The League of David

Remiss of Duties

Sorry, My Three Readers, I've been on vacation.  It was an unplanned, but thoroughly welcomed decision to get the hell out of DC for a few days.  I returned to the beaches of Long Island Sound, specifically Mattituck (not my picture).  I drank great wine and wonderful goat cheese and shared a bench with an old friend in the heart of hoity toity Quogue, ridiculing all the Kerry voters as they passed. 

Real Men

To counter balance this recent post, I'd like to draw your attention to two wonderful stories of heroism and self-sacrifice by two real men.  Both stories come from a recent issue of the Catholic Standard, the newspaper of the Archdiocese of Washington, DC.  First is the story of Commander Erik S. Kristensen, a Navy SEAL recently killed in Afghanistan:

"Because of his determination, little was beyond him," said Jesuit Father Thomas Clifford. In his homily, Father Clifford recalled wondering how Kristensen would move from the classroom to the rigorous training required of the Navy SEALs.

But the priest said he also had difficulty figuring out how such a giant man could come to love literature and help others love literature too. "He protected his inmost thoughts rather fiercely." Father Clifford said he imagined Kristensen's heaven would resemble a great library with classic literature thrown in piles across the tables and a lacrosse stick leaning against the wall.

Kristensen who spoke French, planned to study at the Institute of Political Studies in Paris next year. He had been selected as an Olmstead Foundation Scholar. "He would have been a wonderful teacher, a wonderful writer," Suzanne Kristensen said.

There there's the story of simple bravery and everyday heroism (story not available online, but recorded here):

For rescuing a woman from a burning car, Redemptorist student Tom McCluskey was given the Maryland Citizen of the Year award...McCluskey pulled the woman from the car when he spotted it along Route 197 in Bowie on September 11, 2004.  He and two other men from the Baltimore Province of the Redemptorists were heading for Holy Redeemer College here in Washington when the witnessed a sport utility vehicle flip and burst into flames.  McCluskey , a former Marine, pulled the women, whose clothes were on fire, from the car. Several others helped.  Shortly after, the rescue, the car exploded.  McCluskey used his own short to extinguish the flames on the victim.

I have no words to describe how grateful I am to these two men:  one died in selfless service to his country, one has chosen a life of sacred sacrifice. Both in their own way are keeping me safe from the demonic forces of jihadism and the other legions of the Evil One. 

Each one is a blessing, and give me continued hope for our future.

Boorman or Bust

I'm off to see the Tailor of Panama.  I've been wanting to see this movie since I heard it was directed by the good, but often ignored, British director, John Boorman.  Like any movie director, he's had a few career  highs and lows, but some of his films have been fabulous, like Excalibur (fun, and true to the spirit of Malory). 

Boorman is a low-key director, and he often subsumes any tendency toward self-conscious "artistry" to let his stories live their own lives.  For that, he has my admiration.

Also, unless something happens, I won't be regularly posting again until the next week.  I have friends coming from out of town, and way too much work to do until then. 

Enjoy.

Jordi Savall: Where Technology & the Ancients Meet in Near Perfection

I know you're asking, "Who?"

The New York Times -- of all the Philistine rags -- has a wonderful profile of Jordi Savall, a Spanish cellist who picked up a viola de gamba about forty years ago and hasn't put it down.  Over the years he's gained a reputation for excellence in performance. conducting and recording Medieval and Renaissance music. 

But the New York Times' article suffers from a major understatement: 

He is now regarded as one of the most eloquent advocates for the viol, and the three ensembles he directs - the chamber-scale Hespèrion XXI, as well as Le Concert des Nations, a Baroque orchestra, and La Capella Reial de Catalunya, a vocal group - are renowned for polished performances.

Polished performances?  Uh, no.  How about a decades-long obsession with creating the perfect recording. 

His recordings of medieval sybelline chants are a straight path to his vision.

This is the Latin Sybil from the first recording, El Cant da la Sibil.LA I.  I've taken the scary step of adding a longer segment of the same track:

Download jordi.mov

(right click to save it to your computer, and if you don't have QuickTime, get it)

The only way to listen to this music is to buy the CD and try it out on your best stereo, with headphones.

The text is in Latin and comes from St. Augustine's The City of God (Bk 18, Ch. 23):

Judgment shall moisten the earth with the sweat of its standard,
Ever enduring, behold the King shall come through the ages,
Sent to be here in the flesh, and Judge at the last of the world.
O God, the believing and faithless alike shall behold Thee
Uplifted with saints, when at last the ages are ended.
Seated before Him are souls in the flesh for His judgment.

Hid in thick vapors, the while desolate lieth the earth.
Rejected by men are the idols and long hidden treasures;
Earth is consumed by the fire, and it searcheth the ocean and heaven;
Issuing forth, it destroyeth the terrible portals of hell.
Saints in their body and soul freedom and light shall inherit;
Those who are guilty shall burn in fire and brimstone for ever.
Occult actions revealing, each one shall publish his secrets;
Secrets of every man’s heart God shall reveal in the light.

Then shall be weeping and wailing, yea, and gnashing of teeth;
Eclipsed is the sun, and silenced the stars in their chorus.
Over and gone is the splendor of moonlight, melted the heaven,
Uplifted by Him are the valleys, and cast down the mountains.

Utterly gone among men are distinctions of lofty and lowly.
Into the plains rush the hills, the skies and oceans are mingled.
Oh, what an end of all things! earth broken in pieces shall perish;
  .   .   .   Swelling together at once shall the waters and flames flow in rivers.

Sounding the archangel’s trumpet shall peal down from heaven,
Over the wicked who groan in their guilt and their manifold sorrows.
Trembling, the earth shall be opened, revealing chaos and hell.
Every king before God shall stand in that day to be judged.
Rivers of fire and brimstone shall fall from the heavens.

This is Christmas music, folks, medieval style.

Swing Music Moment

Louis Jordan's music keeps on getting stuck in my head.   I knew nothing of this man before I started listening to the swing music stream on my satellite radio.  There's a site dedicated to his life and music, and fortunately for me, the site has lyrics.

I live near a major train throughway, and every hour on the hour one of those really big, long freight trains comes rumbling through.  This inevitably leads me to...

Choo Choo Ch'Boogie                              

Headin' for the station with a pack on my back
I'm tired of transportation in the back of my hack
I love to hear the rhythm of the clickety clack
And hear the lonesome whistle see the smoke from the stack to pal around
With democratic fellows named mac
So take me right back to the track, jack

Choo-choo, choo-choo, ch'boogie, woo-woo
Woo-woo, ch'boogie, choo-choo, choo-choo, ch'boogie
Take me right back to the track, jack

You reach your destination but you don't go back
You need some compensation to get back in the black
You take a morning paper from the top of the stack
And read the situations from the front to the back
But the only job that's open needs a man with a knack
So put it right back in the rack, jack

Neat!

You can almost hear the Imperial March!

Boundless Invention

Cute.