Author Archives

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Planning ahead

Have you ever thought about what you want to be said at your funeral?  I have.  I don’t mean what I want people to say about me.  Of course I want people to say nice things about me.  I’m talking about the program–the message, the readings, the songs.  I look at it this way: it’s one of the few times, perhaps the only time, a captive audience will be gathered to hear exclusively about things that I care about.  So I might as well take advantage of it.

Along with I Corinthians 15 and “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” from Handel’s Messiah, I want my funeral to include a reading of John Donne’s Holy Sonnet 6.  And since I happen to have the Norton edition of Donne’s poetry sitting here at my desk, I thought I would share that sonnet in its entirety here.

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

            Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so.

            For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep which but thy pictures be,

            Much pleasure; then, from thee, much more must flow,

            And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.

Thou’rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

            And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell.

            And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,

And easier than thy stroke.  Why swell’st thou then?

            One short sleep past, we live eternally,

            And Death shall be no more.  Death, thou shalt die.

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An album that ages well

This year Michael Buble (I haven’t figured out yet how to add an accent mark on WordPress–don’t laugh at me!) released his album Christmas.  Because MB is young and about as hip as an old-school crooner can be, and because he doesn’t have a mediocre acting career to rival his discography, he often, unfortunately, overshadows an artist who was making Big Band-style Christmas albums and sounding uncannily like Frank Sinatra long before little Michael came on the scene: Harry Connick, Jr.

Last night I listened, as I do at least once every year, to Harry’s first (and best) Christmas album, When My Heart Finds Christmas.  It has sappy moments, as you might guess from the title.  It has no logical flow–a funky number about Santa Claus is followed by a solemn, haunting piece about Jesus.  But it has fourteen of the greatest Christmas arrangements and originals ever recorded.  Here are a few reasons for its greatness:

1. Harry is never reluctant to let the band be the star.  On sweeping numbers like “O Holy Night” and “What Child Is This,” there are long sections of orchestration during which our crooner doesn’t get to show off his voice.  But Harry is fine with that.  This is a band album, not a solo album.

2. He’s also not afraid to–yes–remind us what Christmas is all about.  “The Blessed Dawn of Christmas Day,” perhaps my favorite track (though it’s hard to pick), actually contains the line “Jesus died for me.”  Most CCM artists don’t even go that far on their Christmas albums!

3. Harry can do funk, not just jazz and classical fare.  “I Pray on Christmas” and “Must Have Been Ol’ Santa Claus” break out of the smooth, Sinatra/Buble-style mold and reveal Connick’s New Orleans roots.

Ok, I’m not a music critic, but trust me: it’s an album worth listening to.

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But death isn’t the end!

Today I thought I’d give myself a break and share someone else’s work–Plato’s, that is.  The following quote comes from the character Glaucon in Plato’s Republic.  It reminds me of some people you might know: Jesus Christ, Sydney Carton (the guy from A Tale of Two Cities), Bruce Wayne (especially in The Dark Knight), and one of my Hogwarts professors, Severus Snape.  It also–shameless plug–reminds me of Jack Donnelly, the protagonist of the novel I wrote.

“Beside our picture of the unjust man let us set one of the just man, the man of true simplicity of character who, as Aeschylus says, wants ‘to be and not to seem good.’ We must, indeed, not allow him to seem good, for if he does he will have all the rewards and honours paid to the man who has a reputation for justice, and we shall not be able to tell whether his motive is love of justice or love of the rewards and honours. No, we must strip him of everything except his justice, and our picture of him must be drawn in a way diametrically opposite to that of the unjust man. Our just man must have the worst of reputations for wrongdoing even though he has done no wrong, so that we can test his justice and see if it weakens in the face of unpopularity and all that goes with it; we shall give him an undeserved and life-long reputation for wickedness, and make him stick to his chosen course until death. In this way, when we have pushed the life of justice and of injustice each to its extreme, we shall be able to judge which of the two is happier . . .

“They will say that the just man, as we have pictured him, will be scourged, tortured, and imprisoned, his eyes will be put out, and after enduring every humiliation he will be crucified, and learn at last that one should want not to be, but to seem just.”

Of course, Socrates sets Glaucon straight.  Read The Republic to find out how.

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Christmas paradox

Christmas is the time of year when we can best understand a famous paradox by C. S. Lewis: “Joy is the serious business of heaven.”  Christmas is one of the few times, perhaps the only time in 21st-century America, when mystery and merriment, silence and revelry are both acceptable and normal (although the mystery and silence part is becoming less normal).  It’s fitting, I guess, that the holiday celebrating God’s incarnation is a time when we succeed best at breaking down our constructed barrier between the sacred and the secular.

So this Christmas season I’m going to try not to get annoyed when–for example–a church pageant makes a jarring transition from Santa Claus to the manger, or when I get in the car with my family after the quiet, reverent Christmas Eve candlelight service and the first thing I hear is Bruce Springsteen on the radio hollering about Clarence getting a new saxophone for Christmas.  (editor’s note: I love Bruce Springsteen.  But do you understand what I mean about jarring transitions?)  Our response to the “unspeakable” (2 Cor. 9:15, KJV) truth that God became a baby–speaking of paradox–should indeed be to meditate in silence for a time, but then to turn to rejoicing.  And we don’t need to feel guilty if our rejoicing involves loud singing of carols about Santa Claus.

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Welcome to Ravenclaw Tower.

I don’t have any pretensions to wit beyond measure.  In fact, I doubt I would be able to answer the logic problem in order to gain access to the real Ravenclaw Tower (although I do take comfort in the thought that if Luna Lovegood can get in, maybe I could too.  And by this I mean no disrespect to Luna.)  But I wanted to give my blog a Ravenclaw name because I hope, humbly, to create a place where thoughtful inquiry and the magic of words can thrive.

Don’t expect a post every day.  Don’t expect brilliance every time.  Do expect book reviews (and movie and music reviews too), brief observations and exclamations, paeans to people I like, product recommendations, and sometimes, posts consisting entirely of quotations from those who approach nearer to immeasurable wit than I do.

And yes, Penelope Clearwater is that Ravenclaw prefect who dated Percy Weasley before he became a total git.  Are you aware how deeply into obscurity a potential blogger has to dig in order to find a quality blog name that someone hasn’t already chosen?