But for a split second I almost thought about getting a subscription to Touchstone again after reading this complete rubbish. Petit-bourgeois liberalism and its decadent petty "liberations" - sigh, so astoundingly worthless. Middle class white straight males might veer a bit away from gender normativity in parental roles by being exposed to subcultures wherein gay male parents are present. Great. What does that amount to exactly? Dad changes one more diaper a week and washes dishes once more a week? Talk about first world problems. Cuz, like, I mean, totally, like, my mother told me when I was ten years old that I would have to do those thing if I got married. Wait, not my mother, parent #1, or at least I assume the mother is parent #1, as I met her before I met my father. And this idea that middle class gay families are going to facilitate the transformation of middle class straight families, such that they will now have an "understanding of sexuality as gift from God" and then de-instrumentalize their own sexualities (because, as we all know, when you think "middle class gay cultures" you naturally think "avoidance of the instumentalization of sex" - first thing that comes to mind, of course), all in the context of the American
I generally try to avoid identity politics quarrels, with the exception of my being quite sympathetic to what we might call 2nd and 1/2 wave feminism, or something like that, and as an old leftist I consider race matters as existing prior to new leftist identity politics trajectories, even if the new left has royally messed up racial politics like it has so many other things [screw victim-hood and its cults - the old left was about fighting back and coherent organizational struggles, not perpetual whining and constant appeals to white guilt and the psychologicalization of the oppressed into quasi-divine impotent victims].
But for a split second I almost thought about getting a subscription to Touchstone again after reading this complete rubbish. Petit-bourgeois liberalism and its decadent petty "liberations" - sigh, so astoundingly worthless. Middle class white straight males might veer a bit away from gender normativity in parental roles by being exposed to subcultures wherein gay male parents are present. Great. What does that amount to exactly? Dad changes one more diaper a week and washes dishes once more a week? Talk about first world problems. Cuz, like, I mean, totally, like, my mother told me when I was ten years old that I would have to do those thing if I got married. Wait, not my mother, parent #1, or at least I assume the mother is parent #1, as I met her before I met my father. And this idea that middle class gay families are going to facilitate the transformation of middle class straight families, such that they will now have an "understanding of sexuality as gift from God" and then de-instrumentalize their own sexualities (because, as we all know, when you think "middle class gay cultures" you naturally think "avoidance of the instumentalization of sex" - first thing that comes to mind, of course), all in the context of the Americanmiddle comfort class - identity as commodity - my life the movie in which my sexuality is a tool the Church needs, because everything I do, even with my penis, is, like, meta-narrative in importance. Uh, yeah.
But for a split second I almost thought about getting a subscription to Touchstone again after reading this complete rubbish. Petit-bourgeois liberalism and its decadent petty "liberations" - sigh, so astoundingly worthless. Middle class white straight males might veer a bit away from gender normativity in parental roles by being exposed to subcultures wherein gay male parents are present. Great. What does that amount to exactly? Dad changes one more diaper a week and washes dishes once more a week? Talk about first world problems. Cuz, like, I mean, totally, like, my mother told me when I was ten years old that I would have to do those thing if I got married. Wait, not my mother, parent #1, or at least I assume the mother is parent #1, as I met her before I met my father. And this idea that middle class gay families are going to facilitate the transformation of middle class straight families, such that they will now have an "understanding of sexuality as gift from God" and then de-instrumentalize their own sexualities (because, as we all know, when you think "middle class gay cultures" you naturally think "avoidance of the instumentalization of sex" - first thing that comes to mind, of course), all in the context of the American
Ratzingerian Marxists
"The manipulation of life, originating in the developments of technology and of the violence inherent in the processes of globalization in the absence of a new international order, puts us in the presence of an unprecedented anthropological emergency. This appears to us to be the most serious manifestation and at the same time the deepest root of the crisis of democracy. It sprouts challenges that demand a new alliance between men and women, believers and nonbelievers, religions and politics."
The "Ratzingerian Marxists" charge the left in Italy and the West with having given in to "falsely libertarian cultures, for which there exists no right other than the right of the individual."
Fascinating.
Read more here. I wish the writings of these Ratzingerian Marxists was available in English.
Thanks Daniel Nichols for bringing this to my attention.
The "Ratzingerian Marxists" charge the left in Italy and the West with having given in to "falsely libertarian cultures, for which there exists no right other than the right of the individual."
Fascinating.
Read more here. I wish the writings of these Ratzingerian Marxists was available in English.
Thanks Daniel Nichols for bringing this to my attention.
r.i.p.
I'm going to briefly interrupt my sabbatical today to note the passing of one of America's better poets. Jack Gilbert died today.
One of my favorites of his poems is this one:
The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart
How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their ancient
tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would
finally explain why the couples on their tombs
are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands
of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,
they seemed to be business records. But what if they
are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.
O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind's labor.
Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts
of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred
pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what
my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this
desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not laguage but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.
My friend James Raines had a fine brief summary of the man:
At 87 years old, the poet Jack Gilbert died today. He often wrote about what it was like to grow up in a working class neighborhood in Pittsburgh. Many of his poems express a sense of alienation from the lives of others, even those he desperately loved. He sang his songs for a time, tonight the room is silent.
And the Gilbert poem perhaps most poignant on the day of his death:
Refusing Heaven
The old women in black at early Mass in winter
are a problem for him.
He could tell by their eyes
they have seen Christ. They make the kernel
of his being and the clarity around it
seem meager, as though he needs girders
to hold up his unusable soul. But he chooses
against the Lord. He will not abandon his life.
Not his childhood, not the ninety-two bridges
across the two rivers of his youth. Nor the mills
along the banks where he became a young man
as he worked. The mills are eaten away, and eaten
again by the sun and its rusting. He needs them
even though they are gone, to measure against.
The silver is worn down to the brass underneath
and is the better for it. He will gauge
by the smell of concrete sidewalks after night rain.
He is like an old ferry dragged on to the shore,
a home in its smashed grandeur, with the giant beams
and joists. Like a wooden ocean out of control.
A beached heart. A cauldron of cooling melt.
they have seen Christ. They make the kernel
of his being and the clarity around it
seem meager, as though he needs girders
to hold up his unusable soul. But he chooses
against the Lord. He will not abandon his life.
Not his childhood, not the ninety-two bridges
across the two rivers of his youth. Nor the mills
along the banks where he became a young man
as he worked. The mills are eaten away, and eaten
again by the sun and its rusting. He needs them
even though they are gone, to measure against.
The silver is worn down to the brass underneath
and is the better for it. He will gauge
by the smell of concrete sidewalks after night rain.
He is like an old ferry dragged on to the shore,
a home in its smashed grandeur, with the giant beams
and joists. Like a wooden ocean out of control.
A beached heart. A cauldron of cooling melt.
May his refusing heart find a place at Abraham's table.
Because of another writing project, I am taking at least a month off of blogging at this blog. I'll be back around Thanksgiving, or not.
I've reverted to draft all of the prior posts on this blog. In December of this year, perhaps, I'll be restructuring my new media work here and elsewhere and don't want to have to think about that for the time being, nor do I want to have to manage comments on old material. Thank you for your patience. Until we meet again in pixels, or not.
“With oleographs?” you say. “Oh, what a pity!”
I've read this poem through several times since sancrucensis put it up, and each time I read it I like it more. It is a perfect expression of its subject. In it is a perfect rebuke of certain converty aesthetic puritanisms.
The poem is right there in the Collected Poems, but somehow I missed it when reading through Betjeman some years ago.
The poem is right there in the Collected Poems, but somehow I missed it when reading through Betjeman some years ago.
Pew it stinks out there.
A lot is being made of the new Pew numbers out, showing continued declines for churches and the now one in five Americans who don't affiliate with religion. One thing I see a lot coming from traditionally oriented Christians is the taking of the opportunity to yet again mock the fish in the barrel that are "spiritual but not religious" persons.
Every day when I go to work I get in the car, pass the JW Kingdom Hall on the corner of my street, then pass an Islamic center, then pass two decidedly health and wealth (you can tell from the messages on the signs out front) black pentecostal churches, and that is within a mile or so from my house. I probably pass 30 or so churches on the way to work (12 miles - Memphis does have the highest number of churches per capita of any city in the country). Sometimes I take an alternative route which runs me by 15 different churches than the usual route. So let's call the total number of churches 45. From what I know of these churches via things heard about them or their signage or their folks coming to my house and leaving literature and/or talking to me, I would rather my kids grow up to be "spiritual but not religious" than attend any these churches, with the possible exception of one of them.
In my adult life, I have visited many hundreds of parishes - Mainline Prot, Evangelical, Catholic, Orthodox, Quaker, Unitarian, etc. I suppose I'd rather my kids grow up to be "spiritual but not religious" than attend approximately half of the parishes I have visited in my adult life, and that includes some particularly disordered Catholic and Orthodox ones.
Of all the bosses I've had in my life, the worst have been the practicing Christians, with the possible exception of one who was a mix of incredibly benevolent and patient and incredibly condescending and dysfunctional. The best boss I've ever had is my current one - a philandering agnostic who brags about the number of abortions he paid for when he was in the local rich kid Evangelical high school. The "spiritual but not religious" bosses I've had have generally been level headed and competent and fair. My wife's best boss ever is a liberal Catholic - one of those most trad and conservative Catholics I know would rather not be in the RCC and one who sounds, when she talks about faith matters, like she is "spiritual and not religious" -- she likes to "thank the universe" for things and send out "positive energy" and so forth. Every Prot Christian my wife has ever worked for has been a royal pain in the ass. So was the one Orthodox boss she briefly had (though that doesn't really count because he was a convert and his "boss style" was decidedly conservative Evangelical - he was also a monkabee who espoused the most overt antinomianism I've ever heard from an Orthodox in person, but when it came to running his business, whew - then he was all scruples and rigidity and micromanagement and dotting every i and crossing every t and yelling at you if you put too much mustard on the sandwich, and let me tell you, if my wife thinks you pay too much attention to detail and are anal about it when doing a job, you are one seriously fucked up freak). My wife told me once that she plans on only working for liberal Catholics from here on out. They drink a lot, they throw good parties, and they are generous.
We've shared this with my mother, and with a number of friends of ours, and sure enough, a sizable chunk of my friends seem to agree with my mother that "Christians make the worst bosses" (usually they mean by that Evangelicals, fundies, and other conservative Prots).
In every school setting I have ever found myself in, the "spiritual but not religious" folks were the sort that were more likely than the overtly hostile-to-spiritual-things or overtly religious to be reliable without being annoying. Those that made a point of letting you know that they were practicing Christians were, 7 times out of 10, not the sort of people most of us would want to spend much time with, whereas most of the folks I have known outside of more alternative-ish (wannabe hippy - hippies younger than the age of 50 tend to be irritating as all get out) circles who self-identify as "spiritual but not religious" have been fairly easy to work with and get along with and benign enough in their spouting interpretations of life and the world, etc.
None of this is a proof of anything, of course, or an argument, or meant to sway anyone's opinion about anything. It's just anecdotal ephemera from my life. And it probably has something to do with why, when I hear the Pew numbers, I think, "well, of course."
Every day when I go to work I get in the car, pass the JW Kingdom Hall on the corner of my street, then pass an Islamic center, then pass two decidedly health and wealth (you can tell from the messages on the signs out front) black pentecostal churches, and that is within a mile or so from my house. I probably pass 30 or so churches on the way to work (12 miles - Memphis does have the highest number of churches per capita of any city in the country). Sometimes I take an alternative route which runs me by 15 different churches than the usual route. So let's call the total number of churches 45. From what I know of these churches via things heard about them or their signage or their folks coming to my house and leaving literature and/or talking to me, I would rather my kids grow up to be "spiritual but not religious" than attend any these churches, with the possible exception of one of them.
In my adult life, I have visited many hundreds of parishes - Mainline Prot, Evangelical, Catholic, Orthodox, Quaker, Unitarian, etc. I suppose I'd rather my kids grow up to be "spiritual but not religious" than attend approximately half of the parishes I have visited in my adult life, and that includes some particularly disordered Catholic and Orthodox ones.
Of all the bosses I've had in my life, the worst have been the practicing Christians, with the possible exception of one who was a mix of incredibly benevolent and patient and incredibly condescending and dysfunctional. The best boss I've ever had is my current one - a philandering agnostic who brags about the number of abortions he paid for when he was in the local rich kid Evangelical high school. The "spiritual but not religious" bosses I've had have generally been level headed and competent and fair. My wife's best boss ever is a liberal Catholic - one of those most trad and conservative Catholics I know would rather not be in the RCC and one who sounds, when she talks about faith matters, like she is "spiritual and not religious" -- she likes to "thank the universe" for things and send out "positive energy" and so forth. Every Prot Christian my wife has ever worked for has been a royal pain in the ass. So was the one Orthodox boss she briefly had (though that doesn't really count because he was a convert and his "boss style" was decidedly conservative Evangelical - he was also a monkabee who espoused the most overt antinomianism I've ever heard from an Orthodox in person, but when it came to running his business, whew - then he was all scruples and rigidity and micromanagement and dotting every i and crossing every t and yelling at you if you put too much mustard on the sandwich, and let me tell you, if my wife thinks you pay too much attention to detail and are anal about it when doing a job, you are one seriously fucked up freak). My wife told me once that she plans on only working for liberal Catholics from here on out. They drink a lot, they throw good parties, and they are generous.
We've shared this with my mother, and with a number of friends of ours, and sure enough, a sizable chunk of my friends seem to agree with my mother that "Christians make the worst bosses" (usually they mean by that Evangelicals, fundies, and other conservative Prots).
In every school setting I have ever found myself in, the "spiritual but not religious" folks were the sort that were more likely than the overtly hostile-to-spiritual-things or overtly religious to be reliable without being annoying. Those that made a point of letting you know that they were practicing Christians were, 7 times out of 10, not the sort of people most of us would want to spend much time with, whereas most of the folks I have known outside of more alternative-ish (wannabe hippy - hippies younger than the age of 50 tend to be irritating as all get out) circles who self-identify as "spiritual but not religious" have been fairly easy to work with and get along with and benign enough in their spouting interpretations of life and the world, etc.
None of this is a proof of anything, of course, or an argument, or meant to sway anyone's opinion about anything. It's just anecdotal ephemera from my life. And it probably has something to do with why, when I hear the Pew numbers, I think, "well, of course."
Some post-Pussy Riot brand reconstruction. I remember this Orthodox blogger who used to bitch and moan all the time about how this was the direction Orthodoxy was headed. Maybe he was right.
the political economy of bullshit.
Not bad overall, but the first few minutes is a fine start for a talk of this nature.
The last one a sculpture in front of his basilica in Assisi, which depicts that point in his life when he was in a very depressed state, having left the crusades because of a vision in which Christ tells him to leave the army and go home to await another vision.
The top photo reminds me of my father, who is a lover of birds.
burn baby burn.
Who knows who created this thing? It could just have easily been an Obomber supporter.
I sometimes wonder if there is or has been any other modern nation whose people have found so many different ways to hate each other. Why can't people be more like me and just hate the rich, and theology grad students (other than you, of course, dear reader), and people who play video games (other than Kyle H and Teena's family), and those jackasses who put Chimay in the fridge, and monkabee clerics (which is very distinct from monks, mind you), and the folks responsible for canceling the show Arrested Development? Focus people, focus.
I don't feel like writing.
---because, after all, the center of the universe is Georgia. I'm not entirely kidding. Once, when in my high school library reading National Geographic because they had nothing worth reading which I hadn't already read, I read a long article on Georgia which convinced me that I was born in the wrong nation. It impressed me enough that I have a daughter with that name (OK, I had a grandmother named Georgia too; whatever).
On that note, there are no religious images in this world which haunt me more than this one:
Righteous Lot.
---because, after all, the center of the universe is Georgia. I'm not entirely kidding. Once, when in my high school library reading National Geographic because they had nothing worth reading which I hadn't already read, I read a long article on Georgia which convinced me that I was born in the wrong nation. It impressed me enough that I have a daughter with that name (OK, I had a grandmother named Georgia too; whatever).
On that note, there are no religious images in this world which haunt me more than this one:
Righteous Lot.
spa Mass
I've seen this going around amongst Orthodox (first in blogdom, then on FB) who seem pleased at this example of Rome getting its act together. The archbishop here is the man about to take over the helm of the San Fran RC diocese (its got him a bit stressed out). He is a conservative, and the diocese is not, and this has created some spectacle. Anyway, this video has folks moderately excited for some reason. I'm not sure why. The musical performance is so so, and the liturgy is spotty with a fair amount of awkward moments when the players don't seem to know exactly what they are supposed to be doing. But it ain't a clown Mass I guess. Though a spa setting seems pretty clownish..
I find it somewhere between fitting and ironic that this is being presented as an indicator of a healthier Rome. This Mass took place at a Napa Valley resort spa. The Meritage Resort and Spa to be exact. According to the Napa Institute registration page, to attend the Thursday through Sunday conference of conservative American Catholics preaching to their choir, you had to pay $1500 to the Institute, in addition to accommodations and travel costs. There was a group discount for conference attendees (probably 10-15% off), but the normal July rates at that spa are $322 - $702 a night for a room, so you have another grand a night to drop on a room, not to mention meals, drinks, and and so forth. Do we even have to ask the question anymore - who is conservative ("neo-Cath") American Catholicism for? Make fun of SSPX and other trad groups all you want. Their conferences cost like $45 plus Super 8 accommodations. I'd love to hear Mark and Louise Zwicks' take on this.
But more on this later, when I return to my current post series, and recollect the days when I met Tom Monaghan and his crew that has done so much to remake white American Catholicism.
R.I.P.
Eric Hobsbawm. Guardian obit, Jacobin obit, [update: another Jacobin],with other (a few among the many) notices here and here and here.
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