Requiem for a Thought

When I went to mass a few weeks ago, something interesting happened. I went to the 12:45pm mass, which is usually reserved for the most casual of adults. (The last mass, 5:30pm, is for the high schoolers.)

Sitting next to me in the pew was an older man. His hair was thinning quite a bit, so it was hard to tell just how old he was. I’d place him in his mid-50s, but he may have been a little older. He wore glasses and had shorts on—something you don’t normally see older adults with, at least not at a church service.

For those of you who haven’t had the opportunity to attend a Catholic mass: 1) you should give it a shot some time 2) there is a lot of oral reciting, interspersed with singing, which, not surprisingly, is usually done by reciting. This is a crucial point, for without it, nothing that follows will seem as interesting.

So back to this gentleman next to me: He had a normal voice when he recited various prayers and spoke, but his singing was something else. I’ve never heard someone who was literally tone deaf, until this man started to sing. I could understand completely such a singing disability if his voice was somehow abnormal. In fact, given the careers of successful singers, a poor speaking voice can be turned into an asset once sung. (Think Dylan and Cocker.)

Think of your average person with a hearing disability. When they speak, they tend not to have tonal control because hearing is such an integral part of speaking. If you cover your ears and talk long enough, your voice will probably change noticeably to the people listening to you. This man sitting next to me sang as if he were deaf. AND, to top it off, he made sure to sing as loud as he could. Wow.

“Biting one’s lip” took on a whole new meaning. The adolescents behind me snickered, and I just kept looking down, up, left, but not to the right. The voice that would make dogs cry was to the right.

But my story does not end here. Nay, it only gets stranger…

During the communion procession (where every one eventually files out of the pew and head up for the Eucharist), there is a song. It tends to be one of a handful of songs, all very well known. At this point I hear sniffling from the right. Sniffling tear? Or sniffling allergies? Which one is it going to be? Am I going to hear tone deaf sneezing? Is that even possible?

He’s not just crying, he’s balling. He takes his glasses off to wipe his eyes, and I just want to reach over and give the guy a hug. Sometimes these communion songs can make people emotional, but it didn’t appear he knew this one since he had to look it up. But there he is, crying. And I’m thinking that this is one of my strangest church experiences.

This leads me into the larger point of this post. Henry David Thoreau, the misanthropic American writer, said that “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” I think that’s largely true. How many people are happy with their jobs? How many marriages end in divorce? Zoloft, anyone? And those are just a few things that make headlines of magazines and time-wasting websites.

We all suffer in life. Now that doesn’t mean we are all depressed. Depression seems to be more of a clinical, long-term sense of despair and longing. But sadness, loneliness, frustration, guilt, shame, etc. are a huge part of the human condition. Why are dramas so popular? Why is it Shakespeare's tragedies, rather than his comedies, that so often grab our attention? I think I've written on this topic in an earlier post. But seeing this man in church made me realize that even in a crowded house of God, we are so isolated from each other. We don't really know all of what is going on in one's life.

“And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.” Aeschylus (525 BC —456 BC)

I really like Thai food. And so I've found a local Thai place here in Dallas that serves wonderful food--Thai Soon. Inside this small restaurant, which used to be located near downtown, is a handful of tables. In total, the place probably can handle about 20 people at one time. When I first stumbled over the eatery, I was pleasantly surprised to find numerous awards and positive newspaper reviews posted on a wall near the register. So I figured that the food was going to be good at least and probably authentic (not that I've been to Thailand to see for myself). Well, today I found out just how authentic the food is.

As my dad and I walked into the restaurant, we immediately noticed the 5 BUDDHIST MONKS sitting at a table eating together. Now I've met Catholic monks, brothers, and priests who wear various habits. That's one thing. But today was surreal. Each was wearing the traditional orange robe of Theravada Buddhism.

First of all, I didn't think I'd ever see Buddhist monks in person, let alone in a restaurant. I figured that they lived such ascetic lifestyles that they basically cooked rice and beans. Then I wondered how they got to the restaurant, especially since there isn't a monastery across the street. Certainly they aren't sporting the 5 series, I thought to myself. Indeed they were not. Instead, they had a large "Church van” that they all climbed into after their meal.

To me it has always been refreshing to listen to people discuss their religious beliefs, especially when those beliefs are radically different than my own. Similarly, when I actually see first hand people who have chosen a way of life that is so staggeringly strange to most people, it makes me realize that faith in something is universal. And it’s not a Western vs. Eastern thing, because, like I mentioned earlier, Catholic brothers and nuns take vows very similar to those that these Buddhist monks took. It’s amazing that in cultures that are so vastly different both in location and philosophy there is still at least one huge similarity—the renunciation of materialism.

Buddhist monks visiting the The Buddhist Center of Dallas. (Probably not the same ones at Thai Soon, but the same clothes.)

According to the Bay Area Center for Voting Research, I live in the most politically liberal city in Texas (Dallas) and the 32nd most liberal city in the United States. I think that's hilarious, if true; I don't mind sticking it to Austin any chance I get.

To the left is the famous map of RED and BLUE states by county voting results. It was generated by Robert J. Vanderi of Princeton University.

Other cities on the list:

Most Liberal/Most Conservative

1. Detroit, MI/Provo, UT
2. Gary, IN/Lubbock, TX
3. Berkeley, CA/Abilene, TX
4. Washington, D.C./Hialeah,FL
5. Oakland, CA/Plano, TX
6. Inglewood, CA/Colorado Springs, CO
7. Newark, NJ/Gilbert, AZ
8. Cambridge, MA/Bakersfield, CA
9. San Francisco, CA/Lafayette, LA
10. Flint, MI/Orange, CA

A Distorted Legacy: Hiroshima and Nagasaki

Many of you by now have been watching news accounts of the 60^th anniversary of the United States dropping two atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima (Aug. 6) and Nagasaki (Aug. 9) in 1945. What you probably haven’t heard is some perspective on the event. That is, the events that transpired on the Japanese mainland in early August of 1945 did not occur within a vacuum.

Writing in today’s The Dallas Morning News, Duke English professor Marianna Torgovnick states “It’s not that Americans don’t know that the United States remains the only nation ever to have used atomic weapons against civilian populations.” Notice the careful qualification: “ATOMIC weapons against a civilian population.”

In reality weapons had been used routinely on civilian populations in Britain, Germany and even Japan. In months prior to dropping the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, killing some 140,000 people outright, the United States had firebombed Tokyo, killing 150,000 civilians. Of course, such devastation took two nights rather than one morning, but the end result was the much the same. Similarly, European cities (e.g. Dresden, London) were bombed killing tens of thousands of civilians.

One can surely argue that these instances were morally wrong and inhumane, but why single out Hiroshima or Nagasaki just because the bombs released on those cities did in 10 minutes what conventional bombs would need perhaps a couple of nights to do? When the end result of civilian deaths is the same, why does the instrument of those deaths matter?

I think the guilt that Americans are told to feel about Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the illogical attacks from moralists and ethicist who conveniently neglect the civilians deaths under other, less atomic, circumstances, is a product not of the act but of the bombs themselves. The nuclear bomb changed the way America and world does politics. It is the ultimate trump card. Today these bombs can yield so much energy that they can eradicate whole societies—not just cities.

Hiroshima and Nagasaki are ghosts that continue to haunt us not because they happened, but because they could happen again.