A Tune Full of Terror

Now by the altar,/Over the victim,/Ripe for our ritual,/Sing this enchantment:/A song without music,/A sword in the senses,/A Storm in the heart/And a fire in the brain;/A clamor of Furies/To paralyse reason,/A tune full of terror,/A drought in the soul! 

- Aeschylus, The Eumenides trans. Vellacott

What started out as a minor inconvenience one spring soon developed into a battle of the wills, a testing of patience, and a seemingly endless game of cat and mouse on par with the great chases and chess games of recent myth and lore. This eternal struggle was matched only by the highest of the genre: Poseidon and Odysseus, Juno and Aeneas, Arthur and Mordred, Holmes and Moriarty, Amadeus and Salieri, Batman and The Joker, Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote, Mr. Bean and the 3-wheeled car. I am of course, referring to the episode of Aaron Arnold and the Liberal Presbyterian Wesleyan-Baptist Canadian Geese.

This struggle for territorial dominance began innocently enough. The geese made their presence known in the usually goosey methods: Valkyrie-esque cries from above and remnants from previous meals from below. The task was simple: scare them away; for Canadian Geese are protected by federal law and to terminate their existence would be a crime punishable by woes unheard of. The method of frightening worked for a few days as our hero was alerted to their presence on campus and would divert his current work path to engage with the foul fowl. Time and time again they flew away their cries echoing over hill and dale. One might suspect that these were the bitter cries of defeat, but in reality these were the stinging curses that only geese in all their malice and hatred can utter.

The ante was upped and the geese began to nest in the vicinity of the daycare children, threatening the young and all that was good while claiming the maintenance shed for themselves. A permit was obtained from the federal government to dispose of the nest. While demolishing this den of iniquity, pieces of the infernal Malebolge were hurled at the transcontinental transgressors while the spawn of the devil birds was discovered, quietly anticipating the coming time that they would unleash their unmatched horrors upon an unsuspecting and unprepared world.

Our hero, armed with a broom and a permit from the federal government, disarmed the Geese’s stronghold of sin and abducted the encased embryos of potential evil. Then, away from innocent eyes, he performed the rite usually reserved for the first step in the ritual commonly referred to as “Saturday Breakfast.”

The honks of the unformed echoed silently across campus and into the ears of the progenitors  of perfidy who, having lost hearth, home, and the maintenance shed, vowed unrelenting vengeance upon their accuser, judge, and embryo Lord High egg-secutioner. 

The honks became more threatening. Their droppings, more obscene. Their presence, more ominous. Children, scared for their lives, heard the terrible webbed feet of the bestial Branta canadensis beating thunderously on the light metal roof above spelling out and weaving a nest of doom and despair for all. The geese summoned the Secret Four which joined them on their daily perfidious perambulations rendering chase on foot useless and ineffective, echoing the parable of unclean spirits leaving and returning. These geese could only be driven out by pursuit via golf kart.

Day in and day out, our hero mounted his mostly-untrusty steed, named Rozinante by those who knew her best, and gave chase to the wicked for whom there was no rest.

Then, one Wednesday in May as Youth Group was about to begin, our hero and his comrade-in-arms mounted Rozinante and gave chase to their quarry onto the Wesleyan shores. Fear was finally struck into the heart of the fowl, like a well-aimed shaft from a master bowmen. The geese took flight and all traces of these despicable debasers of all that is good disappeared like the morning dew upon greeting the sun in its triumphant glory.

And so it was that evil was purged from the land… only to return haughtily and mockingly a year later. Thus, venator est venatus, and all the efforts of the heroic were deemed Sisyphean at best, and a recurrence of Ragnarok at worst. Will this psychotic symphony of violence ever resolve? Or will this cadenza of chaos forever improvise upon the beats and measures of time?

Where the 0 Meets the 15

I recently returned home from Washington, D.C. where I, along with three other leaders, took a small group of youth to take part in various outreaches in the city. Originally, the trip was supposed to be much like last year’s trip where we worked with a church plant that my home church partners with and supports. While we were able to minister to this church plant in a few different ways (such as cleaning the building they meet in and collecting garbage around the area), our main event was washed out by what was looking to be a second deluge. This could have been a massive blow to us, but God is good and had other things in store for us.

                You see, last year, we went on a trip to minister to the same church plant and stayed at The William Penn House, which was a Quaker establishment that housed groups of any faith. The location and price were really good, but this year lodging at that location did not work out which set the youth pastor on the search for other housing options. The search yielded a group called CSM (City Service Mission) who would not only house us, but feed us various ethnic foods from local, family owned establishments in the area. Their goal is to bring groups in to volunteer at organizations around the area that minister to the poor and needy that partner with CSM as well as provide the volunteer groups that come in the opportunity to gain a new perspective on the lives of others who live much differently than the average middle class American.  Having not ever partnered with this organization before, none of us knew quite what to expect. Needless to say, it was a life changing 5 days.

The organizations we served with during the week included a breakfast/clothing to the poor and homeless, a food delivery service with tailored diets to those who were homebound, had illnesses, or addictions, and a neighborhood childcare ministry that was much like a daycare of sorts. It was wonderful to be a part of helping others receive the food they needed, an extreme joy to work with children who craved love and attention that “the missionaries” (as they called us) gave them, and I was blessed to get to know a few men at the breakfast ministry by just listening to their stories. One of these men started our conversation with “What do you think about this Trump fellow?” but my response of acknowledging that all leaders needed prayer met with agreement and the running phrase through our conversation that “God is good, all the time He is good.” This coming from a man who had been homeless at one point and was still in need, but who was absolutely blessed and actively acknowledged it without complaining of his conditions. And while these ministries were incredible to be a part of, the thing that made the most impact on me were the Prayer Tour and the Urban Plunge.

The Prayer Tour is just what it sounds like: a tour of the different parts of Washington D.C. while learning about those areas, the history of those areas, and what the lives are like of the people who live there. It was humbling and heartbreaking to hear about the gentrification of the areas and how bad the poverty was. In one instance, a few hundred families were getting thrown out on the streets because the area is being built up and nobody wants the families in the current building around. There are plans to get other places for these people to stay, but at present no one is really trying too hard to welcome these places into the proposed areas. There were other areas where needs were explained and by the end of the day it was absolutely draining to hear about all the need and to not know exactly what to do about it in order to make a difference. I mean, I could write to leaders in congress and what-not, but it still seemed that the problem seemed so massive and the undertaking so great that even anything said amidst other voices would just fall on deaf, uncaring ears. It reminded me of the sentiments Reese Roper expressed in the Five Iron Frenzy song Where the 0 Meets the 15:

What do I have to give them? Does it matter if I try?

I can’t stand to see you suffer, I try to intellectualize,

a formula to end you pain, it doesn’t work,

God knows I’ve tried. Sometimes my cup is overfilled.

Sometimes I’m too afraid that I’m going to spill.*

Thankfully, I did not feel quite like the weight of the world and that all the problems of the world had to be solved by the end of the week, largely in part to another activity we did called The Urban Plunge.

The Urban Plunge was an activity that put you face to face with the community and let you experience firsthand what one would need to know were one living on the streets. Each participant got $2 for lunch (the average amount a person may make per day by panhandling) and had to find out from members of the community (whether they were homeless, poor, or anyone else) where to find water, toilets, shelter, bedding, places for belongings, healthcare, etc. This activity was more difficult than you might think. There were no public bathrooms in the convenient stores and the Chick-Fil-A was an outdoor walk up or drive thru. Thankfully we got free water at the Chick-Fil-A and we found a fire station where they let us use the bathroom. We learned about a place that provided food, shelter, showers, and medical care but we were also told it was a rough place to be. Finding food to last you for a day was extremely difficult. Even with combining our money to have $10 to spend (there were 5 of us) we were only going to be able to buy a few pieces of chicken at Popeye’s. We ended up combining our money to buy a 3 course meal at Dollar General with bologna, cheese, tortillas, chips, crackers, and chocolate covered donuts. We even had $1.25 left over and were able to share our extra food with some ladies in need close to the picnic area we made in the street. We prayed for them and they let us know how encouraged they were. It was such a blessing to know that something so small could be so impactful.

After reflecting on how difficult it was to get anything, it really hit me: you don’t have to completely solve poverty in the US to make an impact on those in need and that’s not what everyone is called to do. What was it Jesus said?

“And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward.” (Matthew 10:10)

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me. […] Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:35-6; 40).

Certainly there is more we can do, but I think my major take away was that it’s much better to do something small than nothing at all and that the smallest act can make a huge impact, whether that’s a small bit of food, a little bit of water, or just a listening ear and a word of prayer. I’m planning on having small snacks/water on hand in my car to give out to people when I’m out and about and I would encourage you to join me in doing the same.

For more information about CSM, visit their website: http://www.csm.org/

(*Lyrics by Five Iron Frenzy)

Once Upon a Time, I Hated Beethoven's Music

As I am writing this, I'm listening to what was recently voted as the greatest symphony ever written, Beethoven's 3rd, otherwise known as The Eroica. This particular recording is conducted by Herbert von Karajan with the Berlin Philharmonic from the 1970's. So far, it sounds wonderful and I have enjoyed the cycle so far. The sound quality is good, the tempos are not off, and the orchestra has a rich, full sound.
If you know me, then you know I love Beethoven. I own several cycles of his symphonies, own a Beethoven bust and a Beethoven action figure, and, believe or not, I wrote a children's book about Beethoven for a school assignment. But once upon a time, I hated Beethoven's music. I thought it was overrated and I even gave a cycle of his symphonies a listen to try to appreciate it. But for some reason, I just did not like his music. I might have been predisposed because I thought it was too mainstream as far as symphonic music is concerned, but eventually I gave it another go after listening to some of the tracks from the Beethoven album by Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Then, after listening through Solti's older cycle of symphonies and listening through his piano sonatas, I started really appreciating Beethoven's music. It took a little time, but after I gave the music a chance without bringing any attitudes against the music and started actually listening, I was able to enjoy his music. Now, listening to Leonard Bernstein analyze The Eroica is like poetry and I own several books about Beethoven's symphonies as well as several Beethoven biographies.
Now what in the world does this have to do with anything?
Well, I write this to say that, whatever it is you are predisposed against or find yourself avoiding without ever giving a chance, is something you should try unless it violates some moral principle or standard that you have (Unicorn Fraps fall into this category). Maybe it's some kind of strange food (again, unless it's a Unicorn Frap), a book, or a movie that you just don't think you would like because you're bringing assumptions and attitudes to it before you have a chance to enjoy whatever it may be. Maybe you're wrong; maybe you would like it. Maybe you would even love it. Get out there and try new things. Discover a new side to you or a new aspect of God's wonderful creation. Who knows what you might find out there?

Permit me, I'll explain in two words

I have decided to once more pick up the pen (or rather the keyboard) and blog. In some places I have claimed to be a writer. However, I have not written in a long time...at least not since I finished my last semester of school (or back in July when I typed out the last entry). I decided that if I didn't blog or write in some way, then my mind would either rot or explode from all the stuff that I'm reading, so I need some outlet in what's going on upstairs. Also, I would like to write in some capacity and those in greater authority than myself say if you want to write you need a blog. I know I wrote more and my mind was stimulated more when I had a Xanga, waaaaaay back in yesteryear. So, here we are again. Of course, I don't think anyone reads this, even though the stats said 126 views. That's probably a mistake on the part of the counter or the people who stumbled across this blog. But anyways...

To get started, I'll explain what this is.

Precious Nonsense. That's what it is. The name is taken from Gilbert and Sullivan's Patience in which Reginald Bunthorne's poetry is explained as "precious nonsense." That's probably the best way to explain whatever I put on here (whether it's "precious", "nonsense", or "precious nonsense"). I've thought about blogging about Christianity and jumping into the Christian blogosphere, but usually Christian bloggers just make me mad because it's just a bunch of name calling and a Who's Who in the Current Book of Happy Book of Heretics. If you don't understand this Christianese, then you are probably blessed beyond measure. If it's not that, then Christian blogging is about how one's theology is better than another and really it just seems to divide more than it brings people together or help people see Christ. So I want to stay away from that as much as I can. Of course, I'll probably have a lot about Christianity on here and thoughts on Bible passages or current states of affair in Christianity, but we will see. This is all assuming I blog normally.

What you'll more than likely find here is a smattering of thoughts about the current literature I'm reading, posts about Batman, theories about CW's "The Flash", griping about Fox's "Gotham", how reading and understanding The Lord of the Rings makes you a better person, praise for the music of Richard Wagner, Johannes Brahms, Ludwig van Beethoven, Claude Debussy, and a little bit about Gilbert and Sullivan, since I can whistle all the airs of that infernal nonsense Pinafore...which would be a great alternative title to this blog: "Infernal Nonsense."

And just in case you were wondering (because I know all five and a half of you were), "tarantara tarantara" (part of the URL) comes from The Pirates of Penzance, my Gmail comes from Patience, as does my Instagram and Twitter (compare AbsurdApostle with Grosvenor's "Archibald the Alrighty, Apostle of Simplicity").

So there you go. You know about 1% of what there is to know about me and my world.

Does this still work?

Well, does it? 

New Keyboard

Amazon was selling Bluetooth keyboards for cheap, so I bought one so I could blog on my phone easier. Also, I reasoned that if I spent money on a setup like this, I would be more likely to use it. I am not sure about how practical this is but it's fun!

I'm sure I can also do this on my Galaxy tab. What did we do without Bluetooth?

Take 2

I'm going to try this again. I once (or twice) made a blog and it didn't work. Well it did, but alas, it's creator did not. I'm going to try again, now that I KNOW how to log into my blog. No one will read it, but that's OK. It's only precious nonsense!

BTW these colors are ATROCIOUS as I commented down below.

Also, blogging to oneself is the first (or second) sign of madness.

And I fixed the colors do they aren't as bad.