Self Destruction

It was with some sadness that I read an article in the Scotland on Sunday today concerning a male contraceptive injection. According to the article, the injection is only needed every two months or so and that it dramatically reduces the sperm count during that period, often down to nil.
The consequences of this are obvious, yet society seems to be totally oblivious to it. Many people are still taken in by threats of overpopulation and I worry that it continues to give the impression that children are a burden, something to put up with.
Furthermore, this comes at a time when the government is encouraging more immigration in order to boost the population which is set to shrink in the future. Instead of a population pyramid we'll have what my geography teacher described as a "population coffin."
Madness, I tell you, madness!
It will only lead to sadness.

Oh, how I shudder at the thought...

Not too long ago, Jeffrey Tucker over at the Chant Café blog wrote a bit on those terrible teenage bands who make a loud noise each Sunday and seem to be scattered all around the world. To my great embarrassment, I can recall my own involvement in such a group. Firstly, here's a snip of what Mr Tucker says:

Of course they have no idea what they are doing. No one has ever discussed with them anything about the musical demands of the Roman Rite. They know nothing about the proper orientation for making music at Mass. The liturgical calender is an abstraction. Terms like propers or dialogues are gibberish to them. Most of the players can’t even read music. To them it is an opportunity to see and be seen, a weekly talent gig, and they probably don’t mind it that people give them credit for their service to the parish.

The pastor and celebrant don’t like it any more than anyone else. But the parents of these kids are important people in the parish. The band doesn’t charge any money for their services, such as they are.

Sadly, this somewhat describes my own experience. I played keyboard, so I was the one who had to learn the actual tune. The other two just needed to either learn the chord sequence (i.e. super easy) or the drum beat (cringe!!). The whole experience was awful and, as you may have gathered, had a traumatic psychological effect on me.

This man seems to be happy playing the guitar. No such joy for me or my two friends, or the congregation, for that matter.

 
There were other reasons why the whole thing was terrible, not just the fact that the music was atrocious and messed up the whole thing. Mass no longer seemed about God - we were too preoccupied with ourselves and whether the amp was at the right settings. The (justified) disapproving looks from the congregation one Sunday upset me so much that I thankfully refused to carry on with it. I also protested that I had all the work to do (in my mind learning a chord sequence or a simple drum beat was much easier than learning a tune).
We were trying to fit a jigsaw piece from a Disney jigsaw puzzle for 5 year olds into a 5000-piece puzzle of the Sistine Chapel. It just didn't fit and was totally inappropriate.
I like to think this was God's way of making a point to me, namely that keyboards, drums and guitars are NOT suited to Catholic liturgy and that music should lift people to God. Somehow, I don't imagine singing Gregorian chant is nearly as distracting for the choir as strumming a guitar or playing drums is for those who play them at Mass. I can't even remember praying at those Masses I played at.

Dani Garavelli on the "Condom Conundrum"

Dani Garavelli, a journalist at the Scotsman's Sunday paper - the Scotland on Sunday - wrote a piece today on the whole debacle about one of the Pope's responses in the book-interview Light of the World. Garavelli often comments on Catholic affairs because she herself is Catholic. One only needs to read one article to realise that she is of the liberal persuasion but nevertheless she is honest. Here is an example:

THE way the world has reacted to Pope Benedict XVI's "reassessment" of his position on condoms last week you would be forgiven for thinking he'd whole-heartedly embraced them and was now personally dispensing them from his Popemobile. The truth is far more prosaic and predictable. [...] Not only did the Pope confine his qualified acceptance of condom use to those involved in the sex trade, he seemed to be motivated not by a desire to protect those at risk, but by the hope that the act of putting one on might signal the start of a journey that would eventually lead to a more chaste lifestyle.

I am glad that she has written this even though she's on the other side of the fence, so to speak. It's important for people to realise that what they think has been said is in fact not what has been said. It's always good when the people who disagree with you understand what you are saying. 

So far, I've avoided mentioning the whole affair as I thought it more prudent to wait and see what would happen. I must say that, like many others, I have been disappointed with the official response to the misunderstanding being proclaimed in the mainstream media. The most difficult things to read were quotes from aid agencies who clearly were looking to misread what the Pope was saying and so use it as justification for the distribution of condoms. Those without access to unbiased media would have very little on which to base any counterargument. For this reason, I hoped for a greater response from Church officials on this. On other less important issues, their response is often more than adequate. Sadly, this time it wasn't the case.

V. Oremus pro Pontifice nostro Benedicto.
R. Dominus conservet eum, et vivificet eum, et beatum faciat eum in terra, et non tradat eum in animam inimicorum eius.
Pater noster. Ave Maria.
Deus, omnium fidelium pastor et rector, famulum tuum Benedictum, quem pastorem Ecclesiae tuae praeesse voluisti, propitius respice: da ei, quaesumus, verbo et exemplo, quibus praeest, proficere: ut ad vitam, una cum grege sibi credito, perveniat sempiternam. Per Christum, Dominum nostrum. Amen.

Burning, draining and ending.

A friend of mine, incidentally one I've mentioned before, has three categories of disliking someone or something. They are:

Burning - when anger is the dominating emotion.
Draining - when disappointment or boredom are the dominating emotions.
Ending - either a combinating of burning and draining, or the loss of the will to live.

An example of this would be "Tatchell's documentary drained me" because every argument has been heard a zillion times before and you felt excitement every time someone espousing and supporting Catholic doctrines spoke (which were rare occasions and yet rarer). See Damian Thompson's review of the documentary.