If I had ever learned...

The title of this selection is based on a statement made by Lady Catherine De Bourgh in Pride and Prejudice, as this venerable matron is instructing others on the finer points of music, of which she is avowedly a connoisseur though she has never bothered to learn much about it, but certainly has much natural taste and is thus qualified in her critique of others.  This is an amusing scene in the book, but strangely not an uncommon one in our modern society where, thanks to Google, etc., everyone is a natural expert on just about anything and everything.  We have replaced logic, reason, and rational thought with the search engine and social trending (if my 'friends' like it, it must be good).  Like the esteemed Lady, there is very little depth to our so-called knowledge yet we are too vain to admit, even to ourselves, how little we actually know about said topic.

This especially occurred to me the other day whilst standing in line to fill a prescription and the eight elderly people ahead of me each had 57 different medications, half of which were prescribed to control the side effects of some other medication.  There seems to be a pill for everything, yet in truth we know so little about the human body and its microscopic workings that putting so many different substances into our body at once without knowing their interactions with each other and with each unique individuals body makes me nervous.  Modern medicine is a wonderful thing, saving countless lives and extending nearly all others, yet we approach it with the attitude of 'my doctor can fix anything' rather than with the fear and trembling which should accompany all such activity which involves the life and well-being of a human soul.  I begin to see why God demands the same treatment of Himself.

We should not be in terror of God, yet we should approach Him with all the respect and awe that our rather miniscule and precarious mortal state demands when in the presence of the One who wrought us.  Yet we stand like the Pharisee in the temple (Luke 18), congratulating ourselves on how wonderful we are because we are not as bad as some other people when we should be like the tax collector, humble and honest, and therefore forgiven and justified before God.  Pride goes back to the Garden when the serpent asked, 'did God really say?'  God has really said, we should really listen and obey, if we want to have any standing whatsoever in the Kingdom of Heaven!  Then maybe we can turn our eyes to the practice of medicine or advising others on the quality of their musical ability, but only after we have correctly assessed our own skills and knowledge in a certain area and actually discover that we have something meaningful to say..  Just because you can 'google' tuberculosis, does not mean you are qualified either to treat or diagnose it.  Even more so are we unqualified to contradict what God has spoken.

But it's a musical!

This is a topic of great import that I have completely forgotten to write on for some time but have finally remembered whilst luckily in front of a computer with a moment to spare (a rare and dangerous combination).  As the faithful and unfortunate readers of this blog well know (if any of you there are), I am quite fond of Les Miserables in all its formats, most especially the musical, which was so recently released as a major motion picture.  My main complaint with the cinematic presentation of the stage musical was that nearly every line was sung (often badly) when they could have easily had a little dialogue instead of the inane singing of a few random lines like, "we must leave now," or "we should do such and such."  It was a minor sin, but rather annoying.  And it struck me that another tremendous theatrical production had addressed this very topic.  That great hero of many an animated tale, Larry the Cucumber, found himself in just such straits in the much lauded classic Lyle the Kindly Viking.  If I have completely confounded you, dear reader, please forgive me, for I assume that every classicist must be well versed in all things Veggie Tales, but if you are unfamiliar with this charming vegetative production, it may well be worth your time and energy to explore further.  But let us just say, it involves singing vegetables (and no few fruits) reenacting many a classic story and is thus a very healthy experience.  Anywho, Larry has this strange propensity to sing every single line and when called upon it by his friendly tomato companion, the cucumber sings out, "but it's a musical."  To which is replied, "but that doesn't mean you have to sing every line."  Obviously the makers of Les Mis are not as well versed in the classics as one would think!

Judge not lest ye miss a good book

I have avoided Northanger Abbey thinking it something it was not, and having read what I would of Austen's other works, have finally decided to peruse this before undeservedly despised volume and have come away very happy with this change of heart as it is now my favorite work in the cannon barring only Pride and Prejudice, which is not to be displaced from its place at the peak of my preference.  I am not sure I will ever read Persuasion and have only made it through a third of Emma, otherwise I have devoured the rest of Jane Austen's works and come to a much better understanding of this esteemed lady and her writings.  There is a wit and vivacity there that is easily glossed over by an overeager reader who just wants to get to the end of the story and misses all its merits thereby.  One cannot speed read either Austen or Shakespeare but must savor each morsel to come to a full appreciation of its contents.  Which is why I shall never finish Emma, as it would take the rest of my natural life to finish a volume so extensive and Persuasion, I am afraid would truly put me to sleep, if the movie is at all faithful to the book!

As for the original topic of my current nonsensical essay, it is a rather charming and comparatively quick read.  I am no fan of Gothic novels and have until now avoided it thinking it of the same genre, little realizing it to be a satire of such dismal works, not a member of their clan.  I love how Austen builds up anticipation as to the plight or anticipated plight of our heroine and then laughs at us when we realize there is no surreal suspense or horror in the story, only the flights of fancy of a young and ill-read imagination of the main character and the reader's own expectations, which are still quite real over a century after it was written.  She explains how unlikely a heroine is our heroine as she is not an orphan of unknown lineage, comes from a rather happy and comfortable family, and whose mother has not yet died in childbirth.  Overall, I really enjoyed it, though with the shortcomings of all satirical fiction, I wish there were more depth of character and a tad more plot, but such is the genre! 

Can it be Jane Austen?

In my self-declared quest of conquering the Austenian epistles, I discovered a work called Lady Susan which rather surprised me!  The heroine or shall I say anti-heroine is a widowed woman in her middle thirties who takes pleasure solely in discomfiting others.  This is no timid Fanny, lively Elizabeth, sensible Eleanor, or gentle Jane, this is a woman altogether unknown in all things Austen.  Perhaps Jane Austen is not the author, perhaps it is something of the ilk of the 'did Shakespeare write Shakespeare controversy.'  But no, the style, the wit, the wording is all Austen's.  Strangely, though I abhor the sentiments of the leading character, she may be one of the best written of all Austen's leading ladies!  It is a quick and interesting foray into a different part of the Austen universe, not entirely devoid of the charm which her other novels evoke.  Whatever else it may be, it proves again that Jane Austen can understand human emotion, thought, and behavior and put it on paper far better than most with advanced degrees in psychology!

A form of parasitism?

I once took a pathology test that asked after 2 diseases that cause fatty liver in cats.  I could only remember diabetes and pregnancy as causes of the condition so put down the latter with a footnote that it could be considered by some as a form of parasitism.  The professor was not impressed and I lost the point and received nothing for creativity, and to make it worse, the correct answer was 'idiopathic' which is the scientific word for 'we haven't a clue.'  Ah, well!  Such is the mixed joy and torture of academia. 

Of course I was writing in jest at the time hoping to salvage a few points, new life should always be considered a blessing and a miracle, not some type of bane, disorder, or disease.  Though in recent decades it seems to be more and more of a 'life choice' rather than something that happens to most people, it has become a hobby or a past time enjoyed by those that relish such things but ignored by the rest of us; something like watching football or having a dog or skiing.  Modern pharmacology has given us a flexibility to enjoy the sexual act with very little risk of the usual consequences that have followed in its wake since time immemorial.  We get to choose when and if we have children, a choice which was never before as easily and widely available in recorded history.  We don't need to expose unwanted infants on hillsides as the Romans used to do or even go to the extreme of having a medically induced abortion, we need only take a pill and the risk of conceiving becomes nearly zero.  We can sleep with whomever we choose whenever we choose and need fear no diapers.

I saw an article in a major magazine perhaps a month back extolling the 'child free' lifestyle.  After reading it, my heart was near to breaking.  All the people they interviewed focused on the 'me' and the 'us' and the 'now.'  It was the most self-centered piece of writing I had ever read!  There was no thought of anything but the convenience of their own meager lives and wishes, no thought of other people or even their own futures.  All they cared about was today, tomorrow, and the day after that.  This is not to say that every person must be a parent or should or can have children or that there are not worthy causes beyond childbearing and rearing, but it is strange to see something that was considered normal only 30 years ago has now become something of a fad or even an extravagance in the eyes of some.

There are many societal, cultural, and individual things to consider when deciding to take the responsibility for another life, yet it has been done by most individuals throughout history so should not be too intimidating in its newness.  What is perhaps new is our society's determined individualism.  There is no higher good than the self and anything that detracts from the self is not good thus children must certainly be an evil or at least an inconvenience.  This is a miserable view to have of children, not to mention of life.  The world is only as big as you make it.  We can turn inward and have a very small world indeed (this I think is a foretaste of hell) or we can look outward, love others beyond the self and find a world incomprehensibly wonderful (which must be a glimpse of Heaven).  These are our choices, and it is not only our children that suffer but everyone and every thing when selfishness comes out the victor.  Look what happened to all of humanity and the entire creation when man decided that God did not really say he would die if he disobeyed, oops!

Another disturbing trend besides indifference or hostility towards 'the breeders' in the sphere of procreation is actually its opposite.  Of those that choose to have children, some are turning them into idols.  Especially those that want children but for one reason or another cannot have them, are very susceptible to the worship of children (or the want thereof).  Idolatry is not an acceptable form of parenting.  It is certainly not good for either you or your children.  Children should be neither neglected nor worshipped, but it seems we fall all too easily into one camp or the other.  Another side effect of family break down is we have few or no fit examples of how to parent both healthily and sanely.  We either want nothing to do with kids or have nothing but our kids, heaven help us in either extreme.

Besides for the obvious chaos that no children or overly spoiled children wreak upon a society, so too does it contribute to our own smallness of mind and soul.  I have learned that God uses both marriage and children to better shape us for the Kingdom and to force us to become the people that He intends us to be.  Starting a family is a wonderful crucible to shape character, perseverance, charity, patience, and ever kind of virtue.  What is more demanding of love, attention, and care and less immediately rewarding than a cranky toddler or colicky infant?  In caring for these dear little ones we are forced to do something for an 'other' without the balm of friendship or immediate gratitude or remuneration that we can expect in our more adult relationships and even to some extent with our pets.  There are certainly moments of wonder, joy, and bliss in the raising of such but these remembrances are far from living memory during a sleepless night or an hours long tantrum. 

By closing our hearts and lives to children, we are losing perhaps the greater part of what it means to be human, at least as God intended.  We can replace much of this loss by serving others selflessly in other ways, but simply having good friends will never fill the gap nor will treating your dog like a furry child.  Without the sacrifice we also miss the blessing.  So too do we lose out when our children become the object of our worship.  As dear as they are, they did not create you, did not die for you, did not make the stars or even one snowflake, and will never be able to fill the void in your soul which can be filled by no man, only God.

Escaping the meta-narrative?

I've always thought life is a story, and apparently I am not the only one.  Apparently even the atheists feel this overwhelming need for 'something more.'    Check out this interesting little blurb: http://www.breakpoint.org/bpcommentaries/entry/13/23303

The least magical place on earth?

We returned to civilization last week to spend a little time with family and friends.  I have a friend who lives in a very suburban neighborhood with a rather odd situation.  One side of her house looks out on a street that is all beige houses with six square feet of immaculate lawn and stubby trees.  The other side looks over vast green hills covered in fields and a mysterious little wood.  I much enjoy the latter view than the former, but short of falling off the edge of her backyard, cannot thus explore the green view but must go forth into the wilds of suburbia to find adventure.  I was up early and had another long car ride that day so thought a little exercise might be good.  It was an odd scene, perhaps one never witnessed by these urban refugees, for it seemed either the hicks or the fairies had invaded, and we are not sure which.

The morning was hazy and barely begun yet promising to be another sweltering day.  Even the suburban wastes look lovely in that early golden light.  They were alone (except for the man mowing his immaculate lawn at a rather strange hour).  Two figures could be seen, one taller and one quite short and neither wearing shoes.  Were they human or fey?  In that witching hour of dawn it was hard to say.  The small one, perhaps a sort of pixie, seemed the one in charge, running hither and thither with the taller in resigned pursuit as a weary slave of its small master.  The dwarvish one darted back and forth, defying all the proper rules of suburban society and walking on other men's grass.  Did I mention they were unshod?  But as the day broadened, they vanished back into their fairy realm, unseen save by the man with the lawn mower.

Ok, I admit, it is a rather ridiculous way of describing a quick morning foray outside with a small child, but for a minute there it almost seemed sort of magical, which is amazing, for I never thought one could find magic in a subdivision where everything is predictable, patterned, and the same, but I was happy to be wrong!  There is magic in the world (even in suburbia) if we only know how to look for it.