Edmund

Beyt El

I had lunch with the Pentecostal pastor a few days ago. In our conversation, I told him that I’m quite disturbed that most Pentecostal churches are called “Bethel.” Bethel, I pointed out, was a place of abomination, where the golden calves were worshiped. He assured me that their churches are named after the meaning of the name—“House of God”—and not after the place. Good.

Nuts

#83. La Tête contre les murs (Head Against the Wall). Directed by Georges Franju. France, 1959. 1.37:1. Black and White. 93 minutes. French.

In the film, a delinquent young man is confined by his father in a psychiatric institution. I was really looking forward to seeing this one for the very first time, because it’s by Georges Franju, the director of the unforgettable Judex. But Judex it is not. Though the cinematography is beautiful and though the soundtrack is by Maurice Jarre, the film is very slow and talky and quite self-indulgent. And, believe you me, I can handle slow and talky films.

I’m singing the body electric! In a totally unrelated development . . . the unnecessary and ugly remake of Fame flopped massively at the box office. Good. Moral: Never tamper with the classics.

Censoring David

This happened a few years ago. It was a lazy morning, and I was struggling to stay awake during Mass. The First Reading was from 1 Samuel, the 24th chapter. G read, as my eyelids were closing:

When Saul returned from following the Philistines, he was told, “David is in the wilderness of En-gedi.” Then Saul took three thousand chosen men out of all Israel, and went to look for David and his men in the direction of the Rocks of the Wild Goats. He came to the sheepfolds beside the road, where there was a cave; and Saul went in to answer the call of nature. . . ”

“The call of nature”! That brought me back to my senses. I mean, I know my scriptures and its distinctive mode of expression. The actual sentence was “Saul went in to relieve himself”! But G has taken it upon himself to censor the reading. I guess he thought that the bit about the king relieving himself was quite inappropriate. Had he chosen to read the passage as is, it would’ve gone unnoticed—I didn’t think anybody was actually listening, in the first place. But the colorful phrase that he substituted for the original wording did paint a very vivid picture that caught everyone’s attention.

That same week or month, I was tasked to say Mass in a certain parish. The first readings at that time were still from the Books of Samuel, featuring still the story of David, and—for that particular day—the seduction of Bathsheba was the theme. The sacristan told me that I should pick another reading, since schoolchildren were present. The reading, the sacristan added, was “inappropriate.” I was livid. I read the reading and, in the homily, explained the lesson of the story in terms that children could understand. Greed leads to trouble. Then I spoke to the adults. I do not believe in censorship—especially when the Word of God is involved. The sex and the violence in the Bible are not there to titillate and to provoke hatred—they are there to teach us lessons, lessons that—if learned well—would lead us to the path of righteousness.

I found myself in the superior’s office that night.

Advent treats

Every year, as Advent approaches, Novalis Canada sends us beautiful samples from Creative Communications for the Parish—prayer cards, Advent booklets, bookmarks, calendars and key tags. Too bad, our parish doesn’t usually order catechetical resources (as we do not have enough financial resources). Anyway, I’m posting their ad here as a token of gratitude for the free stuff:

Order any of these fine (and fun!) faith-building resources by calling Novalis at 1-800-387-7164. These items are available at 20 % off until 15 October. Free shipping for all orders over $100.00 (before taxes).

Reno

Boggs and Allan continue their U.S. tour. They sent these pictures from Reno:

I can’t help tuloy recalling that funny exchange from Sister Act:

SISTER MARY ROBERT [looking at Reno from the helicopter]: It’s beautiful!
SISTER MARY PATRICK: And what a lovely name—Reno!
REVEREND MOTHER: . . . and Gomorrah!

The hell with it!

I’m thoroughly enjoying the new free verse translation of Divina Commedia. I’m now in the Sixth Circle of heretics and sceptics (Canto X) with Dante and his guide Virgil. I find the explanatory notes, maps and diagrams very helpful and useful, but they just couldn’t compare to the vivid engravings of Gustave Doré. So I finally decided to get a nice hardcover edition with the Doré artwork that used to disturb me as an adolescent. I think I can now handle Doré’s vision of how simonists are punished. My new Divine Comedy arrived today:

Hell, 2006. I just discovered another edition of Divine Comedy—a 2006 boxed set adaptation with playful takes on the Doré illustrations. I think this version is set in 21st century U.S.A. Compare and contrast the Doré engraving for the first verse and its re-imagined rendering:

Tempting as it may look, I’m not gonna get it. I’m a purist.

Speaking of hell . . . The Gospel for this coming Sunday mentions hell, a now-politically incorrect word and theological concept. However, the historical Jesus, whose teachings were much influenced by the Pharisees, most definitely believed in hell—or in the notion of punishment in the flames of Ge Hinnom. We cannot simply throw away over two millennia’s worth of biblical, rabbinic and Christian traditions just for the sake of hypocrisy—oh!—I mean, political correctness.

My all-time favorite hellish quote. L’enfer, c’est les autres (Hell is other people). — Jean-Paul Sartre, from Huis Clos (1944)

Eco on handwriting

Back in school, the teacher would periodically collect our notebooks to check them. I was never a good note-taker, so mine would always come back with “Incomplete” marks on them. And what was the gauge for “completeness”? My classmates’ notebooks—my classmates who had to write every jot and tittle that the teacher scribbled on the blackboard! Wasn’t it enough that I’ve listened to the lecture very well by absorbing it? But still I envied my classmates for their neat notebooks—and neat handwriting.

I’ve always been unsatisfied with my own handwriting. I really think it’s ugly, and I think it got uglier through time—thanks to the advent of the laptop and my ever-increasing dependence on it. I don’t use notebooks anymore and I seldom write in longhand.

Umberto Eco recently lamented the death of the art of handwriting in an article. He blames the ballpoint pen. Read it here.

BTW . . . Speaking of notebooks and pens, people who are aware of my Hannah Montana complex gave me a set of Hannah notebooks and a “singing” Hannah pen when school opened earlier this month. They were very much appreciated, but I still haven’t used them.

The bewitchin’ era

I don’t normally watch The Oprah Show, but I really didn’t leave the house today just to catch Jon Hamm and January Jones—Mr. and Mrs. Don Draper to Mad Men fanatics like myself—in the special episode about the ’60s. I enjoyed Oprah’s favorite things from the decade, and it was nice to see Beaver in the audience. However, Bewitched was never mentioned!

Pleasure

I’m still searching for a nice hardcover English edition of the complete short stories of Guy de Maupassant. The ones that are available are usually in paperback, incomplete and riddled with typos. The de Maupassant I own is from Penguin Classics, A Parisian Affair and Other Stories, which consists of 34 tales. I think it’s the only passable de Maupassant anthology around.

The collection, however, doesn’t include Le masque (The Mask), La maison Tellier (The Tellier Establishment) and Le modèle (The Model)—the three stories that comprise Le plaisir, that beautiful, beautiful Max Ophüls film from 1952. I’m particularly fond of La maison Tellier (both the short story and Le plaisir segment)—it’s the humorous and touching story of prostitutes taking a day off to attend the First Communion of their madam’s niece. The scene in the church is really moving.

I was alone and it was late in the night when I first saw Le plaisir many years ago. The film opens with a dark screen and we hear the voice of the narrator (Jean Marais speaking as Guy de Maupassant): “I’m so happy to be talking in the dark as if I were beside you—and maybe I am.” I shrieked in terror.

Classics for fashionistas

Though I already own copies of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (I have all of her novels), Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights (from the Folio Society) and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, I just couldn’t resist getting the new Penguin Classics Deluxe Editions of the three classics. The covers, designed by fashion illustrator Ruben Toledo, breathe some kind of fresh spirit into these three magna opera, which remain new and relevant as when they were first published over a hundred years ago. I particularly adore Toledo’s manga-like rendering of Catherine, but his silhouette of Darcy looks quite menacing.

There’s no need to re-read Pride and Prejudice (which I practically know by heart) and Wuthering Heights, but I think I’ll be re-reading The Scarlet Letter. My last decent encounter with the actual novel happened in 1988, during my fourth year in High School, when I wrote a book report on it. I emphasized the word “decent” in the previous sentence because I did see that awful, awful film “version” starring Demi Moore in 1995.