Monsignor

Since I moved in May, I've been attending St. Thomas the Apostle Parish, which is just a few blocks from my new apartment. Its clergy are Oratorians, a group of professed religious who take a vow to exercise their ministry in a certain specific place. The Washington Oratory, which is St. Thomas, is quite young and is still technically an Oratory-in-formation. In this early stage, the local clergy are being assisted by Monsignor Wadsworth, a British priest of some renown.

Today I almost ran into Monsignor. I had just gotten off the escalator at the Metro. I had just received a text apiece from two friends I had not heard from in many months -- Isn't it funny how that happens sometimes? I was walking on the sidewalk along Connecticut Avenue, clogged with slow-walking tourists most days, but especially this week in anticipation of the Fourth of July. I dodge a stroller, look down at my phone, look up and find myself staring into the eyes of Monsignor Wadsworth, not more than a foot in front of me.

He's a kind man with a gentle demeanor. He gives pointed, but well-considered homilies, with their share of one-liners:

"Not much in our world is imperishable. I think Our Lord asks more of us than a can of tomato soup." (on the imperishability of the soul)

"Our dear Cardinal, a good friend and a lovely man, has not yet realized that the New Evangelization is the same as the old evangelization" (on Cardinal Wuerl)

"The message is the same. God does not change. The message does not change. If you came to church last Sunday, last month, last year, five years ago, ten years ago, fifty years ago, the message is the same. I doubt many of you would've been at mass one hundred years ago -- those people come on Sunday mornings." (on the perennial nature of the Gospel)

"We need to learn the language of heaven. If you go to another country, it helps to learn a language rather than just talking LOUDLY and slowly like we English speakers tend to do. I've been here for six years and I'm still learning the language." (on American English)

"St. Philip [Neri] was often asked what authors to read. He suggested - and I suggest to you - authors whose names begin with the letter S... Saint..." (on what to read)

I managed a "Good evening, Father!" before stepping out of the poor man's way. He was with the parish priest and the novice who recently took his first vows. They were wearing the distinctive cassock and collar of the Oratory. It is always nice to see clergy dressed like clergy while out and about. I saw one priest this weekend in the National Gallery of Art in a cassock.

In the final analysis, a near run-in with Monsignor was not nearly as embarrassing as when I sneezed on the Bishop of Lafayette-in-Indiana.

Purple mountain majesties

Two weekends ago I went hiking with two friends in the mountains of Virginia. Our itinerary of three days brought us to the peaks of several mountains, along a portion of the Appalachian Trail, and many fine views of the mountains of the George Washington National Forest. A few photos follow, in no particular order:

Though I've had a backpacking pack for a year and a half, this was the first time I've used it for anything apart from a carry-on. REI separated me from a good chunk of my first paycheck, but I'm happy to now have the rudiments for future backpacking trips. My friend who planned the trip is very experienced in backpacking, so it was good to learn from her as well. Hopefully there will be more adventures of this type ahead!

Freedom

"Look at the worldly and at the whole world that exalts itself above the people of God: are the image of God and his truth not distorted in it? They have science, and in science only that which is subject to the senses. But the spiritual world, the higher half of man's being, is altogether rejected, banished with a sort of triumph, even with hatred. The world has proclaimed freedom, especially of late, but what do we see in this freedom of theirs: only slavery and suicide! For the world says: "You have needs, therefore satisfy them, for you have the same rights as the nobles and richest men. Do not be afraid to satisfy them, but even increase them" -- this is the current teaching of the world. And in this they see freedom. But what comes of this right to increase one's needs? For the rich, isolation and spiritual suicide; for the poor, envy and murder, for they have been given rights, but have not yet been shown any way of satisfying their needs. We are assured that the world is becoming more and more united, is being formed into brotherly communion, by the shortening of distances, by the transmitting of thoughts through the air. Alas, do not believe in such a union of people. Taking freedom to mean the increase and prompt satisfaction of needs, they distort their own nature, for they generate many meaningless and foolish desires, habits, and the most absurd fancies in themselves."

--- from The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky (1880)

Moving on up

This weekend, if all goes well, I will be moving to a new apartment in DC. I'm terribly excited to be heading to a different neighborhood. Where I am now has been good, but it comes with its share of annoyances: thirty minute bus rides to the grocery store, a twenty minute walk to the metro, no neighborhood conveniences (stores, etc.) to speak of, no air conditioning, and lots of bike-inhibiting hills in the neighborhood. None of these has made it a bad place to live, per se, but I'm not going to miss these issues. I'll be moving to a basement unit in a townhouse in the historic Kalorama Triangle in the northwest part of the city. The location alone makes the slight increase in rental costs worth it: a four minute walk to the metro, five minutes to the grocery store, and tons of restaurants, bars, and shops close by. Also, my commute to work will be cut in half.

New neighborhood

This has gotten me thinking about urban planning and walkability. My new neighborhood will be extremely walkable. Errands will be able to be done on foot, and leisure (in the form of park space) is only a few blocks away. Kalorama is known as one of the more well-to-do areas of Washington, and neighboring Adams Morgan was named one of the best urban neighborhoods in the United States. Though we have found a really good deal, rent is generally not cheap. This begs the question: why have our most walkable and convenient neighborhoods so priced out the poor, who would benefit most from easy proximity to the necessities of life? We can go back and forth about gentrification, but it somewhat misses the point of the issue. We may not force people out of every neighborhood wanting to be the new Brooklyn, simply because we've already condemned the people there to a poor quality of life by the very design of the city. If it's an annoyance for me, a decently-well-off young person with a professional job, nearly two college degrees, and a decent amount of leisure time, to go grocery shopping, how much more is it a strain on a single mother raising two kids and working two jobs? There's plenty of blame to go around for this state of affairs, and there are frankly very few easy solutions.

Kriol

"Orait, longtaim bifo enijing bin jidan, det Wed bin jidan, en det Wed bin jidan garram God, en det Wed na im God. Wal brom longtaim det Wed bin jidan garram God, God bin meigim ebrijing garram det Wed. Im nomo bin meigim enijing nomo garram det Wed, det Wed na bin abum det pawa blanga gibitbat laif, en det laif na bin det lait blanga ebribodi, det lait oldei shain langa det dakbala, en det dakbala kaan neba audim det lait."

--- John 1:1-5

This well-known scriptural passage is rendered here in Kriol, an English-based creole language spoken by many Australian Aboriginal peoples in the Northern Territory. Creole languages are fascinating to me because they rely so much on actually speaking the words, as the language being creolized is often not a written one. In the first sentence we read "longtaim bifo enijing bin jidan" which looks pretty foreign until you speak it aloud and realize it's "longtime before anything [was made?]". It's not exactly "in the beginning" but you get the drift. I once saw some Haitian Creole (which is based on French) written someplace. It was amusing to me because the French-derived words were actually written like they are pronounced (ça as sa, qui as ki, dite as di, etc.). I didn't understand what I was reading until I tried reading it aloud to myself.   

On accents

Isn't it interesting that English lacks any accents or other diacritical marks? I can think of no other language off the top of my head where this is the case, apart from Latin. As English is a hodgepodge of various languages, one would think that some of the diacritical marks of French or of the Norse languages would've survived. Middle English still used some of the old Norse letters like ð, æ, and þ, for instance (these are preserved in modern Icelandic). Perhaps accents would make English easier to learn for non-native speakers? But then again, sometimes spelling is so disconnected from pronunciation that this may be impossible. It would be difficult to explain the difference in pronunciation of "cough" and "through", for example, with the mere addition of a diacritical mark or two.

I am in the midst of reading Empires of the Word: A Language History of the World. The subject of language has always fascinated me, especially when it comes to the evolution of sounds and words. Last night, I was at a friend's 25th birthday party. Several of us were talking about how we are getting to the point of "not understanding kids these days." We were discussing the use of the expression "on fleek" which has apparently arisen recently. Synonyms include "on point". We decided it sounds far better if one pretends it was a French phrase. Thus, en flique, was added to the modern lexicon. Nous etions en flique hier soir...

To stroll is Parisian

I was going through some photos yesterday. This one is from my second day in Paris, which I remember vividly. On my first day, I rushed right down to Notre Dame, but on day two I had no real itinerary. I wandered down to the Place de République and then zig-zagged through the Third Arrondissement. I stuck my head into Saint-Elizabeth, the Parisian parish of the Order of Malta. At a cafe across the street from the church, a car backed into a pole, causing a commotion. From there, I got all turned around and ended up in the neighborhood of Charlie Hebdo. After a stop in the Place des Vosges, the sky turned turbulent, and I took refuge from the rain in the church of Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis in the Marais. There was a clearing and I continued on to the Seine and crossed over to the Ile Saint-Louis. It was from the bridge that this shot was taken.

My favorite part about Paris, which has become clearer in retrospect, is the delight it gives to walkers. The texture of the city is so uniformly interesting, that one can just keep going from place to place without noticing. There is such a strong continuity of experience. "To err is human, to stroll is Parisian," as Victor Hugo said. I think Washington is a good walking city as well, though it is not as uniform as Paris.

The Octave of Easter

Happy Easter, all! I'm back in DC, and things have been hectic in the aftermath of the Easter recess. This coming weekend the school of architecture is undergoing its accreditation visit from NAAB - a process that happens typically every six years. Suffice to say it is a big deal and it's an all-hands-on-deck situation. My professor, Julio, is largely spearheading the organization of the visit. I am his research assistant, which means I have been busy assisting him in whatever ways I can. The week has included a lot of lifting and moving models, pinning up student work, and making the building look good. Our main efforts have been focused on the team room, where the accreditation team will do their deliberations. The room is full of a range of student work from each and every class offered in the school. The work is tagged and color coded according to a matrix of educational criteria established by NAAB. It has been an exercise in tedium.

*     *     *

On Wednesday, Julio took a brief break from the madness of accreditation to deliver a lecture introducing a book that has just been published that he edited and assembled. The book contains a series of essays from a wide range of authors on contemporary views of sacred space. The diversity of the contributors is perhaps the strongest aspect of the book: from Duncan Stroik, one of the leaders of the current resurgence of traditional Catholic architecture, to Juhani Pallasmaa, a Finnish architect enamored of an architecture of all five senses, the variety of views makes the book enriching. I have not read all of it yet, but I will have to report back with my final thoughts. Julio spoke honestly and quite personally about the book - his first of his long and distinguished career - and there was a nice gathering afterward where he sold and signed the books. He wrote me a very kind inscription in my copy, which I will treasure.

*     *     *

The cherry blossoms have begun to bloom in earnest. Unfortunately, the weather remains cold. I think, even if it is nice this weekend, I will be too tired to get out and enjoy the beauty of spring because I am so exhausted from this week.

*     *     *

My job search is continuing in the midst of it all. I am looking for something permanent that will allow me to transition from summer work to part-time work in the fall as I finish my thesis, and then on to full-time afterward. Several firms have indicated their willingness to work with me to do this (it's quite common). I ask St. Joseph and St. Juan Diego for their intercession in this matter.

 *     *     *

I got coffee with Julio today and he made a comment that stuck in my mind. He was saying how problems grow with your age, but you always have little problems too. You think, "Well, when I graduate, I will be able to relax. When I have a job, I will be ok. When I am promoted, I will be happy." But really, it never ends. "And when you retire, you think about death I guess," he said with a smile. He said he has had to come to terms with each 'incarnation' of himself separately. I feel I have done the same. Ball State Matt is not the same as CUA Matt. I am not naive - part of growing is adapting to new problems and circumstances. But, it was just nice to hear someone I admire be a bit vulnerable about his own journey. It was reassuring. 

*     *     *

There are a lot of rumors flying around campus right now. I really don't like rumors. It is hard to resist dwelling on them or passing them along. I see rumors as perverted religious impulse. We crave the unknown. When we spread a rumor, we pass along our belief in something that may not be provable. The difference, of course, is that religion (Catholicism, more specifically) is based in truth. Rumors may be either true or false. I have been working on keeping my mouth shut more. I don't want to be complicit in spreading falsehoods, even if I think they may be true. It is better left unsaid until the truth is discovered.

Good Friday

"There flowed from his side water and blood. Beloved, do not pass over this mystery without thought; it has yet another hidden meaning, which I will explain to you. I said that water and blood symbolized baptism and the holy eucharist. From these two sacraments the Church is born: from baptism, the cleansing water that gives rebirth and renewal through the Holy Spirit, and from the holy eucharist. Since the symbols of baptism and the eucharist flowed from his side, it was from his side that Christ fashioned the Church, as he had fashioned Eve from the side of Adam. Moses gives a hint of this when he tells the story of the first man and makes him exclaim: Bone from my bones and flesh from my flesh! As God then took a rib from Adam’s side to fashion a woman, so Christ has given us blood and water from his side to fashion the Church. God took the rib when Adam was in a deep sleep, and in the same way Christ gave us the blood and the water after his own death."

--- St. John Chrysostom, from The Catechesis

Home for Holy Week

I am at home for a few days for Easter. This is the first time I've been home for Easter with my family for many, many years. At Ball State, we had no time off for Easter (indeed, many of our studio deadlines seemed to fall on Good Friday) so my family would come down to Muncie for the weekend.

Yesterday, I arrived home and spent much of the afternoon napping. Last night after dinner, I went with my parents for a drive out to the lake. It was the first time in a few years that I'd been to Grand Haven. We parked and walked along the riverfront out to the pier. It was sunny and mild, but as we reached the lake, it got windier and colder. There was still a lot of ice on the pier and on the beach side of the pier. The wind blowing across the ice made it pretty chilly. Still, it was nice to walk around and enjoy the sunlight and the beautiful sunset. We met an old man on the pier who appeared to be a local photographer. He was eager to tell us how much ice has melted in the past week (and how it compares to last year at this time, and sundry other factoids). Later, we joked that that would be my dad in retirement because he likes to strike up random conversations with strangers. We drove back to Grand Rapids and got ice cream with my little sister from the ice cream stand where I used to work. It was in the 60s even that late in the evening.

Grand Haven beach

Along the pier

"crazy people"

The snow fences are still up

Sunset

Pier

Today the rain was torrential. I went to the bank and paid off a loan I had taken to go to Paris. It was a nice feeling to have that taken care of. The teller was surprised when I asked for my balance to pay in its entirety. She said, "Like, the whole thing? We don't get too many people wanting to pay off the whole thing! Good for you!" I don't like the idea of being in debt. I read Independent People by Halldór Laxness last fall, and the plot centers on a character who has worked for eighteen years to be free of debt and has been overtaken with an extreme aversion to being indebted to anyone - even to the point of refusing charity. His quest for "independence" is exaggerated to point out its faults. But that was in rural Iceland in the early 20th Century. One was in debt to one's neighbors, not to vast banking conglomerates.