If you liked it then you should have put a scarf on it

We apologize to the reader for the abortive enthusiasm of the last post. Sometimes the editorial we, like Jotham, makes promises we find difficult to keep.

To dip our toe back in the water, however, a minor incident at church was of note to us. We were visiting a small branch of the church in an Austrian city last week. The Sunday School teacher was a genial 60-something local in a threadbare suit from the 70's. To begin the class we watched some dubbed excerpts from young women's conference. At the conclusion of the video the teacher turned to us.

"You know what we forgot? We forgot to pray. Is there a sister who would be willing to pray?"

A sister volunteered and as she stood to pray the teacher inserted, "Excuse me, would you mind covering your head when you pray?" The woman, who happened to be wearing a scarf, unquestioningly put it over her head and carefully tucked her hair inside of the scarf to conceal it and meekly asked the teacher, "Like this?" The teacher approved. We were stunned and scanned the room to espy whether we were the only sane ones present and noticed that this woman was the only one who had been wearing a scarf around her neck. What the heck was going on here?

At the conclusion of the prayer the teacher launched into a discussion totally unrelated to the videos he had shown. The balance of the time was spent discussing Paul's injunction that the woman cover her head, the members of the class offering approving comments. We were eager to speak out, but were prevented from doing so by our poor facility in German. What might you have done, reader?

Aufersteh'n, ja aufersteh'n wirst du mein Blog, nach kurzer Ruh'!

Triumphant return, new posts, before the week is out.

Merry Christmas

This Christmas, far away in an Islamic land, I've thought more about the Savior and the meaning of Christmas than perhaps I ever have. I've been singing Christmas songs for weeks, driving my buddies crazy I think, and in spite of the ongoing grind and lack of a Christmas season and all that entails, the world has acquired a special sheen for me recently. On Christmas Eve we went out to work before dawn and sat in a spot where we could see the whole city for most of the morning. Watching the sunrise, hearing the call to prayer and seeing the city come to life was a Christmas I will never forget. Seeing a small elder sister holding the hand of her toddler brother as they navigate the bazaar made me smile to think of my own children. The Afghan people amaze me in their ingenuity and industry. Despite the nearly unbearable hardships they face every day, they meet it with courage and carry on the best they can. They and we who do not know such troubles have all been greatly blessed. With the revelator I pray "Come, Lord Jesus, Come." Come and bring the day when the lion lies down with the lamb and we beat our swords into ploughshares.

Happy Holidays

My first missionary companion was a dedicated, smart and stubborn Elder from a foreign land. As we were tracting (going door-to-door) during the holiday season he would offer to share a Christmas message with the people we met. After he got a couple of doors slammed in his face at homes with mezuzot on the doorpost I explained to him the significance of the mezuzah and why a Jewish person might be offended by a Christian missionary offering to talk about Christmas. I also suggested that he might say "Happy Holidays" as a more neutral seasonal greeting. Perhaps my delivery was off, but my companion was deeply offended himself and said, "You don't understand my culture!" I said, "We are not in your country, I'm trying to help you." Of course there was a mezuzah on the very next door. When he offered to share a message with the person that greeted us at the door she replied, "Not interested." My companion: "Merry Christmas." Shouted reply, while slamming the door: "I'm JEWISH!!!"

We live in a pluralistic society. Those of you who find generic cultural minutiae like "Happy Holidays" which downplay "our" Christian heritage offensive you are either oversensitive or insecure in your faith. Jesus does not care whether you ever mention Christmas, the celebration of which he nor his apostles ever mandated. For those of you who are Christians, the modern much-derided "politically correct" spirit or avoiding giving offense unnecessarily is completely in line with the gospel of Jesus Christ. As Paul said, "I know, and am persuaded by the Lord Jesus, that there is nothing unclean of itself: but to him that esteemeth any thing to be unclean, to him it is unclean. But if thy brother be grieved with thy meat, now walkest thou not charitably. Destroy not him with thy meat, for whom Christ died." That is, if you know that what you eat is a stumbling block to your brother, do not eat it.

Wilford Woodruff, a successful early Mormon missionary and future prophet and president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, told a story from his English mission: "I had with me an old cloak which I got in Tennessee [. . .]. It had once been a dandy cloak, and had on keg buttons, and when new had a good deal of trimming and fancy work about it; but it was then pretty well threadbare and worn out. I wore it in Kirtland and I carried it to England with me; and when I was called by revelation to go to John Benbow's and preach the gospel I wore that cloak. I went there and found over six hundred people, called United Brethren [. . .], and they, as a people, were prepared for the word of the Lord, and I wanted to catch them in the gospel net. Before embracing the doctrine of the United Brethren, Sister Benbow had been what is called a 'lady' in England, and she had worn her silks and satins; but after obeying the doctrine of this religious body she cut up and burned and destroyed her silks and satins and wore the plainest calicoes she could get, because she thought that was religion. When I went there to preach she looked at me with this old cloak with the keg buttons on, and the Spirit of the Lord bore testimony to me that religion, so far as she was concerned, had a good deal of tradition about it, and that her faith could be tried by the coat a man wore; and as Paul said, if eating meat offended his brethren, he would never eat any more, so I felt a good deal, and one morning I went out and cut off the buttons from my old cloak, and never had a button on it afterwards. By doing this and some other things, which some perhaps would call foolish, I, through the blessing of God and with the assistance of Brother Young, George A. Smith and Willard Richards, caught the whole flock and baptized every soul except one solitary person into the church and kingdom of God."

Those who insist on public (i.e., on public or governmental land) expression of a particular religious tradition to the exclusion of another or who bristle at "Happy Holidays" would do well to consider that Jesus' apostles taught that God "hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth," that Jews, Muslims, Wiccans and atheists are our brothers and sisters and that we will be able to accomplish more united in what we hold in common that we will dwelling upon such petty matters as our neighbor's seasonal habits.

Postscript:

This reminds me of the time I asked to buy Eid ul-Fitr stamps at the post office which were advertised in a poster on the wall. I had to ask three times for Eid stamps and the confused attendant muttered, "What? Aid stamps? Like, first aid? Like, Red Cross?" So I had to break down and said, "No, the stamps for the Islamic holiday with the funny writing on them." She understood that well enough.

Listen

Due to my blogging hiatus of roughly a year from since last fall I thought I might post some of what I've been up to since my arrival in Germany. This post addresses what I've been up to quite narrowly: what I've listened to in the last year.

Beethoven's string quartets have taken up more of my listening time than anything else. I had avoided chamber music in my listening for so long until my frustration with my own ignorance of the repertoire caught up with me last year and I purchased the Takacs Quartet's recordings of the early and late quartets. I've found that while his early quartets define a comprehensible formal standard for Viennese classicism, the ingenuity of his voicing, the violence of his gestures and silences in even the earliest chamber works allows the listener enough surprise as to be vaguely unsettling without destroying the formal framework. The quartets are truly an adventure of the mind. I feel that mine isn't yet nimble enough to grasp many of the later works, but there is more than enough material for a lifetime of listening, study and thought here.

After Beethoven comes Josquin, whom I rediscovered about a year and a half ago. The Missa pange lingua, Missa l'homme armé super voces musicales and the Missa la sol fa re mi recorded by the Tallis Scholars have been a great comfort to me as has

Johann Sebastian Bach's St. Matthew Passion. The music never wears on me and never ceases to amaze me for its inventiveness and infinite variety.

There was a period this year of about a month when a ridiculous desire drove me to listen to the ballet from Sanson et Delila over and over. This small piece is as near perfection as music can be. Saint-Saëns never seemed an ambitious composer to me, but this bagatelle does everything such a piece should and exceeds expectations.

Lastly I would like to mention an addiction I've developed that surprised me. Ever since Lady Gaga became ubiquitous around 2008, the strains of "Just Dance" or "Poker Face" were a constant annoyance, but it wasn't until this February when I first noticed "Bad Romance" that I stopped to listen. I have learned to appreciate the image she has constructed of herself and the intersection of glamour, self-expression and self-concealment and surprisingly good musicality. There was a time a few months ago when I would have said that Lady Gaga was the soundtrack of my time in Afghanistan.

Sleep

Having returned from a grueling day's and night's work at 4AM I put in some headphones and began listening to Josquin des Prez' Missa Pange Lingua as I laid down to sleep. When it came to the Gloria movement and as sleep closed upon me I had a vision of a beautiful procession of animals lined up two by two: great stags and bears and other creatures of the forest. They were lined up in front of a gorgeous icon of our Savior and were doing obeisance. The song of praise flowed from the love and honor that these creatures had for the Lord and they were full of dignity and beauty.

Nürnberg

On the train to Nürnberg today for the first time I sat near a

rambunctious pack of American soldiers whose coarse boasts

made me all too eager to disembark when we finally arrived.

Ascending from the stale air of the underground portion of the

train station to the fresh, open and crowded Altstadt was in

itself enough reward for the journey. This week is the Altstadtfest

and the alleys were packed with vendors and visitors, peddling,

grasping and ignoring Lebkuchen, kebabs and overpriced

leather accessories. On the steps of St. Lorenz an older man

smoking with a crowd of mohawked teenagers accosts me, "Was

ist los?!!" I take my time to take in the wonder of the

Sebalduskirche, saddened by the remnants of war the building still

betrays. On my way out of the Sebalduskirche a jolly stocky man

approaches me and gushes, "Haben Sie Hunger?" and gave me a

large bag of pastries left over from a wedding. I climb to the top of

the town castle, which affords a breathtaking view of the old

city--I can see all its churches and slanted roofs with a sickly

industrial smoke rising from a plant in the distance. A modest

repast of penne and salad and I'm on my way home, ready to

venture further when time allows.

D&C 18:10

Speaking off the cuff to fill a few remaining minutes in sacrament meeting, my bishop turned to his quad: "Let me open up to the exact scripture here, I don't want to get this wrong. Here it is. 'Remember the worth of gold is. . . of souls, of SOULS! The worth of souls is great in the sight of God.'"

The worth is great indeed.

Siemens festival night

Siemens AG is sponsoring public showings and live internet broadcasts of performances at the Bayreuth and Salzburg Festivals. Tomorrow, July 30, will be the internet broadcast of Cosìfan tutte from the Salzburg Festival. It costs €7.90. August 9 Tristan und Isolde will be shown for a fee of €14.90.

The oldest musical instrument in the world

A bone flute, estimated to be 35,000 years old, was discovered last year in the Hohle Fels cave near Ulm in Baden-Württemberg, as reported in Nature. This cave was also the site where the oldest known example of figurative art, a stone "Venus" statue, was found. Two independent labs reached similar conclusions on the dating of the flute through radiocarbon dating using different techniques. The date roughly coincides with initial settlement of the area by Homo sapiens. The article in The New York Times is a nice summary.

Moral of the Story

Listening to La Bohème on the road the other day I was struck by the obvious: when on your way to the pawn shop to sell an item of clothing to be able to pay for a doctor's visit for a dying friend, DO NOT stop to sing an aria to said piece of clothing!  Time is of the essence!!!

Desert rain seen from the High Chisos

Parable of the Fruit

There was a tree, plain and unbecoming that bore the finest yellow fruit.  When the tree was first found in a dark corner of a remote forest, those who tasted it could hardly believe such a wonder had passed so long unknown to the larger world.  Seeds were brought back to the city and the tree could soon be found in all manner of places.  Some who tasted it were glad to have tasted such a wonder.  Others refused because in shape and form it was unlike anything they had eaten.  Some found it too sweet and didn’t think it right to take anything so different from their blander daily fare.  Some who passed by the tree were disgusted by its ungainly appearance and despised the fruit.  “How could anything good come from such a tree?” they asked.  Others said, “God would not place a good fruit on a bad tree.”  There were some food enthusiasts who praised the fruit highly, grew their own trees and enjoyed eating it in the presence of others because they had heard how fine it was, but could hardly stand the smell of it and wouldn’t touch it when eating alone.  Stranger still, there were scientists who made the plant and its fruit the object of exacting study and have never eaten the fruit.  Indeed, most people never touched it and found it little more than an ugly curiosity.  There are a few however, who treasure the fruit and the pleasure of its taste, though most people still prefer potatoes.

Passover

With nothing better to do in a small southwestern country town on a Saturday I attended my first Passover Seder today. To my surprise, the impressive local brick Congregation Beth Israel building has stood for 75 years, though the community is now very small. There were perhaps twenty of us at the meal. As there was no rabbi a female lay leader read many of the blessings and we took turns reading from the Passover story out of The Family Seder, published in 1967. We sang some songs, one of which will definitely stay with me, expressing thanks that if God had only delivered us from Egypt we would be thankful and satisfied, as we would had he only given us manna, or given us the promised land, etc. How strange it was for me to find exegesis and liturgy to be united, and very satisfying, with the haggadah exploring meanings and readings of the stories and rituals. Must I also confess it was troubling as the twin shadows of Cold War and Zionist rhetoric loomed over the rituals in this particular edition of the Seder, everything an emblem of Western political liberalism and its insatiable demand for sacrifice? This and the final prayer for God's fiery vengeance on Israel's enemies (the only amen that failed me) had a bitter taste and when I came home to read John 19-21 made the drama of the text so real for me. God do not let me blame them or anyone, their failings are ours and when we sin we crucify Christ anew. God have mercy on me and all of us.

I had attended a stations of the cross at the Catholic church last week as well, and while the pain and compassion at what Christ suffered was sharp and present, the whole pageant seemed so unreal and distant from the heart of the Passion. How grateful I am for Jesus, who died for us. By God's grace, may his atonement heal us all and the whole earth. Oh thank you God.

Gospel Doctrine

Before the opening prayer the teacher started making the rounds, passing a bamboo kebab skewer to each class member.  "Everybody gets a stick, everybody gets a stick.  OK, here's your stick.  Everyone gets to participate because that's how we learn by the spirit.  Don't poke each other, they're sharp, ha.  We're going to pass out these sticks.  Alright, last one.  Now I need two volunteers.  Alright, sister, I need you to break your stick."  The sister easily snaps it in two.  "Alright, second volunteer, here's our second volunteer.  OK, who loves this brother?  Who will give him their stick?  He needs your sticks."  Class members slowly begin to pass their sticks to the brother one by one.  He ends up with perhaps 16 skewers.  "He's going to try to break these sticks, but he'll find it's harder.  When we're united, we can't be broken."  With a great crack bambo dust bursts into the air and all over the brother's pants as he breaks all the skewers together in a feat of strength.

Ballet and loathing

Several weeks ago a friend who teaches piano invited me over to scavenge through a stack of music she was throwing away. Nothing remarkable--some Chopin, Mendelssohn and Rachmaninoff piano duets I gladly picked out, but it was something else entirely that caught my fancy. I was powerless to resist the urge as I placed it on the stand and eagerly played with more passion and relish than I have in a long time. I had made it to Dance of the Mirlitons before I abruptly stopped in the middle of an elegant gesture, slammed the book shut and reached for some Schubert. That's right, gentle reader, it was a piano reduction of the Nutcracker Suite that so delighted me until the shame of playing Tchaikovsky in February overwhelmed me and I had to move on and pretend it hadn't happened. I can't wait to play it again.

Ite, missa est

Like any self-respecting Mormon intellectual, I have a bad case of liturgy envy.  So, when presented the chance to attend a Latin Tridentine Mass at a local mission church I could ne'er answer nay.  Benedict XVI issued a decree called Summorum Pontificum in 2007 which facilitated the celebration of the Mass in Latin at the request of the faithful.  My understanding is this local church began holding Tridentine Mass last fall.

Having not yet experienced the older rite, the savory incense and gentle dialogue of the antiphon I welcomed and enjoyed more finely for the anticipation, but for all that was new and strange I must say I benefited most from the strong homily that was offered.  The gospel reading for the day was Mark 9:2-10, I think, about the transfiguration of Jesus.  The priest taught how though Jesus had always had the nature the disciples saw with their eyes that day, it was hidden from their sight.  It was in these times when the glory of Christ was veiled that the disciples jockeyed for honor, bickered, denied and betrayed and this was how we all lived--coming from moments of divine grace and insight back to our ordinary experience where we must sort out the particulars of Christian living.  For the priest, the faithful's experience of Christ in the eucharist was the prime example.  The priest took Peter's "It is good for us to be here" as true for the faithful, for whom it is "good to be here": in the church, celebrating the mass, taking communion.  He spoke of the "terror and tenderness" of the disciples' experience on the mountain and the faithful's experience of the eucharist.  Reading this episode in the gospels, I have often found myself moved at Peter's plain exclamation, remarkable not only for how obvious it is, but at what was left unsaid of his own terror and delight at being in the presence of heavenly beings.  He's at a loss for words at his own spiritual experience, something I can surely relate to.  I've thought back on those words, "It is good for us to be here" many times in my life as I've been shown that a circumstance is just where the Lord would have me be.  What a blessed thing, may I be there always.

The priest's comments regarding Christ's divine nature being veiled from human view during his early ministry and the head coverings worn by many women present had me pondering the veiling of glory, from Paul's teaching ("woman is the glory of the man [. . .] if a woman have long hair it is a glory to her" 1 Cor 11: 7,15) to Moses (Exodus 34:33-35) to some Latter-Day Saint practices.  Is veiling to protect the sacred or preserve the ignorant?  What is the meaning of veiling?

In other news, the talks in our own sacrament meeting were on the theme "steadfast faith in Christ."  As I listened to the youth speaker compare a saint's waiting on the Lord for blessings to seeing candy fall and slide through the workings of a transparent glorified gumball machine I was struck at how years ago I would have found this trivial and out of keeping with whatever imagined teaching the speaker had in mind but now found it entirely appropriate.  The last speaker, when reviewing ways to "increase our faith" urged us to do what was right with no thought of reward, which I was impressed to note reiterated Jesus' teaching in Luke 17:5-10 almost exactly without the speaker seeming to be aware.  

Ladies and Gentlemen

For those of you longing for the good old days of genuine urban outrage, may I respectfully submit for your consideration the following:

دام
Ramallah Underground
NiZ-R

The New York Times also ran an article last week on an Iraqi group of another stripe featured in a documentary a couple of years ago.

Best of 2008

Doubt
I can't overstate how much I appreciated this film taken from the play by John Patrick Shanley, which rather than exploiting an issue so prominent in the public consciousness for social ends, forges a mighty spiritual and ethical parable. Much has been said of Philip Seymour Hoffman of late, but of course this is Meryl Streep's movie, which she commands with as much authority as Sister Aloysius does the Saint Nicholas school. The range of her shrieks, scowls and glances is well complimented by Hoffman's meek modulations of tone and expression. You must see this film.

Man on Wire
This little-known documentery is a beautiful film about a great acrobat and unsavory human being, Phillipe Petit, who in 1974 with a group of friends perpetrated a coup of guerrilla performance art by walking without a safety net on a high-wire strung between the twin towers of the World Trade Center. At turns sentimental, funny and thrilling, this documentary manages to entertain as few do.

Gran Torino
I will not say this is a great film, but it is a good one with an uplifting message. As you all know, Clint Eastwood directs himself in this tale of a retired widower confronting the realities of family relationships, immigrant neighbors and gang activity. With middle-of-the-road acting and directing where this movie dares is in dealing with what so few seem to treat honestly and convincingly: relationships.

WALL-E
Who could have guessed that one of the most poetic and telling meditations on the meaning of humanity in the midst of technology in recent years would be a kids movie? (If you have more adult fare in mind, you might be disappointed.)

Encounters at the End of the World
This even lesser-known documentary was the work of director Werner Herzog. Must I say more? Herzog is enthralled by Antarctica. Herzog goes to Antarctica. Herzog interviews and films assorted scientists and grifters in Antarctica. Herzog goes home. In addition to stunning footage and hilarious interviews, Herzog makes excellent use of the gorgeous soundtrack. A bagatelle of a film and an experience, it was dedicated to notable amorphous blob Roger Ebert.

Not of 2008 but in it simply because I first saw these for the first time this year:

Fitzcarraldo
This film is Werner Herzog's lyrical musing on the adventures of a man with impossible dreams. Famously featuring a riverboat dragged over a mountain, this film simultaneously enchants and alienates not only through the half-madness of its hero, but in its own execution. Klaus Kinski as the hero captures an innocence unseen in some of his other work

Le Hussard sur le Toit (The Horseman on the Roof)
Costume drama? Adventure movie? Set in 1832 and complete with Austrian spies, cholera and revolutionaries, this film manages to capture the flavor of July Monarchy France in its use of symbolism, portrayal of social customs and denial of romantic consummation to the lovely couple: a radiant Juliette Binoche and a frantic Olivier Martinez. A very fine film.

Faith-promoting rumor?

At church today a ward member claimed Elder Ballard recently said that for the first time in history there is now a member of the church living in every nation on earth and I instantly found myself thinking, "Really? Bhutan? Congo? East Timor?" The list went on and as I came to Somalia and Sudan I wondered whether the temporary presence of members from western nations working for their respective governments, military forces or NGO's was considered sufficient presence in dozens of such nations to allow a general authority to make such a statement. How meaningful is that? Did Elder Ballard even say this? If so, how does he know? Who's the Mormon in Bhutan? What say ye, noble readers?