My ol’ pal, Roxanne, found my Monster Magnet. (Well, sorta.)
Add the word “monster” to just about anything, and it suddenly becomes cool—“No, it’s MONSTER broccoli,” “But these are your MONSTER church slacks,” “Are you ready for MONSTER long division?”—but it helps if the thing is already pretty cool to begin with. Such was the case with Wham-O’s 1964 monsterpiece, the Monster Magnet, which fused the power of the monster with the power of magnetic energy …
My interview with Come Receive the Light is available today and, I believe, this whole week by clicking their site (in the margin).
I bumped into a couple comments about my book, One Flew Over the Onion Dome (also available in the margin), recently on the Net:
I‘ve just finished reading “One Flew Over the Onion Dome- American Orthodox Converts, Retreads & Reverts” by Fr. Joseph David Huneycutt.
I found it hilarious, but that’s not the only reason why I am recommending it. I found it an insightful book which would be of benefit not only to clergy but both “converts” and “cradles” as a first step toward understanding each other. The book also points out some of the pitfalls both “converts” and “cradles” fall into, and how to manage them.
— Comment found on an e-list
Our Orthodox faith is drawing the spiritually seeking people of this nation. This is a trend that will only increase. It isn’t going away and it isn’t something we will be able to stop. Thank God! God loves all people and He is drawing men and women to Himself from every ethnic background, even average Americans who really don’t know what their ethnic backgrounds are anyway. Orthodoxy is becoming part of the fabric of America, and we rejoice in this exciting time to be alive and serving His Church.
Still, this growth and influx of converts is going to cause some real trauma for those who are not ready for it. That’s why I hope you’ll order the new book by Fr. Joseph Huneycutt called “One Flew Over the Onion Dome” published by Regina Orthodox Press. In this book, Fr. Huneycutt talks about converts, reverts (Orthodox who’ve left the faith and come back), and retreads (Protestant clergy who have converted and then entered the Orthodox clergy). He does a good job in spurring on the necessary conversation between us “newbies” and the folks who’ve been here all their lives.
Thanks for your support!
To the tune of “Supercalafragalisticexpialadocius” …
Um diddle diddle um diddle ay
Um diddle diddle um diddle ay
Superchristological and Homoousiosis
Even though the sound of them is something quite atrocious
You can always count on them to anathemize your Gnosis
Superchristological and Homoousiosis
Um diddle diddle um diddle ay
Um diddle diddle um diddle ay
Now Origen and Arius were quite a clever pair.
Immutable divinity make Logos out of air.
But then one day Saint Nicholas gave Arius a slap–
and told them if they can’t recant, they ought to shut their trap!
[chorus] Oh, Superchristological and Homoousiosis…
One Prosopon, two Ousia are in one Hypostasis.
At Chalcedon this formula gave our faith its basis.
You can argue that you don’t know what this means,
But don’t you go and try to say there’s a “Physis” in between!
[chorus] Oh, Superchristological and Homoousiosis…
Um diddle diddle um diddle ay
Urn diddle diddle um diddle ay
Now freedom and autonomy are something to be praised,
But when it comes to human sin, these words must be rephrased,
For Pelagius was too confident that we could work it out–
And Augustine said *massa damnata* is what it’s all about.
[chorus] Oh, Superchristological and Homoousiosis…
Heresies are arguments that you might find attractive,
But just remember in this case the Church is quite reactive.
So play it safe and memorize these words we sing together,
‘Cause in the end you’ll find, my friend, that we may live forever.
[chorus] Oh, Superchristological and Homoousiosis
Even though the sound of them is something quite atrocious
You can always count on them to anathemize your Gnosis
Superchristological and Homoousiosis
Lyrics by Dan Idzikowski
Sort of like Ten Little Indians …
Ten Little Orthodox came to church all the time;
One fell out with the priest, then there were nine.
Nine Little Orthodox stayed up late;
One overslept on Sunday, then there were eight.
Eight Little Orthodox intent on Heaven;
One took the low road, then there were seven.
Seven Little Orthodox, chirping like chicks;
One didn’t like the singing, then there were six.
Six Little Orthodox seemed very much alive;
One took a vacation, then there were five.
Five Little Orthodox pulling for Heaven’s shore;
One stopped to take a rest, then there were four.
Four Little Orthodox each as busy as a bee;
One had his feelings hurt, and then there were three.
Three Little Orthodox couldn’t decide what to do;
One couldn’t have his way, then there were two.
Two Little Orthodox each brought one more;
Now don’t you see, two plus two equals four.
Four Little Orthodox worked early and late;
Each brought one, now there were eight.
Eight Little Orthodox if they double as before;
In just seven Sundays, we have one thousand twenty four.
In this jingle there is a lesson true;
You belong either to the building up, or to the wrecking crew.
Both are available HERE and elsewhere around the Net, though the first one was forwarded to me by Fr John Salem.
Though Orthodox and Catholic Christians may disagree on Tradition, at least they appreciate and, to the best of their ability, understand and adhere to it. Our Protestant brethren? Not so much.
The following passage, from Umberto Eco’s “The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana,” is from the main character who is suffering amnesia. I think it also speaks, in a way, to Tradition:
“Yesterday evening … in the hospital, I was bored, and I started humming a tune to myself. It was automatic, like brushing my teeth … I tried to fugure out how I knew it. I started to sing it again, but once I began thinking about it, the song no longer came of its own accord, and I stopped on a single note. I held it a long time, at least five seconds, as if it were an alarm or a dirge. I no longer knew how to go forward, and I didn’t know how to go forward because I had lost what came before. That’s it, that’s how I am. I’m holding a long note, like a stuck record, and since I can’t remember the opening notes, I can’t finish the song. I wonder what it is I’m supposed to finish, and why. While I was singing without thinking I was actually myself for the duration of the memory, which in that case was what you might call throat memory, with the befores and afters linked together, and I was the complete song, and every time I began it my vocal cords were already preparing to vibrate the sounds to come. I think a pianist works that way, too: even as he plays one note he’s readying his fingers to strike the keys that come next. Without the first notes, we won’t make it to the last ones, we’ll come untuned, and we’ll succeed in getting from start to finish only if we somehow contain the entire song within us. I don’t know the whole song anymore. I’m like … a burning log. The log burns, but it has no awareness of having once been a part of a whole trunk nor any way to find out that it has been, or to know if it caught fire. So it burns up and that’s all. I’m living in pure loss.”
Giambattista “Yambo” Bodoni in Umberto Eco’s “The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana,” pp.36-37.
Eco’s been featured here before.
Bad reporting? No worries, Mollie’s on it. A must read … hit the link above.
