Week 38: Songs To Listen To
Songs to listen to again and again, a beautiful way of showing and sharing a part of what makes us tick, of celebrating our variety and expanding the awareness of our collective souls...
09/16:
TWL, Lines 322-330: After...
322 After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
323 After the frosty silence in the gardens
324 After the agony in stony places
325 The shouting and the crying
326 Prison and palace and reverberation
327 Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
328 He who was living is now dead
329 We who were living are now dying
330 With a little patience
322. REORDERING: See line 427: “Shall I at least set my lands in order?” After the disorder of the first four parts of this poem, part five opens with four lines, one for each part, summarizing where we have been so far. The sections are still out of order for now, but earth, air, fire and water are now revisited with the word “after.” This follows lines 297-280 (“After the event he wept”); see note 279 for what the event may be, but “after,” repeatedly spoken, now suggests an opening willingness to move forward.
AFTER THE TORCHLIGHT: See the fire of Part III, with its river sweat (line 266), red sails (line 270) and incessant burning (line 308).
HOLY WEEK is also reflected at lines 322-330, with several specific Gethsemene references (torch, sweat, garden, agony) ; see also notes 71, 321.5, 322, 366 and 393, and see Luke 22: 39-45 (note 0.5): “And he [Jesus] came out, and went, as he was wont, to the mount of Olives; and his disciples also followed him. And when he was at the place, he said unto them, Pray that ye enter not into temptation. And he was withdrawn from them about a stone's cast, and kneeled down, and prayed, Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done. And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground. And when he rose up from prayer, and was come to his disciples, he found them sleeping for sorrow.”
See also Matthew 26:36 (note 0.5), placing this prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane; and John 18:3 (note 0.5), adding soldiers’ torches to the scene; and compare these to the torches in Whitman, Memories 6 (see notes 2, 61).
323. AFTER THE FROST: See the water of Part IV (see note 311.5) and its association with the drowned girl in the hyacinth garden (lines 37 and 38).
324. AFTER STONY PLACES: See the earth of Part I (see note 0.5), with its stony rubbish (line 20). See also Matthew 13:5 (note 0.5):
“Some [seeds] fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth.”
325. AFTER SHOUTING AND CRYING: See the air and talk of Part II (see note 76.5). “After” is implied here (see note 322), perhaps not uttered to keep with a developing pattern of threes (see note 434).
330. BEFORE THE EPIPHANY: See Cleanth Brooks, Modern Poetry and the Tradition 7: The Waste Land: Critique of the Myth (1939)., noting the limbo of those “living ...now dying” in split levels of life and death. See also note 64. This description of “he” and “we” also reflects the mood of the disciples on the road to Emmaus (see note 366): in their grieving, before Jesus was revealed to them, they talked to him and walked with him and listened to him and finally asked him to tarry with them longer over a meal, all “with a little patience” (line 330).
09/17:
Meditations of a Waiting Room
Today we meditated: father, son
And waited on a Wednesday afternoon
To see the doctor of attention spans
Whom we had hoped to meet at four pm
But found her overbooked and in demand.
We found ourselves within a waiting room
Of fellow patients of psychiatry
(And those of us along for the support)
For two full hours, and ironically
Amid the stacks of social magazines
And with a background television on,
Among a sampling of the population
Listening to hear their names be called,
We meditated. Unexpectedly
My son, the one who never could sit still,
Is starting to mature before my eyes.
He’s waiting here more patiently than me,
And I begin to wonder anymore
If he’d been diagnosed with ADD
A bit to hastily back in the day
When he was acting all of eight years old
And telegraphing his apparent need
For Adderol, if we have come this far
Again to have his old prescription filled
More out of habit than necessity,
And if there isn’t better therapy
In meditations of a waiting room
Than medications of amphetamine.
Today we meditated: everyone
Who waited with us had a different need,
A different habit, if their trials be told,
And yet we seem to be so much the same,
At least as far as anyone reveals.
I don’t begrudge the doctor for her role
In getting us to recognize ourselves
And realize how simple life can be,
How we all need this opportunity
Of time, however given, to reflect
On simple things, like having empathy
Or understanding our maturity
Or sitting in positions of support
Or being patient in a waiting room.
My father once was in a waiting room
For me. The wait was relatively short
And our trial was a different one to tell,
A different diagnosis, but the same
Prognosis: Give it time, give it time.
The doctor didn’t specify these words
Or scribble his prescription b.i.d.,
But as he had my father wait outside
He talked to me a while, and then he asked
If I played chess. This took me by surprise,
But I said yes, and so the troubled teen
And the Psy.D. played chess while the old man
Was waiting in the hall, more patiently
Than I appreciated, until now.
09/18:
Songs To Listen To
...This next piece is inspired by brother Joshua’s persistent Symposian call for submissions of S2L2A&A: songs to listen to again and again. Thank you Josh. Here is what my kids and I came up with.
Andrew
The state of Massachusetts by Drop Kick Murphy
Back aginst the wall by Cage the Elephant
Horchata by Vampire weekend
Little lion man by Mumford and Sons
Fool on the hill by The Beatles
For what its worth by buffolo Springfield
Pumped up kids by Fosters the People
Baby you can drive my car by The Beatles
Kids by MGMT
We dont need no education by Pink Floyd
If your going to be dumb you got to be tough by Smut Peddler
I will walk 500 miles by The Proclaimers
We are young by Fun.
Kirsten
Rise
Beck - Morning
Samuel Barber - Adagio for Strings, op. 11
Radiohead - Faust Arp
Yann Tiersen (Amelie) - Comptine d'un autre été
Beyoncé - Haunted
Zenith
Lana Del Rey - Money Power Glory
Mark Ronson - Uptown Funk
Xtreme - Te Extraño
Die Antwoord - Ugly Boy
Lana Del Rey - F***ed My Way Up To the Top
Set
TLC - No Scrubs
Arctic Monkeys - Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?
Juanes - Fotografía
Destiny’s Child - Say My Name
Beck - Turn Away
Jon
WE WILL DRAW NEAR
1. Adiemus, by YCTC
2. Forever Young, by Bob Dylan
3. Shine On You Crazy Diamond, Parts I-V, by Pink Floyd
4. Tintinabulum, by YCTC
WALKING SONG
5. Modern Man, by Arcade Fire
6. Have a Talk With God, by Stevie Wonder
7. Modern Love, by David Bowie
8. Rococo, by Arcade Fire
STARRY NIGHT
9. Widow’s Grove, by Tom Waits
10. Vincent, by Don McLean
11. Pictures of You, by The Cure
12. Take It With Me, by Tom Waits
09/19:
Baptism Of Joshua Paul
A Sermon by Joseph Vold, October 12, 1969
Text: John 9: 24-41
If we had a person here in our midst who had been blind from the day he was born, and now on this day, he hears the word of a physician —and follows it and of a sudden —he is no longer blind but can see —SAY WE WITNESSED THIS we would be overwhelmed by the event. He was blind, but now he can see —oh,! we would be amazed by the fact! We would be mightily impressed, and would never forget it. BUT THAT HAPPENED HERE TODAY IN OUR VERY MIDST. Through baptism. It has happened to this child, Joshua Paul.
In the catacombs of Rome where early Christians gathered to hide from hostile authorities to keep from being killed and to live and to worship, they left on the walls frescoes, pictures of what they treasured. The story of the man born blind appears seven times in catacomb art, most frequently as an illustration of Christian baptism. This story was taken by the early church as an interpretation of what happens in baptism.
When the early Christians were about to baptize a person who had been prepared and was brought forward to be a member of the Body of Christ, i.e. the church, they read Chapter 9 of John —the story of the man born blind and healed through washing —they read this chapter together.
The early Church Fathers referred to baptism as the washing away of blindness. Tertullian opened his book (or tract) on baptism with the words ‘Happy is the sacrament of our water, in that, by washing away the sins of our early blindness, we are set free unto eternal life.’
Augustine comments on our text: “This blindman stands for the human race ....if the blindness is lack of faith, then the seeing (illumination) is faith .... He washes his eyes in that pool which is
interpreted ‘one who has been sent’; he was baptized in Christ.”
I would like to draw from the entire ninth chapter of John for our sermon today to show what God does in baptism. FOR THE MAN BORN BLIND WHO IS MET BY CHRIST AND HIS LOVING ACTION: Instead of darkness or blindness, there is light and ability to see. There is much stress on the fact that the man in our text was born blind. It is mentioned —this fact of being blind at birth —no less than seven times.
Now when we consider a little child —that cuddly little bundle who is so winning —mostly because he is so small and helpless and dependent —we overlook this fact of his being blind. Unless he is enlightened, unless he receives the vision of God he will remain in darkness —He will not know who he is and what he came into the world for. But Christ comes and brings enlightenment starting with the washing of baptism. The one who has the Christ and his light through faith has the vision of God.
But how can such a little child be enlightened? He does not know, surely he does not know what is going on. He cannot have faith or comprehension. So some will argue.
The only way this little one is going to know of Christ (have the vision of God) is if the church loves him —and, loving him, teach him of the good news we have. The first and second —and third lesson —and all the way through the last lesson we teach should be this: God loves you so much that he has adopted you to be his own, and we, the church, love and care for you as a brother. You start teaching that lesson from the very first day. We know that an infant child may not understand much but he surely feeds on love —and he is nourished by the love that people can give to him. The parents can love him just because Christ has loved us and gave His life for us. The parents can be patient and forgive because Christ forgives us and is patient with us and keeps bringing us back.
The child is going to know of Christ as the church shows care for him. The child will know of Christ as people in the church live the life of Christ, live the way of the cross in the community. He will not know the fullness of the faith as a baby or as a little boy —or as a young man. BUT LOVE CANNOT FAIL. He will know someday. He will know the greatness of what has happened to him in the claim of God in baptism —the miracle of new life —someday I believe that. I am filled with high hope for him because of the Word of God.
Now in the ninth chapter of John we see a gradual dawning —an increase in knowledge for this man who received his sight from Jesus.
The Jews —it is the way of the world with, or against, the baptized —would not accept that Jesus had accomplished the restoring of sight to this blind man. They hounded the man who had been born blind. “How were your eyes opened?” The man Jesus did it. “Where is he?” I don’t know.
Later on they wanted to press him further on this matter so they asked, “What do you say about Jesus?” The former blind man said: He is a prophet.
Now in the part of the chapter that is the text for today the Pharisees (or Jews) are pressing him again and are trying to teach that Christ is not good or able to heal blindness. The man says plainly to them: I don’t know whether Jesus is a sinner or not, but once I was blind, now I can see. The man has great power.
Growing recognition of the fact and the power of Jesus as the one who gives light and goodness in life —This is the thing that happens to the child who is brought up in the baptismal covenant. He doesn’t know all the answers about Jesus, but he learns of his life and his power —because of what Christ —and the Body of Christ —can do and has done for him.
When the man who had been born blind answers the Pharisees that someone who does such great things —so good —has got to be from God —he gets clobbered by the Jews. The baptized, who live by their baptism, may share the same reaction from the world —but they hold fast to Christ who gives light and life.
Finally this man is confronted again by the Christ who tells him who he is and asks, “Do you believe?” He said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped him.
The child who is baptized may not know the fullness of the truth of Christ, but as he experiences the power of God through the Church —through loving people as well as the Word and Sacraments —he will one day also fall down and worship Jesus as the Lord.
He will someday know how much he needed this act of baptism, this washing away of blindness of the natural man. He will someday know how necessary it was for God to come to him and to give forgiveness and light. He will know that he passed from blindness to the vision of God through Christ (Once I was blind —now I can see). He will know it because of the church, the caring, faithful, loving, teaching, acting church. And he will be glad for the judgment of God. The judgment of God upon this little one baptized here today is YES, you are my child. That’s what I want to teach him to know the rest of the years I have to be his earthly father and his brother in the church. Will you help me to teach him that?
AMEN: YES, YES and it shall be so.
09/20:
Coronota
Whiplash migration, filling the branches
one day, on their way the next, so quick it seems,
four weeks flying by as fast as the flash
of their yellow posterity, moving in dreams
from south to north to south again with stops
and light refreshments. Free music. Dancing.
Life, nothing fancy, but sweet all the same,
the simplest warble and a two-step shuffle,
easy going charity with yellow patches
on the elbows of their sleeves and in the press
of their hats. Plain folk simply passing through
with an unexpected splash of country
flare, nothing fancy but sweet all the same,
and only memories with the next flight south.
09/21:
Equinox
September. I once stayed with you because
I thought I could distinguish right from wrong:
The kids were growing up, you had just lost
Your job and all your confidence was down;
Yet you hated me and took it out on me
For all that was and all that couldn’t be,
And as I watched the shades of summer turn
I knew I couldn’t leave you on your own.
A dozen seasons later, your new job
Is thriving and your confidence is strong,
The kids are grown up more and anymore
You’ll be all right. You don’t need me around.
I turn to watch the sunlight slip away
And see the time diminish every day
And still I stay with you, but now because
I dread the thought of being left alone.
The equinox is fleeting, but I try
To hold on to its balance for as long
As tilting worlds allow; we lean away
From warmth and I can feel the harder ground
Of colder days to come, and even now
I know I should move on, or move somehow,
But as the autumn winds blow through the leaves
Of September my cold feet turn into stone.
I hope that there may never be an end
To anything, from dawn to dusk to dawn;
That fall is just a stop along the way
To winter; that beyond this we are bound
Eventually to see another spring
And then wherever time and fate will bring
Us, traveling together or apart
But never, through these autumn woods, alone.
09/22:
Moleskin 5.1: Studio
As I write this, I am sitting on the edge of a river: yes, I am still here. But it is not the same river. My place is the same, for the most part, and my position has barely shifted over time, other than to keep balance and circulation, but the river: maybe this is what my story is really about: the water of seasons, the gravity of upstream, the quiet velocity of now; the accumulation of purpose, the weight of every moment and the immensity of destiny. For the moment, the river seems peaceful enough, but history cuts the river bed and current moves every drop. The course changes without consultation and proceeds past more bends than one can ever see from a random perch. And I, sitting here Siddharta-like, or Huck Finn-like, am constantly thinking of venturing downstream, crossing to the other side or immersing myself and trying not to be seen.
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