St Louis the King (August 25) and Other Items of Passing

Funny how St Louis the King's feast day is this Friday. A king who truly knew how to rule and lead, from prayer to family to being a warrior (not that he didn't have his days). As a prominent Franciscan Tertiary, as they were known then, he is the patron, along with Elizabeth of Hungary, of the SFO.

St Louis has been in my mind for a week now, after a mood-darkening tour through a place appropriately called "Relics." At least they had that straight.... anyhow, I'd been passing this place on Camelback for a long while now, and after taking care of some business, I had time to wander in. I thought it would be just another Scottsdale/North Phoenix trendy crap place.

Boy, was I wrong.

I walked in, and initially it was a rustic wood table, an old French olive oil clay jar, things of that nature. Then my eye was caught by a glass case--I walked closer to find a very old carved wood saint of Spanish origin, probably 1700s or so if not earlier, along with other very old figurines and such from some church. Then the window caught my attention.

There was dear St Louis the King, a gorgeous stained glass window ripped intact from some church in France, frame and all. Next to it was, if I remember correctly, the patron saint of Rouen (the name escapes me now). It was in the same style and similar frame, although this window didn't survive the years as well. This priceless, irreplaceable artwork in some crappy antique shop!

As I turned back to the case thoughtfully, a monstrance on the glass case of the checkout area almost made me ill. What is *that* doing here? A beautiful gold monstrance with blue enamel workings, sitting in its obviously native reliquary arch--ripped intact from whatever wall it had been in.

As I continued through this place, I shivered to the bone--ironwork crosses, bannisters, and accents, all of the same style and time period, cannibalized by some hunter. There was an entire wood panel that included the confessional door, which had been incorrectly identified ... things of this nature that gave me the eerie sense of history raped for profit.

I'm not really that sentimental, but as I continued on I had the feeling that Jesus was weeping, saying "look what they have done to My Church!" All the religious that had been at this French church, monastery or convent over the hundreds of years (many tags placed the dates in the XVI-XVII centuries) must have been looking on sorrowfully as the place to which they had dedicated their lives was ripped apart. I could smell, feel, know that history in all that iron and wood, destroyed in the name of profit and secularism.

By the time I left, I was upset. Oh, if I only had the money to purchase the window, the monstrance, and various other religious items, and save them from being some ignorant person's "decor"... My heart was so sore, and I joined in weeping with Jesus.

What sacrilege.

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My boss is active in the Right to Life movement. Sometimes, I prepare his newsletters, announcements and replies to the editor. I was working on one of the latter today.

It's such an explosive topic that even as he merely sought to straighten the record in a local paper, emotional and provoking phrases rang out from the screen I was typing them on to.

I had no idea that an endorsement from Right to Life for a candidate was so coveted to the point that candidates will twist the truth to bend the voters. Not that I'm surprised--I grew up around party politics--but the gubenatorial primary promises to be somewhat inflammatory.

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I hate it when a choir mangles a song.

Even if you're not an advocate of post Vatican II music, I think "The Cry of the Poor" by John Foley, SJ, will move you. As a part of that oft-mentioned awesome choir I had been a part of, we had done this piece often. Four part harmony with the organ only undertoning with the old church's acoustics, it was quite haunting. It's a tune that will stick in your head in a good way.

It's supposed to be in a moderate tempo, which we had slightly slowed at places for effect--I believe the Italian musical term is fine. This past Sunday I went to 8:30 choir in New Parish at which they have the contemporary choir, which has a 50/50 chance of getting on my nerves. For Communion, they did "The Cry of the Poor," dragging out the refrain to the point were every beat was almost two seconds each. Then, to brighten our day, they turned the verses into a pop beat. Not the 'slightly faster' that I'm looking at in my copy of Choral Praise as I write this, but a full out, almost Harry Connick fast jazz beat kind of pace.

Oh yes, they did that. All the way through. Refrain dragging and the verses popping. I was astonished.

No matter that they were in tune... with the clarinet bleating and the drums whapping, it totally destroyed the aura that this piece is supposed to create.

I will skip out on 8:30 from here on out. It's 7:00 am, or 12:30 when it recommences in October, at New Parish or 9:00 am at Old Parish, tho the thought of Fr Hollywood letting his ego shine kills me too--but he does have wonderful taste in music.

I had a hard time explaining to TJ about being a "music snob."

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I'm now entering a fearful phase in the race to conceive before I turn forty. It's too new, too raw to write about it at this time, but I will at some future date.

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Pray for my dear friend Terri DeMuro, who has been very ill.