Julian of Norwich asked three things of God: a sympathetic vision of Christ’s suffering; an encounter with debilitating physical illness to facilitate pure worship and nearness to God; and “three wounds” described here:
These two desires of the Passion and the sickness I desired with a condition, saying thus: Lord, Thou knowest what I would,—if it be Thy will that I have it—; and if it be not Thy will, good Lord, be not displeased: for I will nought but as Thou wilt.
For the Third [petition], by the grace of God and teaching of Holy Church I conceived a mighty desire to receive three wounds in my life: that is to say, the wound of very contrition, the wound of kind compassion, and the wound of steadfast longing toward God. And all this last petition I asked without any condition.
These two desires aforesaid passed from my mind, but the third dwelled with me continually.
Today is Julian of Norwich’s feast day in the Anglican and Lutheran calendars. But I haven’t gotten anything together to write about that. But, don’t worry, all shall be well, because I can celebrate it Tuesday with the Roman Catholics.
In the meantime, here’s David Karsten Daniels driving around Austin singing a song I like. He was born in Lubbock, and he’s all bald and beardy, so I’m fer ‘im.
Might require an extended siesta. But bite off a chunk if you’ve got some time. The whole band comes out to open with Candil Candelario at about 11:00. Quetzal es muy bueno.
Hard to believe you can get a crowd these days at an event called “Bible Lectures,” but it’s a great week around here for seeing folks you love to see and hearing folks who’ve given some thought to what matters. Highlight of the week so far was a few nights ago when a coupla ministers from Uganda received an honor. Before a predominantly white crowd of over 2000 (preacher’s guess), a Ugandan woman stepped to the microphone and stretched her arms out. She said something like (feel free to correct me if you were there): “When Jesus stretched his arms out on the cross, he brought together Jews and Gentiles, Africans and Americans, black Americans and white Americans.” As the respected speaker who followed her on the text “love your enemies” acknowledged, he got out-preached. It just matters who says it.
I have not committed my vote, but I am now more interested in attending Senator Obama’s church.* Here is Rev. Jeremiah Wright addressing the National Press Club (broadcast on CSPAN and FOX News in its entirety). He invokes the prophetic tradition in the Black Church in America as the full context of his recently excerpted comments that have been so inflammatory on the political scene. Agreeing or not with his wider theology, I like the idea that the Tradition of the whole church serves as a criteria for discerning the prophetic role of the church; not just the segment of history and location of those with the biggest microphones.
I also think this is a great opportunity, agreeing or not with Wright’s politics, to consider the way scripture speaks to power, or to the dominant culture. There are a lot of white churches presenting incendiary texts every week without anything catching fire. Who gets to speak for God? Well, who does God tend to pick?
*Part 3 is where I start getting that urge to go forward.
So, I started the year eager for some harder fare, but after a several weeks of grinding and droning on with the Whigs, Ladyhawk, the Foals, the Dodos, and pop punchsters Vampire Weekend, I found myself under a self-induced avalanche of Van Morrison and Elvis Costello, and then back at blues guitar, digging out Buddy Guy, Muddy Waters, and the lovely Big Mama Thornton (a new purchase for me) for a good soak. I’ve brushed up against some formidable folksters like Andy Gullahorn and the Jack-Johnson-being-eaten-by-a-panther sounds of Thao, and am still getting used to the new Weepies. Out of all that, a standout on the rock side has been the techneoise multiinstru-mentalists Throw Me the Statue and their funky-cool drummer, whoever that is (they might all be Scott Reitherman).
But, surprisingly, my first quarter pick (with Gullahorn coming in close second) is Sun Kil Moon’sApril. I first came across Moon’s songwriter Mark Kozelek with the Red House Painters, I b’lieve this was ’bout the time of the Great P2P Rush of aught one. I dug the quiet, melodic stuff they were doing. This low, dawdling album reflects that charming hush; dense, but avoiding monotone or fuzzy, and always played like a late night serenade never intended for the neighbors. And as I’m scratching the surface of things lyrically, I’m finding that rewarding, too. The geography in “Lucky Man” pulls right into my driveway, and then he offers the lovely line, “I didn’t know my purpose, ’til I stood and sang.”
For all my whiddla whiddla posturing, the song’s the thing.
I’ve been thinking about the whole Mariah Carey out #1’s Elvis thing, and this is about all I have to say about it.
Big Mama Thornton ft. Buddy Guy - Hound Dog
Interesting to think about what it meant for Elvis to record Big Mama’s “Hound Dog” (Lieber/Stoller) compared to what it meant for Aretha to record Otis Redding’s “Respect.” Essay question to follow.
It's mostly just stuff for friends stopping by (and not all of it for any particular one), but anybody's welcome to pull up a chair. I write mostly about music, American culture, places I notice God turning up in the world, and trying to connect all that with folks I get to meet. I'm a 1/2 Southern CA and 1/2 West Texas bred student, husband, parent, and guy.
