Music As Propaganda

Ideologues seek power. As a means to gain power of human beings, ideologues of various stripes seek to move the masses by means of highly emotional appeals. They cannot have recourse to reason, because the rejection of reason and its openness to the divine Ground of Being is precisely the essence of modern ideology. Surely they use seemingly rational arguments to advance their “causes,” but on investigation, the rational arguments are found to be irrational, and a break from reality, masquerading as true reasoning. Ideologues thrive not on reason, but on excessive emotion. One only need to watch a speech by Hitler, as an example, to observe the low intellectual content, and the very powerful emotional delivery. Using vague symbols loosely, Hitler depends on his emotionally evocative language and his emotionally charged tirade to move the mass audience. And indeed, millions were moved by Hitler’s speeches. His will to power triumphed in the short term, because the masses were moved by his emotional appeals.

At least since perhaps the earliest extremely effective ideological movement in modernity--the Protestant Reformation of the 16th century--one can discover how music has been used as a powerful weapon in the arsenal of ideologues. First, we need to give a little thought to how music achieves its effect in the hearer.

Music has the power to communicate more deeply, I believe, than any other art; it surely communicates emotional reality most effectively. Rational words operate on the intellect of the hearer, and seek to persuade by reasoning from truth to truth--from what is understood to newer, expanded insights. To have effect, words depend on rational understanding. Not so with music. Even meaningless sounds, when put to emotionally charged music, can move the feelings of the hearer, and lead them according to the will of the composer and / or the performing musicians. Indeed, music needs no words at all to communicate, for the sounds themselves, using elements of melody, harmony, rhythm, and texture, operate on the feelings of the hearer. Music has power to quicken one’s heartbeat, breathing, or urge feet and hands to move rhythmically. Beautifully peaceful music can calm one’s emotions, and leave a person feeling tranquil, quieted. Or martial music with its characteristic rhythms can arouse a person to bodily movement--even to marching off to war! The anger and violence so evident in much of pop-rock music arouses anger and a morose spirit in the hearer (and these emotions are often displayed in the young immersed in such music). A well-composed love song operates on the imagination of the hearer, and may remind him or her of the “love of one’s life,” or bring back concrete memories of the beloved, or increase yearning for the beloved’s presence. Music works through moving emotions and imagination.

I cannot think of any major modern mass movement which has not used music to move the masses to the leaders’ will, or to the overall thrust of the ideology. Consider several examples. Luther was not only a theologian of considerable learning, but a gifted composer of hymns. Some of his hymns became, in effect, the battle cries of the Reformation. The best example is his famous “Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott,” “A mighty fortress is our God.” Laced in to its memorable melody (more familiar in Bach’s modifications) are words of questionable rational truth. But these imaginative quite wild words convey Luther’s experience of a world that is radically fallen and needing revolutionary change. For the world, Luther preaches in the music, is “full of devils,” and thereafter a great threat to the person of “faith.” Consider this stanza from Hedge’s translation of Luther’s hymn:
                And though this world, with devils filled,
                should threaten to undo us,
                we will not fear, for God hath willed
                his truth to triumph through us.
                The Prince of Darkness grim,
                we tremble not for him;
                his rage we can endure,
                for lo, his doom is sure;
                one little word shall fell him.

Although the world is “filled with devils,” threatening to undo the believer, a single word of God, a kind of Zauberwort--a Magic Word--can “fell” “the Prince of Darkness” and presumably bring the “believer” temporary respite from demonic attack. In Luther, the “little word” would be a quotation from the Bible. In later ideological movements, the Magic Word to overcome evil may be replaced by Hegel’s “knowledge of dialectics,” or a Marxist’s “revolutionary consciousness in the Proletariat,” or by a fervent “Sieg! Heil!” from a devout Nazi. Magic words, symbols, and music are stock-in-trade for ideological mass movements.

Modern mass movements rely not only on Magic Words and phrases and slogans, but on charming or magically-powerful music to move the masses. Chanting of “Sieg! Heil!” could be sustained only so long; to maintain fervor in the crowds, it was highly useful to break into “Deutschland, Deutschland, ueber alles”--”Germany, Germany, over all,” or perhaps into another nationalistic anthem with which we are less familiar. In the case of “Deutschland ueber alles,” of course, the melody was borrowed from a great composer. The original melody--gentle, sweet, wonderfully varied--was composed by Joseph Haydn as the andante of one of his many string quartets; and for many years after its composition, it was used in a hymn of praise to the Austrian Emperor. In the hands of National Socialist musicians, Haydn’s urbane melody was transmogrified into a powerful sea of sentimental yet martial sound that overwhelms the hearers and stirs them up to “love” the Reich, the People, and the Leader, and of course “to fight” for them. In short, whether in the Reformation or in the Nazi movement--and in movements temporally in between the 16th and the 20th centuries--music has been used as an effective weapon of mass propaganda.

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Christian worship has used music from the beginnings of the Church; the Gospels mention Jesus singing Hebrew psalms, and several of the Apostle Paul’s letters quote from early Christian hymns (the Philippians’ “Christ-Hymn” being the best known). The Hebrew songs and melodies sung by Jesus and the original Jewish Christians were gradually fused with Greek melodies, and no doubt other Gentile music as well. The fusion of Jewish and Greek became preserved in the chants of the Church, especially Ambrosian and Gregorian chant. This enormous body of music, developed over many centuries, comes as close to the Platonic ideal of music sketched out in the Republic as any music of which I am aware: the chants highlight the meaning of the words sung, not mere emotional expression; melodies are simple, easily sung, and unadorned; the music calms the emotions; and the chants aim to lift the soul towards the Good One would be hard pressed to call this music “propaganda,” although one could say that it inculcated the teaching and the spirit of the Catholic faith with noble simplicity. Propaganda dominates, invading the person’s psychic freedom. Gregorian chant, on the other hand, does not dominate the hearer, or overwhelm, but gently and mindfully leads the soul into a quiet union with the unseen God, or simply quiets the passions, and at the same time, builds a bond of spiritual friendship between those singing together. Or so it seems to me.

I do not intend to sketch the history of music in the Church. No doubt, propaganda music emerged in the Church before the 1960’s. (As much as I appreciate the music of J. S. Bach, for example, much of his church compositions express excited energy, and hence energize the psyche.) Our present interest is in the way the secular Progressives, who came to dominate much of Catholic worship and teaching for several decades beginning in the 1960’s, used music to spread its ideology of “changing the world” (borrowing young Marx’s famous phrase). A prime example which has been sung for years now in the Catholic Church in the United States is the song, “City of God.” Set to a melody and rhythm reminiscent of a college drinking song from an earlier era, the words direct the singers to “build the city of God” in the world. Radically unlike Gregorian chant, the thrust of this spirited song is not divine worship or union with Christ effecting peace in the soul, but social action. Comparing “the City of God” to Gregorian Chant, one calls to mind Marx’s famous 11th thesis on Feuerbach: “Philosophers of old merely sought to contemplate the world; the point, however, is to change it.” Gregorian chant proceeds from a contemplative spirit and leads to contemplation; propaganda songs such as “City of God” stir people up to restless action, and in the process, rob the soul of the hearer of what quiet he may have sought in Church.

A good example of music as propaganda in the Catholic Church is the Lenten song “Ashes,” written by Tom Conry. From a few discussions, it seems that parishioners sing the song mindlessly, without attending to the meaning--or lack of meaning--in the words. For the melody is fairly pleasant, a kind of catchy ditty that is neither joyful nor penitential in sound, but what a devout Marxist might call “bourgeois sentimental.” In other words, the melody is a kind of popular, middle-class tune that is “non-threatening” to the hearer. Or in the larger Marxist tradition, “Ashes” is the kind of melody that Stalinists would have approved, for it does not sound “modernistic,” but has a familiar, non-challenging, non-intellectual quality to it. Similarly, the words beguile the singer, because they hide their ideological thrust among strings of vague or meaningless phrases. One can spend considerable time pondering the meaning of most of the phrases, and be left wondering, “What in the dickens does that mean?” Well, not much--accept for the key ideological points cleverly hidden in the gray weeds of ashen words:

“We rise again from ashes, from the good we’ve failed to do”
     [What “ashes” do we rise from? And what is the good we failed to do?]

“We rise again from ashes” [repetition of the meaningless, dulling the mind]
“to create ourselves anew....”

The fourth phrase is one of the ideological centerpieces of this propagandistic song: “To create ourselves anew.” Without thinking of what he or she is singing, the person in the pew presumes to take the place of the Creator, whose work, after all is defective (not unlike Luther’s experience), and requiring human effort of re-creation. Again, we have the ideology of mass Marxism dressed up in a “Catholic” song. Let’s put the matter simply as if speaking to the song writer:

 Mr. Conry (whoever you may be), you are deceived and deceiving the faithful who are “invited” by musicians to sing this song. We are not God, and we cannot “create ourselves anew.” Your ideology is poisoning the minds of well-intentioned but inattentive Catholics, who repeat your words with perhaps as much mindfulness as they routinely utter the words of the Creed. Your vague poetry of “rising from ashes” dulls the senses, and then you instill your ideology into unaware singers.

One can go on in this vein through the entire song, but I shall not waste our time doing so. The poetry does not deserve much attention, lamenting “dreams not fully dreamt,” and with our “offering of ashes, an offering to you.” What are we giving to whom? Giving ashes to whom? In true Christian faith, God wants our heart, our mind, our soul--not mere “ashes.” Again, however, among the mindless chatter, the ideological centerpiece lies hidden for the unwary faithful: “The rain we’ll use for growing” [that is a fine teaching for those who garden), “and create the world anew.” Hold it! There he goes again with human beings replacing God as creator: “We will create the world anew.”

There in a nutshell is modern ideology, with its foolishness, its arrogance, its illusions. Return to simple truth: We are not God, we are not the Creator, and we cannot “create the world anew.” Is God’s creation so defective--so “full of devils” in Luther’s symbols--to necessitate its “re-creation?” Was the Creator Himself defective? Was the creator god perhaps the evil god of the ancient gnostics after all? For Tom Conry, it surely appears so. God failed in creation, so we superior, enlightened human beings “must create the world anew.”

Examining details in “Ashes,” let us not fail to overlook the most essential piece of secularist propaganda in the song: There is no mention of God or Christ until the last verse--which of course may not be sung at all. In fact, worship of God has been replaced in the song by chatting about “us.” It is precisely the secularist agenda that replaces focus on God with focus on human being. “It’s all about us.” To that I say, “Ashes!”

All of this nonsense is communicated through the propaganda of a song. Who approved this song for singing in Catholic Churches? Bishops, or some music company that makes money off publishing these pop-songs? One may well wonder why the Catholic Church has become so exacting and literalistic in the way it translates the prayers in the Eucharistic liturgy now, and yet seemingly pays no attention to words sung by the faithful? Here is a guess: When folks sing music in church, they are more engaged than when the priest offers or prays (or mumbles) the Eucharistic Prayer at the altar. “You are indeed holy” may be heard, but does not grab the soul the way “Ashes” does when sung in church. That is how propaganda works: it replaces mindfulness and reasoned thought with emotionally-laden nonsense and ideological dreaming.

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Finally, a short addendum on the magical power of music that ideologues may harness:

For anyone interested in the potentials of music to move emotions and serve as ideological tools when combined with gnostic myths or “dreams” or just plain “magic words,” one could consider contemporary popular music. I prefer, however, to pass over in virtual silence the slop dished up on TV, radio, and in stores as “music,” and cranked out for making money and “entertainment.” Most of this noise is at such a low cultural level that it is offensive to the ears and psyche of anyone unfortunate enough to be subject to it. This “music” is imperialistic and highly aggressive, and is played virtually wherever one happens to go among Americans today. This much is evident to anyone with ears to hear--whose mind has not lost all sense of standards of beauty: cranked-out, cranked-up rock music is indeed propaganda of the first order. And what is the central message of this impoverished noise? Ultimately it is this (putting the trash into simplistic words): ”It’s all about me, me, ME, and about MY FEELINGS, which are the only reality I know and care to know, so you shut up and listen to ME.” Much of the emotional content of this self-centered, solipsistic music is rage, hatred, lust, selfishness, violence. There are exceptions, but the overall pattern is clear to a discerning mind.

But passing on to a far higher cultural level, perhaps more subtle in its propaganda value, but historically more important and effective, consider briefly the music of two fairly recent masters of western music: Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) and Richard Wagner (1813-1883).

More than anyone else, I submit, Beethoven paved the way for the raucous propaganda that is “rock” music. More broadly, Beethoven most skillfully unleashed powerful emotions in music, and sought to move audiences intensely through his masterful compositions. Beethoven’s thrust was not to calm the soul or unite man and God, and not to bring pleasant and enlivening experiences (as in most of Haydn and Mozart, his older contemporaries). Beethoven is expressing himself, and self as the focus of art and life is clearly the substance of Beethoven’s music. In this sense, one can say that his music is propaganda for the modern religion of self-worship, or at least self-adulation and self-expression. Beethoven is the high priest of self-expression in music, and hence of the modern religion centering on self. And what Beethoven does, he does extremely well.

If Beethoven was the foremost and unsurpassable pioneer in the use of music to manipulate audiences to “feel” whatever the composer wishes, and to become absorbed in the intensity of those feelings, Wagner achieved truly impressive heights in dominating the audience through music. His music does not only generate and arouse intense passions in the hearers; using poetry, drama, staging, orchestral sound, and highly demanding singing all at once, his operatic works in effect carry the audience into a Wagnerian dream world in which the composer is the Master-magician, the great Leader, and the audience becomes his subjects. Wagner rules, dominates, manipulates, works over his hearers until they are cooperating, docile subjects in the hands of the Master. Moreover, there is discernible clear content to Wagnerian musicpropaganda. As with Beethoven, Wagner inundates the hearers in sounds that stir up strong emotional responses. As with Beethoven, the religion of self, of self-centered, emotional existence is inculcated, or at least intensified. But whereas Beethoven’s spirit concentrates on anger, rebellion, romantic love, and sentimental humanitarianism, Wagner’s world is bathed in passion, eros, heroic dreams, mythical illusions, a make-believe world divorced from the concrete reality of God’s creation.

The analysis offered is that of a political scientist fascinated by the propagandistic-manipulative skills of two highly competent composers, Beethoven and Wagner. As a human being who enjoys well-composed music, I delight in many of Beethoven’s compositions, and increasingly in Wagner’s music-dramas. Listening to both composers, however, makes me feel something like Ulysses, who asked his shipmates to strap him to the mast so he could listen to the magical singing of the sirens, without diving under the waves to his death. While listening to Wagner, for example, I have intense feelings, and I desire to keep indulging in these feelings. With an effort of will, I must limit my exposure to the music, and try not to become absorbed in emotions. Yes, indeed, I appreciate Wagner’s musical genius. The cult of self, of self-absorption, has its magical charms, and if one is exposed to it in music, he must listen to the music and be aware of its effects on him, even while trying to keep his spiritual balance and not be drowned beneath its powerful, emotional waves.

The Interplay Between Faith In God And American Politics

As a political scientist who is also a Catholic priest, one of my areas of special interest is the interplay between faith in God and American politics. A parishioner of ours sent me the following link to a YouTube clip of President Ronald Reagan sharing his faith in God and some basic religious beliefs when he was President. The clip is about 4 minutes, and appears to be a compilation by the Presbyterian church of which President Reagan was a member.

If one is interested in faith and politics, I especially recommend the letters and speeches of President Abraham Lincoln. Having seen this clip, I am eager to do some research on President Reagan’s faith. If anyone knows materials by Reagan on faith and politics, please bring them to my attention.

Here is the link:

Ronald Reagan Tribute

Lent I: The Struggle Against Evil

The explicit theme of the First Sunday of Lent each year is our struggle against sin and evil, and to this end we hear the Gospel story of Christ in the wilderness, undergoing trials by the evil one. Whereas Matthew and Luke report brief dialogues between Jesus and Satan, Mark simply states that “the Spirit drove Jesus out into the wilderness, and he was tempted by Satan.”

In each Gospel, the point is made: Christ overcomes evil. To the extent that we are in Christ, in union with the Holy One of God, we resist and overcome evil. To the extent that we depart from God and from Christ’s Spirit in us, we are ravaged by the forces of evil in one form or another. In Christ we find life, peace, joy; in yielding to forces of evil, we experience inner death, unhappiness, a loss of peace, loss of purpose, mindless wandering in the wilderness of sin.

All life is either conversion or diversion, either a turning the gaze of the mind and the heart’s love towards God, or a futile effort to escape from God, to ignore God, or simply to immerse oneself in this passing world and its “joys.” Truly God seeks us, but we must respond. God is merciful and forgiving, but either we respond to His mercy and resist sin, or we refuse His strengthening gifts and wallow a while in the pit. Although God’s mercy is freely given, we must make the effort to accept it and to live it, or our hearts become increasingly self-enclosed through lives of self-seeking.

Hell is complete self-enclosure: No communion with God, neighbor, creation, one’s better self. A man’s hell is of his own making: turning one’s back on truth, one chooses again and again what may look good--power, pleasure, money, fame--rather than the true good and beauty that is God.

When St. Augustine came to his senses, and turned to the living God, he lamented the lost years apart from God, the true Good. In his Confessions he wrote (paraphrasing): “Late have I loved you, Beauty ever ancient, ever new; late have I loved you. Behold, you were within, but I was outside, seeking there for you, and rushing headlong on the beautiful things you have made. You were within me, but I was not with you. They held me back far from you--those things which would not be at all, were they not in You. To me You called, shouted, broke through my deafness. You flared, blazed, banished my blindness. You lavished your fragrance, I gasped, and now I pant for You. I tasted, and now I hunger and thirst for You. For You touched me, and now I burn for your peace.”

On Praying The Psalms, Part II: A Few Thoughts On Spiritual Reading

The Christian spiritual traditions extending back to the first centuries after Christ practice, as far as I can tell, three main forms of prayer: Liturgy, centering on hearing the Scriptures and on the Eucharistic Presence of Christ; spiritual reading, especially using the Scriptures of Israel and the Church (our Bible), as well as the writings of the Christian Fathers; and thirdly, often present under and with these two forms, contemplative prayer: simple mindfulness of the Presence of God here and now.

In this brief essay I center on the practice of spiritual reading, or what in Latin has been known as “lectio divina.” The literal meaning of lectio divina is “divine reading,” and that phrase is highly rich in meaning, as we shall briefly consider. In the previous essay we encouraged the faith to develop the habit of praying the Psalms, the collection of Israel’s prayers that for nearly twenty centuries now has been "the prayer book of the Church” as well as a prayer treasury of Israel. By no means do we wish to exclude the reading of the Law of Moses, the prophets, other Old Testament writings, the Gospels, or the letters of the Apostle Paul, and so on. But for prayer in common and alone, the Psalms provide a source that is at once highly diverse (with ample food for all tastes and needs), often profound, sometimes challenging one’s faith and understanding of Christ, and truly nourishing to the soul that is attentive while it prays the Psalms.

Being attentive while reading is essential in spiritual reading, or “divine reading.” The human mind must be attentive to the words on the page, or the reading is not spiritual-intellectual, but just “going through the motions,” moving eyes mindlessly over black ink spots on the page. Such “reading” is empty and a waste of time. When one does spiritual reading, he or she is attentive, seeking wisdom, longing for the Presence of God, and trusting that the LORD God is present in and with the praying mind. Justly is this spiritual exercise known as “divine reading,” for when the human mind truly engages in this kind of reading, the one reading is aware that the Divine Mind, the I AM, is present in and with the human mind as one reads. Such reading is prayer indeed, for the human seeker becomes aware of the hidden Presence of the One sought--the Presence of God--in and through the activity of spiritual reading.

Let me try to develop this insight, for it is crucial for prayerful reading. When one reads the Psalms for the sake of growing in the love and knowledge of God, then it is the LORD Himself who is moving one to read, it is the LORD who nourishes the soul, it is the LORD who is both the one sought and the ever-present mover in the search. In divine reading, one is not primarily praying to God, although that is one aspect of this spiritual exercise, and perhaps what most beginners are more conscious of as they read. Beginners think that they are praying to God, and with this sense is often a conviction that it is right and just to pray to God. Without denying this dimension of divine reading, what makes it truly divine is that this prayerful reading is first and foremost the work of the Holy Spirit praying in one’s heart, and moving one to read the words on the page, and nourishing the mind and heart as one reads. In divine reading, the human-divine union is being actualized, so that the one praying could say, paraphrasing the Apostle Paul, “I am praying, yet not I, but the Spirit of Christ (or Christ) is praying in me.” Indeed, it is trust in the divine Presence as moving this activity that makes it genuine prayer, and it is an awareness of divine Presence as one reads prayerfully that makes it truly “divine reading,” lectio divina.

Divine reading is essentially an iconic activity. Just as one is aware that the living God is attending to the human being who stands before and venerates an Icon, so the person reading the Psalms as spiritual reading is aware that the God sought is the One present. One may “hear” the voice of God in and through the Psalms, or One may sense the divine Presence stirring in the unseen depths, in the “heart of hearts.” But perhaps especially in stillness, as the mind is absorbed in reading, one becomes aware of the living truth: “You Are,” or “You are here,” or in other words expressing the divine-human-union-in-distinction: One, yet two; together, yet distinct; You and I-in-You.

Thoughts On Praying The Psalms, Part I

In the homilies I delivered this past week-end (18-19 February), I emphasized the need for prayer and study to develop one’s spiritual life. In the context of discussing prayer, I encouraged parishioners to pray the psalms. After Mass a woman of faith said that she reads the psalms, but does not pray them. I wonder: Is there a difference? If you read the psalms to draw closer to God, you are praying, whether you know it or not. Prayer is the longing of the heart for communion with God, and seeing life in the perspective of the Divine source of all that is. When I read, I pray. And you?

Some practical suggestions to pray and appreciate the Psalms:

First, to pray the psalms, I suggest beginning with Psalm 1, and reading through the psaltery in order, at least for the first few readings. The order of the 150 psalms is not haphazard. Indeed, over the years I have come to see how the collection of psalms has been stitched together. For example, a key symbol introduced in one psalm (as being “blessed” in Psalm 1) is taken up in the next, and in subsequent psalms. Thoughts are presented in various contexts, but often elaborated or modified or even negated in subsequent psalms. Years ago I found a sequence of inter-related psalms that I named “the little wisdom psalter.” Keep your eyes open, and you shall see patterns: types of psalms, recurring symbols (words), different theological perspectives, substructures in the collection, and so on.

Second, I strongly suggest that you read the psalms with a pencil or pen in your hand. When a particular verse speaks to you, you may mark it, and return to it in following days--and even years later. If some thought seems especially illuminating or moving, you may even jot down a few words in the margin, and record the date in the psalm. Also, if some psalms really speak to you personally, I would star them, or mark them in a way that you may return more readily to them in the future. Then when you pray that psalm later, you are in continuity with thoughts and experiences of your past.

Third, grow in the habit of praying the psalms as part of your life. The psalms are indeed “the prayer book of the Church,” even though they were written in Hebrew as expressions of Israelite and Jewish faith. After all, we are branches on the tree grounded in the faith of Abraham, Moses, and the prophets. The psalms help to root us in the People of God and, indeed, with all of humankind existing through centuries.

Fourth, all sorts of translations of the Psalms are available. I have studied a number of them over the years. My favorites remain the Grail Psalter and the collection found in the RSV--the Revised Standard Version of the Bible. The Catholic New American Bible, original or revised editions, is also very good and readable. On occasion I study passages in the original Hebrew and the ancient Greek that influenced the first Christians (including the Apostle Paul), and the fruit of that study informs my preaching the Gospel of Christ. Please note: If beginning to read the Psalms seems difficult, know that they become much easier with practice and repeated effort. Good things in life usually require effort.

Fifth, I tentatively suggest a few of my own favorite psalms for you to consider, chosen from various types of psalms, as minds, personal tastes, and interests vary. The numbers I give are from the Hebrew Bible, with the common Catholic numbering in parentheses. For clarity, I quote the first line in case you are confused by the numbering, as I used to be.

    1 (1): “Blessed indeed is the man...”
    6 (6): “LORD, do not reprove me in your anger”
    8 (8): “How great is your Name, O LORD our God, through all the earth”

    16 (15): “Preserve me, God, I take refuge in You”
    19 (18): “The heavens proclaim the glory of God”
    22 (21): “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
    23 (22): “The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want”
    27 (26): “The LORD is my light, and my salvation”

    32 (31): “Happy the man whose offense is forgiven”
    34 (33): “I will bless the LORD at all times”
    36 (35): “Sin speaks to the sinner in the depths of his heart”
    39 (38): “I said: I will be watchful of my ways”
    40 (39): “I waited, I waited for the LORD”

    42-43 (41-42): “Like the deer that yearns for flowing streams”
    48 (47): “The LORD is great and worthy to be praised in the city of our God”
    51 (50): “Have mercy on me, o God, in your kindness
    61 (60): “O God, hear my cry, listen to my prayer”
    63 (62): “O God, you are my God, for you I long”
    65 (64): “To you our praise is due in Zion, o God”

    73 (72): “How good God is to Israel, to those who are pure of heart”
    80 (79): “O Shepherd of Israel, hear us”
    81 (80): “Ring out our joy to God our strength”
    84 (83): “How lovely is your dwelling place, LORD, God of hosts”
    86 (85): “Turn your ear, O LORD, and give answer”
    88 (87): “LORD my God, I call for help by day”

    90 (89): “O LORD, you have been our refuge from one generation to the next” 
        (the only psalm attributed to “Moses, the man of God”)
    91 (90): “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High”
    92 (91): “It is good to give thanks to the LORD”
    95 (94): “Come, ring out our joy to the LORD”
    96 (95): “O, sing a new song to the LORD”

    102 (101): “O LORD, listen to my prayer”
    103 (102): “My soul, give thanks to the LORD”
    104 (103): “Bless the LORD, my soul”
    106 (105): “O give thanks to the LORD, for He is good”
    107 (106): “O give thanks to the LORD, for He is good

    112 (111): “Happy the man who fears the LORD”
    113-118 (112-117): “Praise, O servants of the LORD”
    (these psalms form the lesser Hallel for Passover)

    127 (126): “If the LORD does not build the house”
    130 (129): “Out of the depths I cry to you, o LORD”
    136 (135): “O give thanks to the LORD, for He is good”
    (the great Hallel for Passover)

    138 (137): “I thank you, LORD, with all my heart”
    139 (138): “O LORD, you search me and you know me” (hound of heaven)
    143 (142): “LORD, listen to my prayer”
    148-150: “Alleluia! Praise the LORD from the heavens”
    (3 psalms known as “Laudes,” “Praises,” in the Church tradition)

Spiritual Exercises For Lent 2012

For Parishioners of St. Mark’s, Holy Trinity, St. Mary’s, and St. Clements

In the realm of the spirit--the life of the soul--no one can afford to glide, slide, become indifferent, turn away. Either one is moving towards God, or one is moving away from God. You are either attending to the Divine, or you are turning away and becoming lost in passing things. In the realm of the spirit, there is no such thing as neutrality: one struggles against sin and evil, or one embraces true and enduring goods.

What is at stake is life: One can maintain physical life with proper nutrition, exercise, rest, but these things do not guarantee inner life, spiritual life, the life of the soul. One can have a healthy body, and be dying inside. Spiritual death shows up in sin, selfishness, excessive sorrow, unhappiness, a depressed spirit, lack of energy, loss of a sense of purpose, a belief that life is meaningless, nagging irritability, spiritual and mental laziness, and so on.

To gain and to maintain true life--the life of the human spirit--one must ever engage in two activities: putting to death in oneself all that is sinful, not of God; and seeking to love and to know God with all of one’s heart, mind, soul. Regarding putting to death whatever is sinful and evil in one’s character I have written elsewhere, and will develop those thoughts in due course. For the present we concentrate on the positive: What ought one do to gain and to maintain genuine spiritual life? What are fundamental and needed spiritual exercises to grow in God?

There are two kinds of activities necessary to develop one’s character and spiritual life. Both entail the development of virtues or excellences of soul. These virtues were well classified by the Greek philosophers as moral and intellectual-spiritual virtues. Moral virtues are essentially actions developing in particular ways the love of oneself (mind and body), and the love of one’s neighbors. Intellectual / spiritual virtues develop the life of the mind more directly, and the human being’s life in God. Both sets of virtues can be seen under Christ’s dual commandment: to love God, and to love one’s neighbor as oneself. For the present, I will concentrate our attention on love of God, with the understanding that love of God entails the right use of one’s mental and spiritual powers. The love of neighbor is given much attention in homilies and in one’s daily and practical life. In our culture generally, and all-too-often even in the churches, we neglect to guide our people on the path of loving God, and nourishing the Divine within the human soul.

Now we ask a concrete question: How can a human being develop the life of his mind, his spiritual life? The fundamental activity is simple, yet demanding: prayer and study. In other words, one must become mindful of the reality of God (prayer) and seek to understand oneself and the world in light of God (study).

As St. Bonaventure famously summarized our tradition, prayer is  essentially the lifting of the mind and heart to God. By prayer one attends to the unseen reality which we call “God.” One may ask God questions, ask for needs to be filled, or praise and thank God for Who He Is and what He does.

The kind of study that nourishes the life of the spirit places all that exists and happens in light of God. One studies to gain wisdom and understanding: to develop a right perspective on life, to see everything in God, and under divine Providence. All that is, all that happens, unfolds in God. Study aims to clarify this truth.

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Enough of these generalizations for the present. In what activities ought our parishioners to engage in order to grow spiritually? I raise the question in response to Bishop Michael’s Lenten Letter to Priests, 2012, in which he exhorts and encourages priests of this diocese to engage in more spiritual activities, and he makes suggestions as to which forms are most likely to produce good results in his priests.

Understanding that individual needs and abilities vary, I tentatively make the following suggestions to be considered by parishioners:

   First and foremost, each parishioner ought to seek to attend Mass each Saturday-Sunday. We offer four week-end Liturgies in these faith communities. When present, one ought to try to be truly present in mind by praying and being attentive.

   Second, during Lent, I encourage each parishioner to attend at least one weekday Mass each week. We provide Masses on Monday, Tuesday morning, Tuesday evening, and Friday. In Great Falls one can find Masses offered daily in a number of Catholic churches.

  Third, I encourage each parishioner to spend at least 15 minutes a day in prayer: praying the psalms; or reciting the Rosary; or quietly praying from the heart; or in another way that one finds suitable, and to which one will be faithful.

  Fourth, some form of study of the things of God is necessary for spiritual growth. The adult faith class is intended to aid parishioners in their spiritual lives as we study the Gospel of John together. For our young people, CCD is offered, and children are urged to attend. Otherwise, I strongly encourage each person to spend at least an hour a week nourishing their knowledge of the things of God. Good books are readily available. You may ask me for suggestions. Spiritual growth requires mental activity.

  Fifth, each person is encouraged to reflect on his or her sins, and to avail themselves of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, and attend our common penance services (as on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday this Lent, with the burning of sins).

  Sixth, each person ought to spend some time each week in silence, seeking God’s Presence, listening to His silent word, and adoring the LORD in the heart. There is no substitute for time spent alone with the Alone.

  Seventh, plan now to attend all of the main Liturgies during Holy Week: Passion (Palm) Sunday; Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday; the Good Friday service; and either the Easter Vigil (Holy Saturday evening) or an Easter day Mass. These are the High Holy Days of Christian faith. Why would you not attend them?

Lent: The Struggle With Evil

Until a human being has become fully one in God, all that is not-God is problematic in his or her life. No one grows more like God without struggling against evil. The great deterrences to union with God come not from without, but from within: all that is called “sin” in our faith tradition. Sin is essentially the orientation of the soul, of the human person, away from God, and an immersion in illusions--what appears good, but is not.

Evil results from sin. What does one experience in presence of evil? One feels pulled towards a seemingly infinite void of non-reality, into an abyss which has no end, no limit, no escape. In simplest words, one “feels bad,” and may feel a chilling cold, in the presence of the vortex of evil. Although evil is masked by what exists, it is felt as an undertow into a realm from which the traveler does not return. A person with sense or common goodness instinctively wants to flee from the experience of this void. One knows it because one feels it: Evil destroys. At times one can experience a kind of magical pull from evil, as though it casts a spell on a person, and lures him from his better senses and grounding in reality towards a bottomless and lightless pit. Evil has nothing to give, but it may promise joy, knowledge, even life.

Evil lies and deceives. Evil hides under the appearance of good. Men who habitually yield to evil become dark in spirit, lifeless, deceitful, hateful, destructive, and powerfully envious of those who do good. Those who dabble in evil hate the good they believe they cannot attain. In Christ’s words in John ch. 3: “Those who do evil hate the light, and refuse to come to the light, lest their evil deeds be exposed; but those who do good come to the light, that it may be clearly seen that their deeds are wrought in God.”

Evil shows up in the will to power, the desire to dominate others that may masquerade as “service” or even as “love,” but in reality is self-seeking, controlling, manipulating, dominating. At its worst, evil as will-to-power attempts to silence truth, to deceive people, to present itself as good, and ultimately to destroy whatever is most truly good, true, beautiful, and one. Why? Because evil essentially is nothing but the negation of whatever is good and true. Evil can only negate, destroy, deceive, for evil has nothing of goodness or truth to give. Evil takes without giving, kills without bringing life.

Blessed the man or woman who can discern evil from good, who takes inspiration and direction from the light that comes from the divine Light, and not from the deceitful, swirling power of sheer evil. Happy the soul arising by love into goodness, by self-control into divine and true joy. That soul will live forever in God.

Some Thoughts On The Problem Of Evil

Unless and until a human being has become fully one in God, all that is not-God is problematic in his or her life.

Many of the problems for our being-in-God arise from having to deal with “the necessities of nature,” with our having bodies. Of course the body is not evil or bad, but it can and often does weigh down the person’s ascent into God, especially with its need for sleep and its being subject to illnesses of all sorts. The body is ever subject to the “thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to,” as Hamlet laments.

The great deterrences to union with God come not from without, but from within: all that is called “sin” in the biblical tradition. Sin is essentially the orientation of the soul, of the human person, away from its proper end (God), and an immersion in what passes. This formulation may sound like regurgitated Plotinian or Augustinian thought; I write it because it seems true to experience. Either one is turning the gaze of one’s mind towards God, towards the complete Good, or one is allowing the mind and its affections to be inundated in and by all “created things,” or all that is not-God. In St. Augustine’s early work, “On true religion,” when he was indeed highly influenced by Plotinus, we find those well-known words: “In the consideration of creatures, one must not exercise a vain and perishing curiosity, but take steps to ascend to that which is immortal and everlasting.”

According to the great thinkers of the western tradition who have written profoundly on the problem of evil--including Plotinus, Augustine, and Thomas Aquinas--evil is not “substantial,” not an independent reality, but a lack of goodness, and ultimately a lack of being, a lack of reality. When one dabbles in evil, one is immersing himself in nonreality, in what does not lead to God, but away from divine reality into nothingness. In New Testament thought, evil is generally portrayed as “the devil,” or “demons,” or as demonic activity. That is one way to get at the problem of evil. It is ever good to return from symbolic expression to underlying and engendering experience. And so we ask: What does one experience in “the presence of evil”? One feels pulled towards a seemingly infinite void of non-reality, into an abyss which has no end, no limit, no escape. In simplest words, one “feels bad,” and may feel a chilling cold, in the presence of the vortex of evil. Although evil is masked by what exists, it is felt as an undertow into a realm from which the traveler does not return. A person with sense or common goodness instinctively wants to flee from the experience of this void. One knows it because one feels it: Evil destroys.

Goodness and reality--what is--are essentially one and the same. Evil is the absence of good, and hence, a void in reality, a kind of spiritual “black hole” that can have an allure to a being not set on seeking complete and true goodness--or what Judaeo-Christianity has symbolized as “God,” or “the God.” At times one can experience a kind of magical pull from evil, as though it casts a spell on a person, and lures him from his better senses and grounding in reality towards a bottomless and lightless pit. Evil has nothing to give, but it may promise joy, knowledge, even life.

Evil loves to hide. Evil deceives. Having nothing to give--for evil is nothing but a lack, an emptiness--evil covers itself in apparent goods, in beauty, in charms, and hence attracts those who cannot see it for what it is. Evil deceives the unwary mind, and makes a person think that it is good and beautiful, but it is not. The powerful pull of evil, as noted, is the powerful pull of an intense vacuum, a whirling vortex into nothingness. Unless one keeps setting his course towards the full and real good (that is God), one will be subject to the allure of evil. Its magnetic pull can be great indeed.

Human beings who habitually yield to evil become dark in spirit, lifeless, deceitful, hateful, destructive, and powerfully envious of those who do good. Those who dabble in evil hate the good they believe they cannot attain. In the words of St. John’s Gospel, “Those who do evil hate the light, and refuse to come to the light, lest their evil deeds be exposed; but those who do good come to the light, that it may be clearly seen that their deeds are wrought in God.”

I cannot imagine any force of evil in human existence as strong as the sheer will to power, the desire to dominate others that may masquerade as “service” or even as “love,” but in reality is self-seeking, controlling, manipulative, dominating. At its worst, evil as will-to-power shows up in the attempt to silence truth, to deceive people, to present itself as good, and ultimately to destroy whatever is most truly good, true, beautiful, and one. Why? Because evil essentially is nothing but the negation of whatever is good, true, beautiful, one. All it can do is negate, destroy, deceive. Evil has nothing of goodness or truth to bestow.

In God is no evil. “In Him there is no darkness at all.” The movement into God requires of necessity repeated and frequent turnings away from all that passes, and especially away from the negation of truth and goodness--from evil. One must constantly and steadily keep turning towards “whatever is good, and true, and beautiful, and honorable” (Philippians 4).

Choose wisely: There are those whom we meet who themselves are not turned towards God, and who would distract others from the movement into God. And there are those we meet who are making the exodus from what passes away into true reality--that which IS--into God. Those who love truth and goodness inspire us to arise and move in the same direction. Those who have fled the light, who have sought passing goods as if they were the real good of life, drag others down on the same path.

Blessed are those who can discern good and evil, who take their inspiration and direction from the light that comes from the Light, and not from the deceitful, swirling power of nothingness. Happy the soul arising by love into goodness, by self-control into the joy of divine truth.

Did Jesus Focus As Much On Sin As The Church Claims?

There is no reasonable doubt that Jesus of Nazareth was counter-cultural and in many ways a shock to most of his fellow Jews. The four canonical Gospels all present pictures of a man who thinks, speaks, and acts in ways unexpected and often unwanted by his contemporaries. Simply to repeat, as some do today, that “Jesus was a religious Jew” ignores the ways in which this man rejected, reinterpreted, overturned, or astoundingly sought to renew the faith, teachings, practices, daily life of his fellow Jews. Even his chosen disciples often could not understand him, and seem to have misinterpreted his most basic intentions all the way to the cross. This man of divine compassion could say to Peter, who could not grasp Jesus’ self-understanding as the Suffering Servant, “Get behind me, Satan!” And consider the piercing words to Philip at the Last Supper: “Have I been so long with you, Philip, and yet you do not know me?”

Previously I have quoted a question raised by Pope Benedict--a question which needed to be asked for a very long time: “Has the Church misinterpreted Jesus?” Even to ask the question is healthy, and to wonder in what ways Christians have not grasped the intentions of their professed Master seems salutary, and may become fruitful in the long term. The way to knowledge ever passes through awareness of one’s ignorance. According to the picture of Judaism we learn in the New Testament, the religion was preoccupied with sin, and especially with actions thought to be contrary to the teaching of the elders, to Moses as interpreted by rabbis, or simply to common practice. So we may wonder, “Did Jesus’ contemporaries read into Jesus their own preoccupation with sin? Or, is it possible that Jesus was in fact less focused on sin and on particular sins than one would believe from the pages of the Gospels?”

Even if--as I would consider likely--Jesus said words such as “My son, your sins are forgiven you,” are not those words intended to get one’s mind off of his failings and sins, and step forward courageously into life with a heart and mind renewed? The Pharisees dwelt on sins, and had a darkened view of reality. Jesus’ vision, as far as I can see, was filled with the light of God’s love and grace breaking in: “The Kingdom of God is Now.” Truly, he often would turn his hearers away from sin, as in “Repent and believe in gospel.” But he does not say, “Go and dwell on all the wrong you have ever done.” Indeed, “if your eye is dark, how great is the darkness.” Those who dwell on sin, are who preoccupied with their own or others’ wrong-doing, have a dark eye, and hence darkness within.

I am not suggesting that one should be oblivious to his or her own shortcomings. But the Jesus presented in the canonical Gospels and in the letters of Paul is himself so filled with God’s love that he sees goodness; and where he encounters evil, he drives it out so that goodness may have free or at least freer reign in the human heart and mind. Christ, who is “the light of the world,” enlightens the world by turning the gaze of our minds from a preoccupation with evil or sickness or death towards the Presence and activity of the all-good God. This new awareness, new attitude, which must be lived from moment to moment, is an essential fruit of “the Reign of God.”

Let us put the matter differently: The reason to focus any attention on one’s sin is to renounce it and to live in the light of God’s goodness, and hence allowing the goodness of God’s Presence to well up in one’s soul. The reason to deal with sin or sickness or evil at all is to help a greater good come, but never to get absorbed in sin, evil, sickness, death. Christ is not naive or a “Pollyanna,” for “he knows what is in the human heart,” or that of which each of us is capable. Christ confronts evil, and even provokes it by his sheer goodness: “Those who do evil hate the light, and refuse to come to the light, lest their evil deeds be exposed.” And yet, the LORD sees sin, sickness, and death as opportunities for realizing the Kingdom of God, for “overcoming evil with good,” for making more present and active the sheer goodness of “the Father.”

Man is neither good nor bad existentially (as he exists here and now). Man is in-between. The work of Christ is to draw man away from badness and into goodness, out of sin into communion with God, out of death into life eternal. And eternal life means participation in the Life that we call “God.” Indeed, “I have come that you may have Life--Life abundantly.” To allow oneself to be preoccupied with sin, sickness, or death is to resist the movement into Life. Christ liberates from sin; he does not inundate in sin. Hence, the only reason for the Church to draw attention of people to sin is to help us to see it for what it is, and to embrace and to live in the reality of God.

"I Do Will It. Be Made Clean"

A leper asks Jesus to cleanse him from leprosy, to heal him, and Jesus responds by touching the human being and saying, “I do will it; be cleansed.”

We say before communion: “... only say the word, and my soul shall be healed.” The healing of the soul, of the inner you, includes the forgiveness of our sins, and the removal of our guilt and shame for what we have done. Jesus heals us from the deadly leprosy of sin, and from what can be called “brokenness.”

Bishop Michael has asked the priests / pastors in this diocese to make the Sacrament of Reconciliation, of forgiveness, generously available during Lent. Clearly his intention is that all of the faithful avail themselves of this Sacrament as we prepare to celebrate Easter “with hearts and minds renewed.” We can offer; the response must be yours.

I ask that we all do our best to honor Bishop Michael’s intention, which is for our good, for our upbuilding in Christ, for the experience of God’s blessing of life. Presently I am working on a schedule for offering the Sacrament of Reconciliation at least weekly in one of our parishes, mainly on Fridays at St. Mark’s (where I reside). After the return to daylight savings time, I shall add an evening session at Holy Trinity parish for adults who have not had the chance to receive the Sacrament, and who may wish to do so.

From years of priestly ministry, I have learned that some people do not at all feel comfortable in speaking out their sins before another human being. To assist all of us to experience the joy of forgiveness, and especially those who may be reluctant to make use of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, I wish to offer all of us a sacramental action for forgiveness of sins as well. It will not replace the Sacrament with absolution, but offer a prayerful time to let go of one’s sins and personal problems. Details will be announced next week, but I will invite all who attend services for Ash Wednesday and Good Friday to bring with them a list of their sins and burdens on a folded piece of paper, unsigned. After communion, we shall burn the unseen sins, known between you and the LORD alone.

Jesus went out of his way to touch a leper for cleansing. Let us do what we can to help one another experience Christ’s healing power.

Literal Translation From The Greek Of The Prologue Of St. John's Gospel

(1:1-18) for adult faith class at St. Mark’s, Belt.

Title in Greek: “According to John”
     [Note: no title in original; title added in 2nd century]

In (the) beginning was the word (logos), and the word was towards the god (theos), and the word was god. The same was in (the) beginning towards the god. All (things) through him became (came to be), and without him became not one that has become. In him was life (zoe), and the life was the light (phos) of human beings; and the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not apprehended (overcome) it.

There came to be a human being, sent from god--his name is John; the same came for witness, that he might witness about the light, that all might believe (trust) through him. That one was not the light, but that he might witness about the light.

He was the true light, which lightens (photizei) every human being (anthropon) coming into the world (kosmos). In the world he was, and the world came to be through him, and the world did not know him. He came unto his own (people, things), and his own (people) did not receive him. But as many as received him, he gave to them power (authority) to become children of god, to those believing (trusting) in his name--who not out of bloods nor out of the will of flesh nor out of a man’s will--but (on the contrary) were out of god born.

And the word became flesh and tented among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only-begotten from (the) father, [full of grace and truth]. John witnessed about him and cried out saying, ‘This was he of whom I said: The one coming after me has become before me, because he was prior to me.’ That out of his fulness we have all received even grace instead of grace. For the law was given through Moses, the grace and the truth came (came to be) through Jesus Christ.

God no one has seen at any time; (the) only-begotten god, he who is (ho on) in the bosom of the father, that one has declared (him).

Note: Verses 1, 14, and 18 are central, and frame the meditation. “Be” verbs are used of the Logos, Life, LIght until verse 14, when “became” is used: “The Word [who IS] became flesh...” Verse 18, the final verse, contains far more in the Greek than can be translated. Key here is the Greek “ho on,” which is, I submit, a deliberate borrowing from Exodus 3 in the Greek version (LXX): “I AM the Being” or “I AM HE WHO IS” (ego imi ho On). Introducing Exodus 3’s great revelation of God (“I AM WHO AM” translates the Hebrew) already in the Prologue to his Gospel prepares the reader for the 14 or so “I AM” self-revelations of God-in-Christ in the text, all of which echo Exodus 3: I AM....Hence, One is the God, and One is the Revealer of the God, for he IS (one with) God.

Hence, I would tentatively translate Jn 1:18 in this way:

God no one has seen at any time; the only-begotten God, HE WHO IS in the bosom of the Father, He has interpreted Him.

Job's Lament: Why Does A Human Being Suffer?

We hear an all-too-brief excerpt from the profound Book of Job today at Mass. We hear Job lament that life on earth is drudgery, and that “I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.” Job speaks “out of the depths” for every human being: “My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope. Remember that my life is like the wind; I shall not see happiness again.”

The chances are good that many of us have felt such agony at times that we have spoken similar words, or at least asked in our hearts: “Is there no end to this suffering of mine? Why, LORD?” And even if you may have been spared such spiritual and emotional anguish, some loved ones of yours probably have not been. Even now, today, there may be a few in our assembly who are experiencing an agony of body or of spirit beyond anything we can imagine. He or she may be sitting near us in this church, feeling sheer darkness inside, and emptiness, and imagining that he or she is utterly abandoned by God. Or the suffering may be so intense that it fills the soul, leaving nothing to think about but dark pain. And although near them in space-time, we may not even glimpse the intensity and depth of their suffering.

Consider a few questions: Why must a human being suffer such agony of spirit? What causes one to feel alone, isolated, abandoned by friends, and by God? Why do bad things happen to anyone, even to good people? Why sickness, pain, and death? What can a person do to escape from suffering? Are there kinds of suffering from which one cannot escape, and it is futile to try? Does God cause human beings to suffer? If so, why? Does God allow us to suffer? Whatever the causes of bodily, mental, and spiritual anguish, what is the best that a person can do with his or her suffering? Can one derive good from suffering, or is it necessarily a waste of human spirit, the destruction of an otherwise productive and good life? Does the reality and enormity of human suffering suggest that God is indifferent to our suffering? In a word, does God care?

These questions are heavy, and may be merely the tip of the iceberg of deeper and more heart-wrenching questions. Sooner or later, many of us must wrestle with such questions, because we are in agony, or a loved one is.

Job is not alone. On the contrary, he speaks on behalf of all. So does Jesus: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”