Frequently I take jabs from others for my "rustic" style. "Yeah, you just build shabby stuff and call it rustic. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to Ikea now... how divinely modern and inspired!" Just remember that when you point at me there are three fingers pointing back at yourself. Not too shabby of a comeback. However, not to make this too serious of a topic, I would like to argue today that young people who seek the rustic look in their homes are simply, in a way, seeking the Divine. There, nothing too deep or anything.

Rustic is from the Latin rusticus, or rus, meaning from the countryside. The rustic look is characterized by such items as barnwood, farmhouse décor, and just about anything that reminds someone of country life. "So... old stuff that looks beaten and shabby... right?"

Rustic is quite desirable these days. People, often younger, spend great amounts of money on items that are manufactured to look rustic. Wood is distressed. Metal frames are scratched up. Tractor seats are made into island bar stools. Some of these elements are simply ridiculous *cough* HomeSense *cough*. Others, particularly authentic pieces, do hint at a deeper yearning.

Take wood, for instance. There is a fascination with old wood. Many young people love the idea of wood that shows age and wear, yet has stood the test of time. There is a permanence, charm, and strength-filled structure to such material. Better still when the wood tells a story. Be it a piece from an old barn, to a piece from Grandma's old house, wood, as a rustic piece, can tell a story. I am certainly guilty of such sentiment.

I made a treehouse when I was younger. I was rather proud of it. As the years went by the tree house eventually collapsed under the weight of snow. I know I know, not exactly "strength-filled structure." Nevermind, I was maybe ten at the time. A couple of years ago I salvaged a piece from the old ladder I had built for the treehouse and made it into a chalk board frame. This chalk board rests in our dining area.

Or consider my old hockey rink. Countless hours were spent out in the backyard. Forty below or not. I swiped some boards to make a picture frame and towel rack. The towel rack still has black rubber puck marks on it. "How shabby." Perhaps. Though not to me.

Picture painted by Nancy Garez as a wedding present for Becca and I.

An old sliding door in our basement made from wood from our old horse lean-to. Yes, it's not new looking. It looks old and country-esque. It brings the country into the home.

Alas, let me return to my original thought, that being rustic as a yearning for God. I think of the Tridentine Mass. It is old. It has stood the test of time. Its perceived imperfections ("why does the priest cross himself so many times?.." tell a theological story. They speak a way of life that we too soon forget. That priest who crosses himself various times recalls aspects of the Christian life. The five wounds of Christ, the three Persons in the Trinity, and so on. The rustic style recalls a foundational life. One of farming, of settling a land, of hard work and virtue. Of permanence, strength, and Divine transcendence. Young people may not know anything about such history, yet they are attracted to this old, perhaps shabby looking, wood which yet seems so new and unique. So grounded. So beautiful. Though it is difficult to explain. Martin Mosebach, in The Heresy of Formlessness, does give a certain explanation:

"Artists in the great productive periods never concerned themselves with the problem of originality. It was when they believed they were venerating and lovingly cultivating an inherited great form that they created something new, something unique, something that had never been seen before. What is new, really new - not some cobbled-together experiment - comes unconsciously when an individual breathes new life into what is old. So it is in art" (p. 71).

 So the next time you wish to call someone's rustic touch "shabby junk," try to resist. There may be an unconscious search on the part the individual, and possibly some recognition, for Divine permanence. For what is true and beautiful.

And so, if you promise not to call my style shabby, I won't call you an Ikean iconoclast. Deal?

CCReno: Beautiful Arguments on Sacred Music

I just wanted to make sure everyone had a chance to read an article at Crisis. It is written by a man I know quite well. He may or may not have perfect hair. Check it out here.

John Paul Meenan (of course... who else?) does a fantastic job of bringing Thomistic definitions into the argument (or rather Church teaching) for sacred music at Mass. A couple of snippets:

"Third [in speaking of beauty], and most foundational, there is clarity, that the being must signify and shine forth what it really is, in accord with its form or species. A knife is not a beautiful hammer, a mountain and a meadow each have their respective majesty and charm, and a man will never be a beautiful woman (Bruce Jenner, take note)."

And later:

 "I once heard a musician at the beginning of a Mass, with his guitar strung around his shoulders, announcing to us congregants that “it’s not liturgical music unless everyone can sing it,” a principle that would obviate just about all of the “musical tradition” of the Church, most of which is not meant to be sung by the people, but rather by those with the training and talent to do so."

Finally:

"Raucous, loud, and rhythm-driven music, perhaps fitting in other contexts like outdoor barbecues and tailgate parties for those so inclined, is not only unfitting for the house of God, but will create an obstacle and a distraction to the self-reflection and meditation required for true spiritual growth.

Only by returning to the truly transcendent music of the Church’s tradition will liturgy once again become beautiful as it is meant to be."

 It turns out Jimi Hendrix was ahead of his time when he famously burned his guitar back in '67.

From: http://www.nsnews.com/

Just read the whole article. Well done Mr., er, John Paul Meenan.

Photo from Seat of Wisdom website.

Handing on a mess

A few nights ago I woke up from a vivid dream. In the dream I was in Barry's Bay at the wonderful St. Hedwig's church. Daily Mass had started and I was thrilled to be back to enjoy a peaceful and prayerful Mass. That is until someone started the entrance hymn. A band kicked in and played a raucous worship opener that even a charismatic-charged Protestants would drool over. Badly shaken by this new craze at the church of my wedding, I pressed on ahead at Mass. There was more commotion later on. Before the readings a group of people jumped to the front by the altar and took some booklets and formed them into mini megaphones. These people were pretending to make trumpet noises with the makeshift-a-maphones. They were goofing off at the front, and many in the congregation were laughing and singing along.

To quote Roch Carrier: "This was too much. It was too unfair. This is persecution!" I shouted as loud as I could: "Stop!!!! What are you doing?! You're a disgrace to this church!" People turned and looked at me. Some were relieved. Others were shocked at my outburst. It didn't matter. I think some people tried to kick me out. I woke up feeling quite satisfied with my defense of the this house of prayer.

I think maybe my soul subconsciously was anticipating the Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran, which began the upcoming morning. There I was a few minutes later saying morning prayer with the words: "My house will be called a house of prayer." Did my soul subconsiously know that this great feast was approaching? Or was the dream just a coincidence? Actually, the reason I dreamed of this mess at St. Hedwig's probably stemmed from a prayer comment at the previous night Mass I attended (in Tisdale). It was the prayers of the faithful and our priest asked if anyone had any intentions to add (ho hum... cause that's how we feel like we are participating at Mass...). One lady, who runs our youth programs, piped up that she wanted to pray for the youth of our parish, and that the programs running would turn around and be successful (openly hinting that they were failing) and that the youth would find a love of the Lord through them. A desperate plea I thought. But it got me thinking. Why are we doing the same thing while expecting different results? Oh yes, that is the definition of insanity as is often quoted. That's it. We're insane in our diocese.

A couple of years ago our parish, in accord with our diocese, announced exciting 'new' measures to bring the youth back to the Catholic Church! These included lots of activities, youth Masses, praise and worship, and a watered-down Jesuit printed catechism. It was the 1980s all over again. It was, and remains, insane. No, this is not what we need. Praying for the youth to return to the faith through our diocesan programs is like expecting to win the lottery... when you don't even have a lottery ticket. Or praying for a sunny and beautiful 25 degrees Celsius on your wedding day... in January. Or for Justin Trudeau to spend money wisely. This is not sane.

"Ok smart guy," I'm sure you're saying, "just what do you suggest." I suggest what the Church, and yes even Vatican II, teach. The perhaps most quoted line from Vatican II (after the misquoted "active participation") is that the Eucharist is the "source and summit of the Christian life" (Lumen Gentium 11). It's actually quite simple: Fix the Mass!

That's right, fix the Mass already. There can be no return of youth, sustained growth of parishes, or renaissance of Catholic culture until we realize the Mass must be held sacred. The Mass must be prayerful, beautiful, mysterious, and uplifting. It must be what the world is not. Otherwise we can get the same false buzz from our everyday lives. And for heavens sake, the Mass must not be about us. Now there are other elements to growing Catholicism. Catechism. Family life. Sacraments and Sacramentals. But they all must be rooted in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. And the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass must be carried out properly. Otherwise we have little to no chance of changing things.

We are embodied creatures. We must rely on our senses. If you don't believe me, read Aristotle. That we rely on our senses means that what we take in affects our thoughts, words, actions, and even our souls. Can a Catholic grow in their faith with a reverently-impoverished Mass. Yes. Is it happening? Behold the fruits. A resounding NO. Why? As I said, read Aristotle. There is an insistence on emotionalism, looking at ourselves (ad orientem would sure help fix this), and trying to appeal to the modern world. I think of how our bishop has this thing with calling people around the altar at the Our Father and holding their hands. The look on the children's faces is sheer embarrassment. Why come to Mass? And... they don't. Hence the desperate plea of our parish youth leader. I wrote to the bishop once about his love of hand-holding, among other things. I think I used the word effeminate once or twice in the letter. He never acknowledged that he received my letter. Maybe I should have written in French? Or claimed to be a devoted follower of Jesuit James Martin? My gist was this though: be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect, and stop thinking you know more than the organic tradition of the Church. And for heavens sake stop forcing your hand on others. Is this so hard? Once again look at the fruits... apparently yes.

I realize things will get worse before they improve. I was forwarded Pope Benedict's famous prediction of a smaller human Church the other day. He made that prediction nearly 50 years ago. Our Lord's words of "where two or three are gathered" might someday become more literal than expected. And "My house will become a house of prayer" might someday be our own house only. Or, might I suggest, we fix the Mass before it gets to this? Before all the youth leave never to return. Before St. Hedwig's turns Protestant. Before no more Filipinos show up to artificially sustain our church numbers. Before my nightmares become reality. Fix the Mass. The holy things for the holy. There is no other way.

We must place ourselves in the hands of Our Lord. Not the literal hands of our bishops.

Anniversary Mass Singing

We've been on the road, or have had guests visit, for most of the summer now. One of the items we were fortunate to join in on was my brother Darryl's 10th anniversary celebration to the priesthood. The Millette choir (my brother, two sisters and me.. and joined by my niece Claire on this day!) joined forces with a mom from the Latin Mass who plays organ. We put together a quick couple of practices just an hour or two before the Mass. Needless to say, our guardian angels sure came through for us.

Now this video will never do justice to what it was actually like. The organ actually shook the church on the final song. It was, I think, my favourite moment ever from singing in the choir. I paid a price though. I threw out my voice somewhat. I've been stuck with a bad sore throat ever since!

Give a listen to some of the hymns and such. Some highlights are at:

27:04 Let All Mortal Flesh
46:30 Love Divine All Love Excelling
49:01 Non Nobis Domine
50:35 Dextera Domine
52:09 Ave Maris Stella (shortened)
57:35 O God Beyond All Praising

Yes there is an important juxtaposition here. That is sacred music being played within a post-modern structure. The church my brother is stationed at is Holy Spirit parish in Saskatoon. What could go wrong with a church built in 1966 titled Holy Spirit? They were tough times, and this church bears testament to that.. However, where there is no beauty, put beauty there, and then there will be beauty.

I would love to have some of our hymns recorded properly. However, as Becca so tactfully encouraged me once this was over: "You know, you should think about getting singing lessons..."

What I actually heard:

C'est la vie.

Getting Organized

 For a long long time I've dreamed of owning something like this...

This, of course, is a Hammond SK 1-73. The Hammond name is legendary in the organ world.

I love playing the organ. I used to love stopping by the church on my way to work every morning in Nipawin and playing their lovely organ. I really looked forward to that part of my day. I always wanted to be able to do that in my own house. Also, there have been times, such as when my grandpa died and my siblings and I were the choir, when we really could have used a portable organ. But alas, we've had this:

This organ was generously donated to us by an older Catholic couple from Weyburn, SK. It's a 1976 Lowrey model. However, the past year or so it has really started showing its age. Buttons weren't working. Pedals were touch and go. Sometime notes played, other times no. Even the on/off switch didn't work anymore. Well, with all this considered, and with the help of a generous Christmas gift from my parents, everything combined meant we were able to order the Hammond SK 1!

Now we liked the look of our organ in our living room. It just wouldn't be the same to plop in some run of the mill organ stand and modern looking portable organ. So I decided to gut the old Lowrey.

Here are just a few of the many pieces I took out (including a Leslie tremolo... that circle piece). All in all I removed probably 200 lbs of organ guts. Much of the wires look rough for wear.

Unfortunately my new Hammond didn't quite fit our old organ structure. So I took a chisel and some laminated pine and improvised. I stuffed my speakers on the inside of the organ case, and left the top part open so that we can add books. And just like that, I have a beautiful organ to play!

Long term I want to add various pedals, and a nice amp to this set up. But long long term I want my kids to learn music, especially sacred music, and maybe, just maybe, form the Millette Choir 2.0.

WYD: What'd You Draw?

I wasn't going to blog on this. But it's Friday afternoon as we approach a long weekend and, as much as I want to lesson plan for next week, it seems like it'd be more fun to tackle this, er, thing. Maybe you've seen it already. Behold the logo for the upcoming World Youth Day in Panama (2019):

My first thought when I saw it was: "Oh, it's a fidget spinner with a cross! Yes, those are on my mind too much. World Youth Day must appeal to what the kids are up to these days.

X

However, the problem is that these spinners will be hopelessly outdated by 2019. Heck, even today at our school they've already lost their appeal.

Is it supposed to be a blue drama mask?

Was it inspired by the old Canucks logo?

Was it inspired by kid scribbling?

Maybe it's one of those images which combine two pictures into one. Sort of like this Van Gogh (at least it looks like him) portrait:

The problem is, it doesn't look like anything.

Nope, not like this...

Or this...

 Or this...

The point being we Catholics have the greatest art heritage of all. The WYD logo is yet another embarrassment in our modern Catholic world. Do the creators of this think that Catholic youth are too dumb to notice? Too apathetic to care? Somehow I think the youth do notice. I sincerely hope so.

How could you not?

Making the World More Beautiful

The boys and I were reading before bed. This time the book was about a young girl who told her grandfather that she had two goals in life: 1) to travel to far away places, 2) to eventually live by the sea. The grandfather was fine with this, but he made her promise to follow a third goal: to make the world a more beautiful place. The book ends with the girl, as an older lady, planting flowers all over her town to make the world more beautiful.

At the end of the book I asked the boys the question: what are you going to do to make the world more beautiful?

John Paul: "Um, I will buy a house with a porch!"

Daddy: "A house with a porch?"

John Paul: "Yeah, I will buy the house and it will have a porch!"

- - -

Joseph: "I will make concrete that has sparkles in it. Then when you walk on it, it will sparkle."

Daddy: "Very nice."

- - -

Joseph: "What are you going to do Daddy?"

Daddy: I already have made the world more beautiful!"

Joseph: "How?"

Daddy: "I have the three most beautiful kids who make the world so beautiful!"

*the boys smile sweetly*

And it's true!

A Tale of Two Cities

I remember following the London Summer Olympics that many Catholic commentators (not the  people who read the announcements before Mass) described the opening and closing ceremonies as the secular world's version of liturgy. In this commentary it was pointed out that the secular world creates this liturgy because man has an underlying need to engage in ritual (and ultimately Divinely instituted praise of God). However, of course, the secular form of liturgy and rite fails to truly lift the human heart, and ultimately, or to use the phrase "at the end of the day," is meaningless.

Sorry, the above was a bit of a mouthful. Nevertheless, just for the sake of interest, I found it striking when comparing the London "liturgy" to the Sochi "liturgy." The London ceremonies, particularly the closing ones, were filled with rock and pop culture. They had vulgarity and even mocked Catholic tradition and beauty (immodest dancing nuns). They integrated the secular world into this liturgy. The result was, at least I found, very distasteful. And this comes from a guy who actually really enjoys British rock.

On the other hand, though I normally care little for Russian culture, I found both Sochi ceremonies to be incredibly stunning, beautiful, and even peaceful. Right from the start an emphasis was placed on the timeless classics of Russian culture. The great Russian composers were invoked. The literary classics of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy were narrated. The Red Army choir sang as only they can. The richness of costume and, gulp, even ballet was demonstrated. In effect, the Sochi ceremonies sought a timeless beauty. Secular in some respect, but still hinting at a permanence of beauty found ultimately in that one transcendent Beauty (identified through Aristolilean philosophy as God). To me, and I'm sure many others, the Sochi ceremonies were magnificent.




They made me think of the current state of Catholic liturgy. On one hand we have a large group of Catholics who desperately attempt to incorporate our modern culture into the Mass. Folk music, heck, even rock music, find their way into the Divinely instituted liturgy. The result, like the London closing ceremonies, is not beauty and inspiration but rather cheap gulps of excitement that neither raise the heart or leave peace to the soul. On the other hand, insofar as Catholic liturgy seeks the timeless art which speaks of the transcendent God (and yes, there are wonderful composers and artists in today's world who produce this beauty), all the more can we declare that we have lifted our hearts to the Lord.

vs.

or

vs.

So the Olympics were a poor-man's lesson (to the tune of 51 billion dollars) on the human heart's need to worship God not with mindless noise but rather with beauty, awe, and peace. Well done Sochi.

There you go Russia. I gave you a compliment.

You still suck at hockey though.