Monday Morning Music Ministry

5-28-18

Memorial Day. It is easy to get caught up, these days – or lost – in the homogeneity of patriotic holidays. Fourth of July? Veterans Day? Memorial Day? The culprits, if we forget the specific origins, are the general diminution of patriotism in America, and also the side-effect, the lack of teaching and remembrance. A disregard, frankly, of the importance of who we are as people… how we got here… and who paid the costs.

The Fourth of July, of course, commemorates our independence, and the spirit behind that independence. Veterans Day generally honors the veterans amongst us. Memorial Day, once “Decoration Day,” honors not so much the veterans who live, but those who died.

I wish we had few such holidays. Not because I want to wish away wars, and certainly not against the spirit of sacrifice. But just as “President’s Day” cheapens the immense honor due to Lincoln and Washington and few others, when officer-holders high and low are commemorated, so would more holidays. Especially when our contemporary age creates or re-fashions national holidays around weekends and possible commercial sales opportunities.

On Memorial Day, “we call to mind the deaths of those who died that the nation
might live, who wagered all that life holds dear for the great prize of death in battle, who poured out their blood like water in order that the mighty national structure raised by the far-seeing genius of Washington, Franklin, Marshall, Hamilton, and the other great leaders of the Revolution, great framers of the Constitution, should not crumble into meaningless ruins,” said Theodore Roosevelt in a Memorial Day address.

Speaking personally, I have opposed many of our wars, especially in my lifetime. I am a man of the Right, in Whittaker Chambers’ phrase, ready to die for the red, white and blue, but not always for the flags of strangers. I revere the American Republic; not necessarily the American Empire. But what I think is statistically irrelevant, and irrelevant in my slight role as an essayist with some followers.

My own ambiguity about foreign policies and priorities that result in shed American blood is put aside – cast aside – on these Memorial days.

I pray that we all share admiration and respect and honor for those Americans, especially in these days where the military draft no longer exists; those who did what they did for the heritage of our past, the reality of our present, for the hope of the future.

What were these men and women made of? They volunteered; they sacrificed; they died. They suffered nightmarish injuries. When able, many of them re-enlisted.

No matter what progressives, especially those of an earlier generation, say, our servicemen and servicewomen did not wear uniforms and train with weapons because they hated.

They loved.

They loved their comrades. They loved their flag. They loved their missions – the people whose situations they liberated, the people they rescued. They loved their families back home, believing that the sacrifices ultimately were worth it. They loved their homes and streets and towns; their way of life.

Even the least-schooled understood the inchoate but essential virtues behind the tattered flag – that America has stood for something. They fought, and were willing to die, for something greater than a village, or bunker that must be cleared. They were conscious of being children of a great tradition (even if they were recent immigrants in uniform)… and were conscious of being fathers and mothers of that continuing tradition.

I put aside the controversies surrounding our wars and rumors of wars. On this Day especially I stand, and salute, and visit graves at random, of men and women who did the unimaginable courageous things, often in dutiful and routine ways.

Because of who they were. Because of what America is. Or was, God help us.

We salute you.

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Click: Thank You

5-21-18

Some of you might remember that song title. I am dating myself (which actually is a useless pastime, dating yourself – you always wind up with half the food going cold and saying things you already know) but it was a movie from 1966.

It is hardly remembered today. It was the film that made a star out of Michael Caine, and the first movie to be “Suggested for mature audiences” by the Motion Picture Association of America, precursor to a PG rating. Its theme song by Burt Bacharach and Hal David was sung by Cher and flopped; a later release by Dionne Warwick was a hit. The movie was very “Sixties,” with Caine playing a wastrel and what that age called a womanizer – #MeToo alert – whose escapades and affairs led to broken relationships and abortions. In the end, Alfie is bitter and alone, very alone, and a swinging theme that trafficked in glamour ends sadly.

Ironically, the “naughty” and edgy movie presented a moral. Well, that was the 1960s. It was the “Me Generation,” in Tom Wolfe’s phrase, before MeToo… the social chickens coming home to roost… which provides us a moment for a detour to mourn the passing of Tom Wolfe last week. As famous as a celebrity for his foppish attire as he was significant as a 20th-century American author, he was able to infiltrate and dissect the fashionable limousine-liberal Establishment in a series of social-commentary essays and novels, as well as flag-waving Americana, for instance in The Right Stuff.

And little remembered is that Tom Wolfe also was a brilliant cartoonist and biting caricaturist.

To return to the ‘60s, as I was familiar as a teen with the movie of this essay’s title, What’s It All About, Alfie? As well as the tectonic shifts in society around all of us. From trivial things like bell bottoms to substantial factors like relationships, it’s hard not to notice major changes in society.

Or is it? The title song What’s It All About, Alfie? went through my mind recently when the unusual name Alfie popped up in the news. Do you remember it? In Mercyside, England, home of the Beatles, Alfie Evans, 23 months old, was dying of a mysterious nerve ailment. In brief, the hospital’s doctors judged that he was brain dead, and ordered life-support removed. Since Alfie responded to stimuli and opened his eyes, his parents objected. A glimmer of hope!

Lawsuits, appeal after appeal, went to the High Court, which also ordered that life-support should end. The parents approached the Vatican, and the pope made an appeal for mercy. The Italian government granted emergency citizenship to little Alfie, that he might be taken to Italy for treatment. The British government barred the boy’s travel and prohibited the parents from attempting any such measures.

In the end, the hospital and the government prevailed. Life-support was removed. Alfie lived another five days on his own, and died.

What’s it all about, Alfie? A generation ago, euthanasia was a taboo subject, yet people pushed the law and argued for mercy killing. Ten years ago, a vice-presidential candidate warned of governmental “Death Panels”… and was widely ridiculed by liberals. Yet – abortion itself aside – today we have the government preventing parents from exercising medical rights over their children; sanctioned killing of Down Syndrome children (at a 90 per cent rate); and death penalty verdicts for impaired children. No matter what the parents desire.

Yes, Alfie’s case was in England. But we take note because it made more news than most comparable horrors. It happens across Western Europe… and, more and more, in the United States.

The Founders had to prioritize their major priorities desired for the nation they built – LIFE, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But now unelected bureaucrats and unaccountable judges hold the power of life and death over their subjects. In a different flavor of significance, the Masterpiece Cakeshop case has been decided by the Supreme Court, and its decision – probably with a surfeit of concurrent opinions and dissents – will be handed down this summer.

That such a case was brought, much less having risen to the Supremes, is enough of a barometer for us to gauge the state of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness in the United States. You have heard of the case: a pair of homosexuals sought to have their “wedding” cake decorated in a certain way, and for their nuptials; and having found a Christian baker, Jack Phillips in Lakewood CO, who said “No thank you” on the basis of his religious beliefs, they and their backers filed suit.

Jack had maintained courtesy, and offered to sell any other cake and any other decoration; and he recommended other local bakers who might accommodate them. But their intention was to sue. After years of court appearances, decisions, appeals – and a business harmed; a family’s life rocked – Jack, and the world, are about to learn whether the Founders deliberated, and patriots lived and died, for the sake of cake decoration.

Of course it IS more important than that. Because the Left and Secularists have made it so. Freedom of action – that a shop owner can exercise his own standards. Freedom of speech – argued on both sides. Freedom of religion – can Jack, and therefore all of us, be coerced to act contrary to conscience? Artistic expression – must an artist, yes, a dedicated cake decorator, be told what he can design… or not? Civil rights – are the homosexuals harmed, as Blacks were under Jim Crow laws? Freedom of association – Rather a different level than public restrooms or seats on a bus or the right to attend neighborhood schools, can a court force people to fraternize, even via simple business transactions?

If the Court says that Jack Phillips must accede to antithetical messages being produced in his workplace… would it follow that a Jewish baker must fulfill a demand to decorate cakes with swastikas on Hitler’s birthday?

These ARE questions with significant import… and deeper implications. If the Court decides against Christians who want to act like Christians – fill in names and beliefs of anyone these days, except the politically correct and approved – it will let loose the Establishment’s fury against sermons (hate speech?), Bible studies (already proscribed in some San Diego neighborhoods), parental authority (expect more “divorce petitions” filed by children against parents, yes), more restrictions on prayer in public places… et cetera, au nauseum.

It is coming. It was predicted in the Bible. No surprise.

And it was forecast in a quirky film in the Crazy 1960s.

What’s it all about, Alfie?
Is it just for the moment we live?
What’s it all about when you sort it out, Alfie?
Are we meant to take more than we give?

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Click: God Of Our Fathers

5-14-18

I never have had the privilege of being a mother. As closely bound as I was to fathering, being present at the births of our children, then nurturing and rearing them; fatherhood in all senses… I am aware it all is a far-distant second. The special relationship of mother and child – among all species – is a unique and precious blessing.

A birthright, in fact.

For all the good feelings engendered by Mother’s Day, I reserve a portion of contempt for those creatures who denigrate the institution of Motherhood. Not loutish men alone, but women themselves who, ultimately, are self-loathing. Those who deny the privilege – to others, not only for themselves – of sanctifying the foundation of the family; for hating what we love; for hating what is love.

I reserve a portion of pity, too. I must. What I often call in this space the Culture of Death extends beyond the trashing of motherhood and women’s traditional roles. Biologically, homosexuals cannot naturally procreate (pro-create). Abortion fanatics crusade for death – disguising their “advocacy” as concern for “convenience” for the mothers; as birth-control-after-the-fact. And so on. They are to be pitied, and prayed for.

In the meantime, my Mother’s Day is filled with memories of the Mom I knew. I loved her, and love her. She was an example whose nurture appears stronger through the years: seeds, planted, and growing in my life. A servant’s heart, making silent and willing sacrifices. Was she perfect? Smoking and drinking were regrettable but did not affect her salvation. Big deal. My sisters and I prayed for Jesus to turn the wine back into water.

Of vital importance is that she knew Jesus, was active in churches, and related almost every question I ever had to the gospel.

A preacher in aprons. A saint in curlers. An invariable forgiver.

And that example was no less special because it is the frequent role of mothers – not stereotyped, not clichéd, not pressed upon her as a dirty, leftover job – the role of imparting life lessons, of teaching values; sharing love.

Fathers can do such things before mothers do, with their children. Life’s circumstances dictate such things, and some fathers might be the more tender of a set of parents – but we all know that in the vast majority of cases in the Human Family, it is the mother who holds, hugs, shares tears, teaches, and smiles, a little more than the father, or at least a little earlier. And we children remember.

Fathers discipline; mothers forgive. Fathers prod the way forward; mothers welcome us home. Fathers mold us; mothers know us.

I believe God created Woman not only as a helpmeet to Adam, but as an Assistant to Himself. As Mothers, to show unconditional love; to bond in unique ways with their children; to bear the essence of comfort, understanding, acceptance.

Think back to the first song you learned, maybe a lullaby. The first prayers you heard, or memorized. The first gentle nursery rhyme or fairy tale. Chances are that was your mother’s voice, mother’s smiles, mother’s tears. And if not… probably Grandmother’s. This is our DNA, emotions as strong as genetics.

I admired my Dad, oh yes; I still finish every project wondering if he would approve; to be a good professional. But Mom? If I can be as good a man as she was a mother, I will die grateful and content.

There are some women who, by circumstance or infirmity, sadly cannot become mothers. Most women whom I have met from those groups have hearts even more tender for families and for children.

However, sorry to tell all of you radical harridans who hate, you have disinvited yourselves from family reunions – not at ballparks on summer afternoons, or Grandma’s house on Winter evenings – but from that mystical, privileged, and sacred Family that truly is a gift of God.

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Does this essay seem to dwell on old-fashioned things? I plead guilty! There are too many old fashions that we are losing. Here is one: a tender lullaby, a mother’s song, written by Stephen Foster 150 years ago. Recently we shared another tender song by this great American poet and composer. This, sung by Alison Kraus, is equally impressive. And some crazed radicals are tearing down his statue in the town of his birth…

Click: Slumber, My Darling

5-7-18

I don’t care so much about ages of rocks. What’s more important to me is the Rock of Ages.

So said William Jennings Bryan (or perhaps it was Matthew Harrison Brady) in a famous confrontation over points of the Creation / Evolution debate. The Rock of Ages, familiar in the eponymous old hymn of 250 years ago, refers both to the smitten rock of Moses and the broken body of Jesus, both “cleft” for us and our protection.

Turning around the phrase “age of rocks” is another double-meaning, suggesting the pursuit of scientific, even beneficial, discoveries should not blind us to life’s priorities.

Evolution is not our agenda here, no matter how it would turn out. Priorities are.

Godly people, Christians, the spiritually inclined, usually live out their faith by service. Service and sacrifice; good works; dedication; charity and charitable work; missions work; good deeds. I can personally attest that after a conversion experience – in fact, usually especially after a born-again or life-changing transformation – we are filled with zeal.

We want to know God. We hunger and thirst for the Word. We pray, sometimes as the Bible says, virtually “without ceasing.” And, as night follows day, we want to serve Him. How many of the faithful for 2000 years have done everything from be dedicated to personal piety, profoundly, to abandon lifestyles and become missionaries or serve the sick or poor… or join holy orders, preaching and teaching, sometimes taking vows of silence or poverty… or, like holy sponges, study, study, study, the scriptures.

Since I asked “how many,” I will answer truthfully: we cannot know. There have been uncountable such believers, transformed by the power of the Holy Ghost. Thank God for them, recruits and foot-soldiers in the army of the Lord.

I do not suggest these people – most of whom, frankly, I regard with jealousy – are misguided. Not at all, but as I have yielded to these impulses through the years, responding in myriad ways, I can also identify with what sounds at first like “knowing God and making Him known,” a motto of many churches. Not bad, I want to suggest… but not the best response.

I must quickly explain my distinction! Citing the recognition of the “Rock of Ages” as being our refuge; and remembering that Abraham Lincoln said in response to wartime prayers, “We should not be so concerned that God is on our side, but that we are on His side,” I believe we get warmer about proper priorities.

Knowing God… desiring that we feel good about Jesus… and urging others to want to know and feel better about God… must not be our top priority. Those are good impulses, but not entirely His. Wanting to feel better about God might be a cloud-parting revelation to some people. And… inspires us, certainly, to do good deeds.

Yes, there are “fruits” of our changed lives. But pleasing God – feeling better about Him – should not take precedence over the corollary. That is, the impulses of our Holy Spirit indwelling can be parallel, not either / or.

My point is that when we know Jesus, it is not as important that we feel good about God. It is more important – essential, really – that GOD feels good about US.

In the end (literally, the End Times) he will not look so much at our deeds. Yes, we are told He may declare, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And we do tasks and works: after all, He has a calling on every believer’s life.

But a miracle-working God can do deeds independent of us; and does. He does not need us, really… except as His Plan is worked through us. And remember that the Bible reminds us to be humble – and remember priorities! – when we are told that our deeds, our “righteousness,” are like dirty rags in His sight. He is holy.

What impresses God, so to speak, is not our acts so much as our hearts. Jesus did not come in service of committees and ministries and campaigns.

He came for us.

Individuals. God sees our hearts… knows our hearts. THAT truth might make us tremble at times. But is no less truthful. God wants to feel good about our hearts and is not automatically blinded by “works.”

Listen: “By their fruits ye shall know them.” Yes! The natural response of believers will be to serve, and that is 100 per cent proper. And we desire to know Him and please Him.

But never lose sight of God’s priority – that He cares more about knowing you than anything you can do or say. How about your heart? Is it right with God?

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Click: Search Me