... lest Satan should take advantage of us; for we are not ignorant of his devices." O come, come all, ye weak and weary,
Ye souls bowed down with many a care;
Arise and leave your dungeons dreary
And listen to His promise fair:
'Ye bore your burdens meek and lowly,
I will fulfil My pledge most holy,
I'll be your Solace and your Rest.
Ye are Mine own, I will requite you;
Tho' sin and Satan seek to smite you,
Rejoice! Your home is with the blest.' "
Getting through weekday mornings was always a challenge in our house. Not necessarily for us sisters (of whom there were three, and all within a few years of one another), but for Mom and Dad. First off, my sisters and I had equal aversion to anything taking place in the first few hours of the day. Secondly, bathroom time was distributed on a ‘first come, first served’ basis. But the biggest problem was simply getting us up (not merely awake, but physically out of bed) and going. My sisters and I were (and perhaps still are!) a bit prickly in the morning. The task of raising us from unconsciousness seemed to fall on Dad the most often, though I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was his undeniably effective strategies for doing so.
Sometimes Dad’s routine consisted of rapid exposure to chilly Minnesota breeze (present even indoors in winter) a la blanket stealing. Other times there was a competition introduced, which could be anything from, “Mom made something special for breakfast so you’d better get down there soon!” to “I’m going to use the bathroom and afterward, well, you might not want to go in there awhile.” Being naturally competitive with each other certainly helped spur my sisters and I on, but there were days where we just couldn’t get out of bed because we were so tired we might collapse if we did! (Or so we claimed.) What was Dad to do then? There was still one move left in the sneaky Dad bag of wake-you-up tricks; a little ditty by the name of, “O Magnum, Mysterium.”
I’m laughing as I type this, remembering Dad’s deep bass bellow through the hallway: “Oooh Mag-nuuum, Mysteri-uuum!” But trust me, I wasn’t laughing back then! This was definitely not my preferred way to start the day. I didn’t have the foggiest clue what this song was about, or who wrote it, or why Dad liked it so much. All I remember thinking back then was, “The faster I get out of bed, the sooner he will stop singing!” And Dad would oblige. That is, until he realized he could use this form of melodic blitz not just to get us out of bed, but to make us move down the hallway, the stairs and out the door that much quicker.
When I recalled this particular memory of Dad I realized I had never given much thought to why he chose this song over any other. Surely he must have had some reason? And yet, I’ve never taken the time to ask him why he liked “O Magnum” so much. Perhaps I will finally do so this year. In preparation, I did a little research and discovered this is a beautiful hymn, with mighty lyrics! The Latin lyrics are as follows:
O magnum mysterium et admirabile sacramentum
Ut animalia viderent Dominum natum
Jacentem in proesepio.
O beata virgo, cujus viscera me ruerunt portare
Dominum Jesum Christum
Alleluja!
O Great mystery and wondrous sacrament,
That animal might see the birth of the Lord
As He lay in the manger.
O, Blessed Virgin,
Who was worthy of bearing
Our Lord Jesus Christ.
Alleluia!
Reading the English translation is akin to consulting the NIV after reading something in the King James; it’s the same meaning, but just not as pretty. Read these lyrics, though, and understand both their simplicity and their weight. There is but one subject: the mystery of God’s goodness toward us. This is noted first by the lyricist in his noting that we animals were included at the birth of our Savior, as witnesses. This fact is a wondrous sacrament, that we, even as fallen people, could be there! The lyricist continues, praising the blessedness of Mary, who was worthy of bearing the Christ child. That there have been many God has chosen to carry out His works- Alleluia!
The importance of Dad’s choosing “O Magnum Mysterium” was always, well, a mystery to me. I speculate now that the message it sends us- we fallen people have a God so good that He includes us in His plans- is one we ought to sing to ourselves every day.
Thanks goes to my Dad for putting this idea in my head long ago, before I could have started to comprehend it, so that it could strengthen my faith later in life.
Praise always to my Father for giving me His blessings!
This is the street we lived on in uptown New York. 
NY has some strict policies. We adapted.
Their rules couldn't stop us from being cute. (My fiancé is so handsome!!)
Or from drinking their free wine and being philosophical.
We contemplated staying forever and living in the foyer,
or moving to Brooklyn,
or maybe just living closer to these trees.
Wherever we end up, we'll be doing a lot of this (I hope).
I spent the latter half of a work day on Saturday watching the Soul Train awards with my client. Normally I wouldn't watch a music awards show because since I am a creature of habit and my music range is limited to about fifty artists, I don't know most of the bands or individuals being presented to or by (some of you can verify this; I only listen to new music when you give it to me, never because I sought it out myself). But there I was, at the mercy of my 84-year-old lady's entertainment whimsy. It was either WTTW news or Soul Train. Soul Train won. Odd choice, I thought, but apparently it's her bag.
So there we were, not enjoying either Vivica Fox's cleavage nor the Black Eyed Peas' sub-par performance of "My Hump," when onto the stage walks Stevie Wonder, a beacon in this, the soulless land of a musical genre gone wrong. Mr. Wonder (whose title is so appropriate) is there to give out the, get this, "Stevie Wonder lifetime achievement in songwriting" award. He gives his prepared speech explaining the tradition of the award, how he thinks it strange to be presenting an award of his own name, etc. Then, just before he is to announce the winner he pauses, says, "Now, I want to say something else before we give this award out. This is for all the musicians and producers in here tonight: you have to remember that you have a responsibility as an artist. You have to remember that the music you create is out in the world now, forever. I'm just asking you tonight to be aware of the music you put out there, because it's infinite. And now, I want to announce the winner of the Stevie Wonder award: R. Kelly."
Wait. What? Did I hear him right? R. Kelly as the winner of the lifetime achievement in songwriting award? I mean, let's forget about his personal life for a second, the underage sex partners, the miscellaneous acts of deviancy and indecency. Put all of that aside. The beauty of his music, that's what is on trial here.
Have you stopped snickering at my last statement? Go ahead, take a minute if you need to. Now, can you separate an artist from his art? Can you take his professional life and split it apart, truly and completely split it from his personal? Not only is it improbable to do so, it's impossible. You see, an artist has a unique position in the world in that his creative output is a reflection of the innerworkings of him, his soul. Likewise his soul's whim is what drives him to create the music that he does. In addition, his personal endeavors are motivated by his soul's desires. So, if the outcomes of both his professional endeavors (his music) and his personal endeavors (his sexual deviancy) are the same, are we not to assume they came from the same source (his soul)? I might be going out on a limb to say that R. Kelly is soulless. So I won't. And actually, I think he has a soul, but it's full of spite and sadness and longing, which is what makes him believe this world is all he will ever have, which makes him want to destroy it with his patented brand of "R&B to pee on a thirteen-year-old girl to."
But I digress. I don't care much about R. Kelly in the long run, except that someday I hope he finds enough joy in his life to make a song worth repeating the words of (didn't he once believe he could fly? When did he convince himself he was earthbound eternally?). Really, all I want is for "artists" like him to do one of the following:
A) Thank God for your singing/writing/producing talent and stop before thanking Him for getting you where you are today. God didn't ask you to sing about your humps, or if her man is on the floor, or how you just want to be some man's dessert. Nah, He gave you the gift to sing/write/produce, but I bet money He'd rather you sing about something NICE (i.e. not contradictory to His idea of goodness).
B) Stop mentioning God altogether when you accept your award. Know that your superficial shout-out to the Almighty is NOT indicative of the relationship He wishes you had with Him. The God you think you're thanking is shaking His head and better odds He's listening to nothing rather than Charlie Rich.
or,
C) Truly thank God for your talents and use them to sing about good things. I know, doesn't that sound trite- good things- but I mean it; wouldn't it be wonderful if the audience got more excited to hear about the love and joy you feel for your life than anything Mariah Carey has to offer (please reference: any song on "The Emancipation...")?
It should be noted: Not every award given was illegitimately so. John Legend, for example, won several awards this year at S.T. He thanked his fellow musicians, his family, his fans and, only once, God, adding that it was because of God that he could sing at all, and for Him he was trying to do good in the eyes of. Amen, John.
