy.
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