Showing posts with label Easter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Easter. Show all posts

Thursday, March 29, 2018

3 Chords & the Truth: Time to just . . . be

As we sit here in the thick of Holy Week, we sit here in darkness.

We dread what is to come, yet we know this present darkness will give way to a great light.

This week on 3 Chords & the Truth, we find ourselves in something like limbo. We need to just . . . be. We need to contemplate some things.

Not to put too fine a point on it, we need to chill.

NOT TO put too fine a point on it, that's exactly what the Big Show is all about this week -- this holiest and most solemn of weeks on the Christian calendar. This week, the music asks us what time it is.

The music invites us to sit, to think . . . to just be.

And we will. We are. We invite you to, too.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

Monday, April 10, 2017

Dude tried to make Jesus a fool. Just made hip-hop uncool.

There are worse things than the Dinner Theater for Jesus ditties of Marty Haugen. You have to go to THIS extreme to get there, but get there you can.

The only thing I can say for this is "Rayvon" didn't call himself a "Jesus Wigga." But with this level of stereotypical idiocy, I'm not sure it would have been any more offensive if he had.

Not heard in the video: God, Jesus, Resurrection, Crucifixion, Sacrifice, Grace, Passover, Redemption, Christ, Christian, Sin, Forgiveness, Heaven, Hell, Life, Death or Love.

He can't even bring himself to utter the word "church." That's just as well.

His bling, however, runneth over.

This could be the only church (or at least the only one in Bel Air, Maryland) where you walk in as Homer Simpson and walk out as Beavis or Butthead (maybe both) -- followers, no doubt, of a feckless deity seemingly more ridiculous than yourself.

THE GREAT Southern (and Catholic) writer Flannery O'Connor once said that a God you understand is less than oneself. I fear that any God -- or, more accurately, god -- that "Rayvon" proclaims as his Primo Playa logically would be forced to damn himself to hell.

What a thing to achieve in the name of relevance but not necessarily righteousness -- a "gathering" of goddamn fools in the "swagtacula" name of a damn-fool god.

I think the term for insipidness such as this is "abomination of desolation." That's in the Bible . . . another thing, come of think of it, carefully avoided in da Gozpulshizzle uh Rayvon.

Which has managed to turn Jesus Christ -- He of "seeker-friendly" implicizzle but not revelizzle -- into something seemingly even tackier than Donald Trump.

Let the congregation say "Oy veh!" Or "Anathema sit." Whichever.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

3 Chords & the Truth: Awaiting hope

We've all been crucified, and we all need a resurrection, don't we?

Outside, we want people to think we're Disneyland. Inside, we're an abandoned warehouse district. You probably don't want to know what's inside the warehouse now.

It's coming up on Holy Week, the most stark, dark, horrifying and awe-inspiring week on the Christian calendar. That's the context of this week's episode of 3 Chords & the Truth.

WE ALL get crucified. We're all as good as dead. We all need a resurrection. Or a Resurrection . . . which is where this week leads. And we're exploring the subject, in a manner of speaking, on the Big Show.

It's something to think about. Music to reflect by. Time to put on the brakes and consider the point of the journey.

Maybe this edition of 3 Chords & the Truth will succeed in that and still manage to be plenty entertaining. Maybe not . . . but my money's on entertaining. Trust me -- I once worked in Catholic radio. If nothing else, I've learned how not to do this stuff.

SO JOIN ME this week in stopping, listening and considering. And have a blessed Holy Week and a joyous Easter.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

Sunday, April 08, 2012

No Peeps. Birdies.

I found this old golf ball three-quarters buried in the front yard next to our house, and I thought of the things we usually hide on the lawn this time of year.

Obviously, this one hadn't been found for a long time. That's because Arnold Palmer is the best -- and sneakiest -- Easter bunny ever.

Here's hoping, on this blessed day of our risen Lord, that you hung your Easter baskets on the mantle with care . . . and left a pitcher of tea, a pitcher of lemonade and a bucket of ice on the kitchen table for a late-night visitor with a sweet swing and a wicked short game.

Happy Easter, all.

Monday, April 05, 2010

Would you like a snake with your Riesling?

When you're out of Schlitz, it's time to switch to the dry Riesling.

If you can find it.

Over on Beliefnet a while back, Rod Dreher notably recounted his struggles with the Pennsylvania state liquor collective in finding a simple bottle of dry Riesling. After much abuse from some uncultured gourmands whose idea of a dry wine is letting the Mogen David go a little vinegary, the poor man allegedly broke several state laws by sneaking across the border to New Jersey and purchasing illicit, yet suitably dry, hooch.

Sunday, Rod blogged about his Easter triumph. Or, at least, the triumph of the anonymous bootlegger who found dry Riesling across the Maginot Line and smuggled it back through the Quaker State defenses . . . thus sending Mr. Dreher into dipsomaniacal reverie.

I'm talking about you, E. Bunny -- if that's your real name.

NOW, I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no piquant bouquets, or sniffin' no corks, or subtle fruitiness vs. Electric Kool-Aid Acid Tests, but I do OK when it comes to sucking the stuff down. Because when you're out of Schlitz, you're out of beer. And when you're out of beer, that means it's time to switch to wine.

All of this gets me to Sunday. Mrs. Favog and I went over to some dear friends' house for Easter dinner, where before eating, the four of us killed off a bottle of a rather excellent dry Riesling.

Not even a slight hint of that certain . . . oh, je ne sais quoi . . . Formula 44 cachet. Or Boone's Farm, either.

Do you know what our friend Laura went through to get that dry Riesling? She had to go all the way to the neighborhood Hy-Vee supermarket. And there, in the wine section . . . voila!

OF COURSE, she had to call on pretty advanced sommelier-type skills. We're talkin' mad skillz going beyond the training of your average Pennsylvania ABC store manager -- she looked at the label, keeping her eyes peeled for the telltale clue that you've stumbled upon a truly dry Riesling.

And there it was. The words "Dry Riesling."

When she stopped laughing hysterically, there standing in the Hy-Vee wine aisle -- she had read Rod's account of his disastrous encounter with socialized liquor -- she bought it. And we drank it.

It was dry. And that was good.

Flyover country, my ass.

NOW, WHAT WITH all the drankin' that had been goin' on during this Easter feast (and a feast it was), I lost my head and began to lapse into my native Louisiana patois, which makes somewhat less sense to the Midwestern ear than, say, Boomhauer on King of the Hill.

As we all watched The Sound of Music -- Mrs. Favog's favorite movie ever (ask her about the time she met Julie Andrews) -- for the 4.327th time, one of the characters noted that a previous governess had gotten a snake put in her clothes, as opposed to Maria merely getting pranked with a frog.

"They ain't nothin' wrong with a snake," I remarked, using the proper pronunciation of "sneck."

At which point Laura got up, went to the freezer, pulled out an ice cream cake and dished it up.

She thought I said "There's nothing wrong with a snack." Which there wasn't. Nothing a-tall.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

The Resurrection, brought to you by. . . .

"Not to be forgotten, certainly, in the celebration of Easter '58 is the religious significance of this holiday. In keeping with Easter's serious meaning. . . ."

NO, WE CERTAINLY wouldn't want to forget that, now, would we? But first, this message from Willoughby's, the world's largest camera store in the heart of America's greatest shopping center.

Because we've had our priorities straight in this country for a long, long time. At least since this Easter Sunday extravaganza on WABD, Channel 5 in New York, circa 1958.

Let's try to do better this year, shall we?

Saturday, March 22, 2008

He is risen! He is risen, indeed!

Chapter 28

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb.
And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, approached, rolled back the stone, and sat upon it.
His appearance was like lightning and his clothing was white as snow.
The guards were shaken with fear of him and became like dead men.
Then the angel said to the women in reply, "Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified.
He is not here, for he has been raised just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay.
Then go quickly and tell his disciples, 'He has been raised from the dead, and he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him.' Behold, I have told you."
Then they went away quickly from the tomb, fearful yet overjoyed, and ran to announce this to his disciples.
And behold, Jesus met them on their way and greeted them. They approached, embraced his feet, and did him homage.
Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me."
While they were going, some of the guard went into the city and told the chief priests all that had happened.
They assembled with the elders and took counsel; then they gave a large sum of money to the soldiers,
telling them, "You are to say, 'His disciples came by night and stole him while we were asleep.'
And if this gets to the ears of the governor, we will satisfy (him) and keep you out of trouble."
The soldiers took the money and did as they were instructed. And this story has circulated among the Jews to the present (day).
The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them.
When they saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted.
Then Jesus approached and said to them, "All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me.
Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit,
teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age."

Friday, March 21, 2008

Psalm 22 . . . a prophecy of the Passion

EDITOR'S NOTE: A psalm for today, Good Friday, when we commemorate our crucified Savior. Have a blessed end to Holy Week.

To the chief Musician upon Aijeleth Shahar, A Psalm of David.

1 My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?* why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?
2 O my God, I cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not; and in the night season, and am not silent.
3 But thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel.
4 Our fathers trusted in thee: they trusted, and thou didst deliver them.
5 They cried unto thee, and were delivered: they trusted in thee, and were not confounded.
6 But I am a worm, and no man; a reproach of men, and despised of the people.
7 All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out the lip, they shake the head saying,
8 He trusted on the LORD that he would deliver him: let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him.
9 But thou art he that took me out of the womb: thou didst make me hope when I was upon my mother’s breasts.
10 I was cast upon thee from the womb: thou art my God from my mother’s belly.
11 Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for there is none to help.
12 Many bulls have compassed me: strong bulls of Bashan have beset me round.
13 They gaped upon me with their mouths, as a ravening and a roaring lion.
14 I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint: my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels.
15 My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death.
16 For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have inclosed me: they pierced my hands and my feet.
17 I may tell all my bones: they look and stare upon me.
18 They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture.
19 But be not thou far from me, O LORD: O my strength, haste thee to help me.
20 Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog.
21 Save me from the lion’s mouth: for thou hast heard me from the horns of the unicorns.
22 I will declare thy name unto my brethren: in the midst of the congregation will I praise thee.
23 Ye that fear the LORD, praise him; all ye the seed of Jacob, glorify him; and fear him, all ye the seed of Israel.
24 For he hath not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted; neither hath he hid his face from him; but when he cried unto him, he heard.
25 My praise shall be of thee in the great congregation: I will pay my vows before them that fear him.
26 The meek shall eat and be satisfied: they shall praise the LORD that seek him: your heart shall live for ever.
27 All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the LORD: and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee.
28 For the kingdom is the LORD’S: and he is the governor among the nations.
29 All they that be fat upon earth shall eat and worship: all they that go down to the dust shall bow before him: and none can keep alive his own soul.
30 A seed shall serve him; it shall be accounted to the Lord for a generation.
31 They shall come, and shall declare his righteousness unto a people that shall be born, that he hath done this.

* See Matthew 27:46