Man, that piccolo really makes your biceps pop!

— Sullivan

Oh, that? That’s just smooth jazz. Nothing to worry about.

— Sullivan, replying to an inquiry over his headset while playing Minecraft one night

Remember that if it’s late in the evening and you’re tired but don’t think it best to go to bed just yet, listening to music is the perfect fit.

Today I am grateful for the following:

1. the self-control Éa is demonstrating as she practices her first riff on her new Washburn Maverick electric guitar (“Smoke On The Water,” of course)—let’s hope she has the self-control enough to power through the rut of learning your first riff and never moving past it because it’s the only thing you’ve mastered;
2. the goodness of setting aside time to walk, read, engage in hobbies, and journal. May my good friend learn it, too;
3. the faithfulness of Carla, my wife of coming on fifteen years next year. Whoa.

Perhaps the joy is lost from listening to and making music largely because it feels desultory: There’s no goal. At least, that’s what it seems like the Spirit may be saying as I possibly discerned on my walk to and from Gary Abdullah’s house to drop off an apology note written by Sullivan for his having tripped over an electrical cord and unplugged Inflatable Christmas Countdown Santa. So, here’s a goal in the absence of a relish for musical theatre, anthem gigs at college basketball games, Puddintown Roots, and the Choral Society: Build your repertoire book.

“Being incarnate was an embarrassment, a design-fault that God may have intended in the Italians but surely not in the English.”

On the English supposed “quiet suspicion of sensuality” that he saw in the old English. It made me laugh out loud.

“Sexual puritanism is an attempt to safeguard possessions more valuable than pleasure. The good that it does outweighs the evil, the English knew this. They were seriously repressed, largely because repression prevented them from carelessly throwing away those things—chastity, marriage and the family—which slip so easily from the grasp of people whose natural tendency is to keep each other at a distance.”

This captures why my sexual ethics.

“Much as we should be grateful for the language and liturgy of the Anglican Church, we must deplore the weird interdiction which killed of polyphony at the very moment when Tallis and Byrd…had learned to rival Palestrina and Victoria in this supremely religious art form.”

The Anglicans outlawed polyphony?

“Jesus, the first and last, On thee my soul is cast: Thou didst the work begin By blotting out my sin; Thou wilt the root remove, And perfect me in love.

“Yet when the work is done The work is but begun: Partaker of thy grace, I long to see thy face; The first I prove below, The last I die to know” (105, from the Book of Common Prayer).

It’s the last couplet that excites me most.

“…we belted out this famous hymn…to the music of Mendelssohn, that gentle fellow-traveller of the Christian faith whom Queen Victoria, then head of the Anglican Church, took to her heart, as the Church did also, despite the fact, and also because of the fact, that he was a Jew.”

Mendelssohn was a Jew!? He has written some of the strongest Christian sacred music of all time!

“…and the very irrelevance to the surrounding world of everything he knew made the learning of it all the more rewarding” (167).

Is this true?

“By devoting their formative years to useless things, they made themselves supremely useful” (170).

A rhetorically fun point that Scruton makes about English Liberal Arts education. I do wonder if it’s true.

“How, for example, can you represent the interests of dead and unborn Englishmen, merely by counting the votes of the living? And how, in a system where important issues are determined by majority voting, do we protect the dissident minority, the individual eccentric, the person who will not or cannot conform?” (174)

I love the idea of thinking in terms of representing future, unborn compatriots in one’s government. And I appreciate Scruton’s praise for the common law in England which enables such lawmaking.

“Without what Freud call the ‘work of mourning’ we are diminished by our losses, and unable to live to the full beyond them” (244).

I know this to be true. I wonder whether I’m doing it for my mom. I want to make sure I make plenty space for others to mourn when I die.

“For dead civilizations can speak to living people, and the more conscious they are while dying, the more fertile is their influence thereafter” (244).

The same is true of dead people. I wish to be conscious while I’m dying.

Scruton, Roger. England : an elegy. London: Chatto & Windus, 2000. Print.

When I am deciding what to read next, I will consider listening to musical works and Science Mike podcast episodes as well.

Feminism is chivalry.

This spoken after I saw a gal at Torta’s wearing a “Girls to the Front” jacket, which has something to do with Riot Grrrrls, which is a feminist music movement out of the Pacific Northwest.

Even though my feet ache, I’m still gonna rock and shake!

— Éa, in the middle of a marathon of energetic dancing at Megan’s wedding

I feel better dancing when I’m on a precarious rock wall.

— Sullivan, explaining why he was dancing all by himself on a rock wall outside the tent at Megan’s wedding

I am grateful for the Peters and the warm, fuzzy, family feeling I get when we come over for dinner—which we did tonight (eating the first of our venison in a chili Carla made) but which doesn’t happen nearly often enough these days. And it’s a funny observation where there used to be a bunch of teenage girls, now there are a bunch of teenage boys!

I am grateful for the theological flexibility I enjoy, which allows me to look at texts like Romans 13:11-14, which appear upon first reading to reinforce the idea that Paul was, like Jesus, Peter, and probably all the New Testament writers, mistaken in a belief in a literal, observable return of Jesus within his lifetime, and shrug my shoulders, saying, “Well, it could be that Paul was mistaken. And if he was, and even if Jesus was, it doesn’t change my commitment to Jesus. After all, Christianity is primarily a Way, not a Belief. Nevertheless, there are other interpretations: Perhaps Paul’s text does indeed refer to the divine judgement represented by the Jewish Wars and the destruction of Jerusalem—the context supports living a good life and honoring the authorities so as not to be caught up in the fires of judgment rained, which feasibly could have extended as far as Rome to anyone who associated themselves with the Jews, which would’ve included most Christians, I would think.”

I am grateful for being able to enjoy my own voice and share it with others who enjoy it, too. I shared “The Restroom Door Said Gentlemen” with the Peters over dinner. And Rich wrote as we corresponded about my selection for the next cabaret, “‘Friendship’ would be great! But you would still have to show off your pipes! Do you know ‘Where or When’ Rodgers and Hart?”

Bonus: I have persuaded Carla to agree to sing Cole Porter’s “Friendship” at the next FUSE Productions cabaret!

Here is the tidbit I think I’ll take home with from tonight’s Christmas-themed cabaret: Where should I point my eyes? Pick a point on the back wall about eye level—and sing to it and it only. It is a mistake to watch the audience, because then you tune in to their reactions or lack thereof and start to worry. Don’t be afraid to be an island within yourself, because they’ll enjoy watching it more if I just act.

Today I am grateful for Richard Biever, who works an awful lot under the auspices of his proprietorship FUSE Productions to bring the joys of taking in—and participating in—high-quality theatre to State College. I visited his house midday today to run through “O Holy Night” and suggest that I also sing “The Restroom Door Said Gentleman.”

I am also grateful for Carla, who continues to apply herself assiduously to making a happy Christmas for everyone in her social circle. Unfortunately, she said on our midday drive to HobbyTown USA today that she feels like she is losing God through it all.

A major plus about “Maria”: its highest note, a B♭, happens on the syllable “ma,” which is about as friendly a high-note syllable as one could request.

If, in my old age, you asked me to tell you one thing about my life as it was today, I predict I’d tell you it was a day I had intended to go hear Paul McCartney play at the Bryce Jordan Center—his first and probably last concert in State College, PA—but had neither found someone to go buy scalped tickets with (Carla was at a Council meeting) nor communicated well with the babysitter, Molly Hunter, who wasn’t going to have a ride home. Top that off with a $475 bicycle maintenance bill earlier that day, and you get me canceling with the babysitter at 6:30 p.m. It helps that I’ve never cared much for arena concerts and that the babysitter had four big exams happening all the next day.

Such is life when you prioritize: Some things go neglected. And very often they are the things that should go neglected.

There’s plenty of high-quality Christian music out there. Why not spin it more often? Listening to a few Jars and Crowder tracks this evening reminds me that I need not be shy.

My favorite thing is to make that piano reveberate [sic] like an explosive bāss violin.

— Sullivan, pronouncing “bass” like the fish, explaining what he loves about playing his new instrument

I got goosebumps this evening when I read…

“…Sing for joy in the Lord, O you righteous ones; Praise is becoming to the upright. Give thanks to the Lord with the lyre; Sing praises to Him with a harp of ten strings. Sing to Him a new song; Play skillfully with a shout of joy. For the word of the Lord is upright, And all His work is done in faithfulness. He loves righteousness and justice; The earth is full of the lovingkindness of the Lord.

[…]

“Behold, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear Him, On those who hope for His lovingkindness, To deliver their soul from death And to keep them alive in famine. Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our help and our shield. For our heart rejoices in Him, Because we trust in His holy name. Let Your lovingkindness, O Lord, be upon us, According as we have hoped in You” (Psalm 33:1-5,18-22).

And I think I got goosebumps because I’m supposed to have this same attitude in me. And I’m supposed to sing to Him.

The thing I’m most grateful for today is all the music-making that happened in my house, especially the “Beautiful Star of Bethlehem” with Matt and the three Christmas carols at the piano right before bedtime with Carla and the kids.

I’ll note three things today:

1. Carla got a conclusive answer about her allergies today from the allergist: She is allergic to dust mites. Hearing this relieved and excited me, because we finally now have a definite problem with definite solutions. I am eager to help her feel better.
2. Carla reminded me this evening that I can set boundaries and say no to the kids. I was expressing consternation that it was so difficult to concentrate on something I wanted to accomplish, like (this evening) finding a way to sing those B♭s in “Valjean’s Soliloquy,” while in the presence of the kids because they—especially Sullivan—would interrupt with chatter or questions or requests. She made it very simple and was in fact surprised that I was not setting boundaries. Thanks, Carla.
3. Reading about Jairus’ daughter this evening in The Jesus Storybook Bible found me asking inwardly, “Is this stuff going to hold up for her against 21st-century naturalistic bias? It seems like it’s ripe for scoffing and skepticism. Actually, I almost feel silly believing that this stuff actually happened. Is Jesus necessary?” Father, may it hold.

It was a delight yesterday to hear with the kids the Penn State senior flute quartet play with this piece, which had a lick I think they borrowed from Debussy. They did just that: play, passing the fetching melody back and forth, making for an exquisitely planned but apparently ludic soundscape. It made me think of God.

I woke up this morning with Raffi’s “All I Really Need” in my head. According to Mr. Cavoukian, here’s the list:

• a song in my heart
• food in my belly
• love in my family
• the rain to fall
• the sun to shine
• some clean water for drinking
• clean air for breathing

Many fewer people than do, myself included, have reason to complain or doubt whether God is good.

My suspicion is that God put the song in my head overnight. A nice little gift.

With Resurrection Letters Vol. 2, all Andrew Peterson needs to be the second (and improved) musical coming of Rich Mullins is a hammered dulcimer.

Finding Christian music I like is harder than finding non-Christian music I like because the lyrics matter more: You not only have to find music you like, you also have to find a theological bent you agree with. And you’re working with a smaller subset of the populations, so the pickings are slimmer.

The family couldn’t get enough “Hayloft” as covered by Nickel Creek today. (Well, that and Éa liked Dave Edmunds’ “I Hear You Knocking.”) This made me uncomfortable.