Somewhere, Falwell's Ears Are On Fire

When I was in the eighth grade, something occurred in my life that I had never experienced before. I actually looked forward to one of my classes - foreign language, to be specific. I was attentive during lessons, I participated in exercises, and turned in finished homework. But the newest experience: I got grades with straight, not curved, lines.

Suddenly, school wasn't something you did until basketball practice started.

Our junior high curriculum offered two foreign language options: Latin and French. The two classes were essentially split along gender lines: the girls wanted to speak the language of romance; the boys wanted to do the opposite of whatever the girls did.

On second thought, I should have chosen French. I think they just learned the most commonly used French phrases: "I surrender", "I need a bath", and "Good thing Eisenhower knew his way around Omaha Beach or else I'd be goosestepping my French butt down to the Biergarten".

On the other hand, I learned how to conjugate verbs, put the verb at the end of the sentence and indirect objects before the subject noun. In Latin class a lot I learned. Just learn to speak like Yoda, and you'll get the hang quickly.

I picked it up again in college. Two years of it, in fact. During the same time period, I took several history classes that focused on the Medieval Ages. One class in particular focused on the rise of Christianity in medieval Europe.

The two interests merged when I found a cd of Gregorian Chants. Nowadays, I don't listen to those cd's with much frequency. And most of the time, they're played as background noise, something to hear but not always listen to. But since my mind was a bit muddled yesterday, I listened to them on the drive home yesterday and today.

Gregorian chants go back to the time of Charlemagne. It is believed Pope Gregory brought this specific method of incantated song from Byzantium to Rome. And just as many other Christian rituals are borrowed from other major world religions, the chants allowed converted practitioners to feel more comfortable worshipping a different God, but in a familiar way.

My father- and mother-in-law are Catholic. I've talked to Larry several times over the years about how the Catholic Church has evolved over the decades to become more appealing to the general public, but also more active in the political process, particularly in regards to setting the social agenda. Larry grew up in the Catholic church when it conducted liturgical rituals in Latin. I recall Larry saying that it may have created something of a disconnect with the average church member, but there was something divine and authoritative about it.

The best he could remember, it was during the Seventies that Latin was no longer commonly used in the Catholic Church. Now, everything is performed in the native tongue of the congregation - even the chants.

I know in my heart I am not listening to the music for its intended religious purposes and, being the purist I am, feel an occasional twinge of guilt for it. But as it combines two great interests, foreign languages and religious history, I find the a capella music refreshing and calming. And it does illicit some sort of quasi-meditative state of mind.

But Gregorian chants are not meant to be relaxing or calming. Going to church was not a feel-good activity; it was spiritually exhausting and required extensive dedication. After all, confessing one's sins was not pleasurable; neither was the punishment that ensued.

Worship of the Lord was not casual in the 800's. It was meant to be quite intense and rather excruciating. If one walked away from Mass feeling blissful, something was wrong. The proper way was to feel like permanent condemnation was only a peccadillo away.

I guess I'm somewhere in the middle. One's relationship with the Savior should be very personal and informal. But maybe the outward expression of that relationship should have the aura of solemnity and respect.

I remember visiting different churches with friends growing up. Most congregations used some sort of revised version of the King James Bible. Being familiar with only the King James version, many of the verses read out loud during service were familiar, but not how I learned them verbatim.

I found it odd that the language of Jesus and the Disciples sounded like something I'd read in a novel. I had a hard time visioning The Messiah saying something like, "Homeboy gots to grub on more than the dough, yo. Howzit 'bout with the shizzle of God." And in case you didn't get that, "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God."

Wow, did I just sentence myself to an eternity of fire and brimstone?

Okay, maybe that's a looser translation than what I actually heard. But to a kid whose readings of the Bible were filled with pauses to understand what was just read out loud, that's how it appeared.

But getting back to the melding of two interests that created this post: I'm thankful for the bits and pieces of information I've acquired throughout my life. They give greater depth of meaning to the important things in my life. Religious context becomes widened when viewed through a historical prism.

Plus, I've noticed that in almost every paragraph, there is a word of Latin origin.