God as the Practical Answer

Life with God is the easiest and most practical choice that man can make...

Thomas Paine wrote that "Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated."  

Yet freedom, once earned, presents a quandary.  Is it possible that modern man has too many choices?  Furthermore, is it possible that he does not have the necessary spiritual formation to help him sort through the dizzying myriad of possibility before him?

Centuries after Paine, John Paul the Great said that "freedom consists in doing what we ought."  This is the quintessential truth about how to use our hard-earned freedom, and yet it is meaningless with an absolute reference point.  The freedom which Thomas Paine espoused -- and which John Paull II so perfectly defined -- needs God at its center.  To have any other reference point, be it a political ideal or a single man's will, can only lead to moral and aesthetic anarchy.  Our founding fathers understood this clearly when they used the phrase "we hold these truths to be self-evident."  Without God, nothing is self-evident.


Yet as elegant and clear as this idea is, so many modern men either ignore or outright reject their God.  I recently came across the blog of a former student, now blissfully wandering the world and glorifying hedonism.  Confusing old thoughts and values with recent hippy social disasters, he blissfully sums up his worldview with a quote from the American poet and author, Charles Bukowski:

“I am my own god. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”

One would have to labor greatly to cram so much idiocy into such a short paragraph.  Little wonder that Bukowski led such a shallow and narcissistic life, exemplifying the utilitarian and anti-humanistic despair that his type of "un-religion" was designed to breed.  I say "designed" because the above quote from Bukowski -- and other world-views similar to his -- are not a modern invention.  They come from a far deeper malice and a far more clever deceiver than the average hippy could hope to contend with.  Notice that in Bukowski's own prose, "god" is spelled with a small 'g,' while "Death" becomes a capitalized personality.  Notice the appeal to un-education, as such a worldview requires a mind easily deceived.  Notice the appeal to anti-religion, as such a world-view needs an unformed soul to corrupt. These are not coincidences, considering the spiritual root of such a phrase, as well as the moribund destiny of anybody who would follow such a thought to its inevitable conclusion.

God, in the end, is the impractical practicality.  Belief in him is the only sensible answer.  It brings sense to our lives by giving us understanding of our world.  It explains suffering, giving us a way to use this inevitable pain in a redemptive fashion.  It puts history into an understandable perspective.  It gives us rules by which to live, while presenting an ideal by which no rules will be necessary.  It frees human love to be an infinite gesture.

In short, it provides freedom.  He who seeks to be free must seek to "do as he ought."  In asking what we "ought," there is only one sure place to gain an answer.  There is no alternative path but the role of the aimless wanderer, and he is sure to get nowhere...

God in Every Day, God in Every Moment

With all the doubt-peddlers en-vogue nowadays, it is truly remarkable that the new Atheist Fundamentalists -- and those who oppose them -- rarely bring up the single most persistent reason for having some manner of faith. That reason is personal experience.

Most people, at some point or another in their lives, have a direct personal experience with God. Even more persuasively, we all have regular experiences of normal things which bring with them divine associations. For those who are trying to pay attention to such things, the experience can become a daily one.

While it's a real stretch, one can understand how things such as love, our reaction to music, or interpersonal relationships all somehow relate to a function of evolution. Yet there are things that strike a chord within us which is too deep -- and at the same time, too far-removed -- to be a Darwinian after-effect.

Take our sense of justice, for instance, or our feeling for the "epic." Or poetry (and poetics and the deeper realms of aesthetics.) Or the way that love can transform from simple animal lust into a chosen and deeply edifying interaction of selfless service, edification, and mutual building-up. Certainly, my desire to have a strong character -- and to help others develop strong character -- is a deeper inclination than that which is necessary to propagate the species or even maintain a stable society? Certainly, good character is something which is often a destabilzing social force, yet it is a desire we all have.

Our how about our sense of the epic, or our feeling for justice? Deep within us all, there is a feeling that "things should be better," that our society -- no matter how advanced -- cannot satisfy the deepest yearnings of our heart. Our hearts point the way to something more pure, more expansive, and more personally edifying than any human invention or relationship can provide.

There is loneliness and homesickness; a particular yearning which is experienced even by those people surrounded by family, success, and love. Our hearts know that this is simply not the end of the road, but the beginning. We yearn for more, and when we look deeper, we know that our life -- and the flawed people around us -- cannot provide what we most desire. What would be the Darwinian function of such a desire? Yet we all have it, as is easily witnessed by the myriad of ways we find to try to kill or satisfy this deepest yearning.

Or music and art: if music were merely a biological afterthought, it would do no more than inflame our animal instincts and encourage us to mate (indeed, this is the function of most popular expression.) Yet there were men like Beethoven, men who dared to storm the gates of Heaven with their poetic explosions. We all understand on some level what Beethoven meant, simply because it is reflective of a desire rooted in every human heart.

When we're at the movies, why do we cheer (especially men) when the underdog hero musters his forces and charges his enemy on the field of battle? It is precisely because this is our reality. When you peal back the misleading veneer of the immediate, you see this as every person's great personal struggle. It resonates with us.

Echoes of origin and destiny. These are the inclinations, hunches, and deep-seated feelings which -- the great masters tell us -- can be followed back along their trails to God. The issue is not the existence of God -- it is the fear of how we will be asked to change when we find him.

America, God, and the Necessity of Natural Law

Church and state, so much hate...

Recently in an online debate concerning Prop-8, I suggested -- without stating my own thoughts on the issue -- that both sides, regardless of belief, should examine both prevalent scientific research on the topic, as well as the common-sense conclusions of Natural Law, before agreeing to legislate one way or the other. Two of the numerous vitriolic responses were telling:

"You need to keep your archaic religious beliefs out of this."
--and--
"Take your Natural Law and go live in the forest -- you'll be more comfortable there."

Ouch. But funny, considering -- in the first case -- that I had never brought religion into the issue, and -- in the second case -- that this person clearly did not know what Natural Law is.

It occurs to me that in order to justify the existence of the American experiment, both God and the Natural Law must be assumed as a measuring stick. You are free to be an atheist, of course, but you cannot request that "God be removed from the public sphere" without burning both the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence as well.

The foundation of the American experiment, and the very justification of our revolution, stems from Natural Law. (For those unfamiliar, a reference:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natural_law)

For instance, take the opening sentences of the Declaration of Independence:
hen in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

"Laws of Nature, and Nature's God," you say?

How, in a public debate free of any mention of God, could the resulting relativistic morass agree that any truths are "self-evident?" The answer is simple: they couldn't. Nor would any self-respecting liberal agree that the last sentence above invalidates abortion-on-demand, but that's another debate.

And now we move to the first amendment of the Constitution, which states:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redres of grievances.

The phrase "separation of Church and State" does not appear in the document. Our Founding Fathers assumed that religious belief -- as a key forming element of every educated man's conscience -- would enter into the public debate. This is not to say that Congress should -- or even can -- debate theology. It is to say that the very human dignity which our elected representatives are sworn to uphold and consider cannot be fully justified outside of the theistic realm. End of story. No absolute truth, such as human dignity or freedom, is ultimately possible without an absolute referrant. To see the alternative, I refer you to the "people's" French revolution, or the experiments of 20th century communism.

You are free to believe whatever you want, but you must acknowledge certain basic facts about the American experiment, or become party to its unraveling.

You may not believe in God, or you may not be sure of what you believe... but be glad that other brave men of belief have made your disbelief a safe and legal possibility.

Natural Law is part of the Foundation of America, and we have no right to eliminate her source, nor to pass laws which go contrary to her common-sense dictates.

Don't like it? Move to China and have your relativism.

A Life in Music

What does it mean to live a life in music?

I remember having completed my first year of study on my Masters degree in Composition. I was in a wonderful and supportive environment at the University of Colorado. My teachers were exceptional, my program dedicated, and I had developed the friends and support system to see me through. In truth, my time at Colorado is the standard by which all other academic (and professional) experiences will be measured. Many institutions could learn a great deal from the way CU runs her music program...

Yet I was profoundly unsure of what I was doing. I was exploding with creativity, yet my craft remained weak, and I had felt battered by opposing viewpoints on aesthetics since beginning my undergrad years. Somehow, regardless of intellectual realization, I was unable to accept pure modernism and abstract art on a soul level. My body rejected it like bad food, which left me utterly confused. Something was not right, and I began to doubt whether or not the musical world had a place for me.

As I entered that second year of graduate study, I knew that my resolve -- and my career -- hung in the balance. I sought guidance on the issue, and prayed feverishly for a clear path forward. As always, answers come from unexpected places.

At the end of a long and exhausting week, ready to go home, my friend Trudy asked if I would volunteer at a conference about Nadia Boulanger. She promised great networking opportunities, lunch, and a free concert of sacred music, so I flippantly agreed. The experience would change my life.

In to the U-of-C poured over 200 of Nadia Boulanger's former students, and the school was suddenly awash in a new kind of energy. I met one of Nadia's last students, now teaching in San Fransisco. I met a sweet old nun who studied with her in the 1930's, and was partly responsible for her conversion.

Nadia Boulanger's students, regardless of their religion, were united in the belief that music was a fundamentally important and fundamentally human excercise. They made no apologies for their rejection of much modernism as mere intellectual drivel, and their music -- as well as the force of their personalities -- all testified to the strength of their position.

I learned of Nadia and Lili Boulanger, and how Lili's death silenced Nadia's compositional voice while unleashing her love of pedagogy. I learned of Nadia's influence on over 1200 musicians, including Lenny Bernstein, Carter, Piston, Thompson, and a certain Igor Stravinsky (pictured above.) I learned of her reversion to Catholicism, her attendance of daily mass, and her incredible piety.

Boulanger, it seems, was a secular nun of music, chaste and faithful, and rigorously demanding of her students.

Truth be told, I don't know if my rather fragile demeanor at the time would have fared well under her strict tutelage. Truth be told, I don't think I would have had the musicianship to last two days in her studio. Yet I remain grateful for the fact that she existed.

"Ye shall judge the tree by its fruit." From the centerpoint of Nadia Boulanger sprang much of the greatest music of the 20th century. Being surrounded by her students, I found myself reinvigorated about both music and humanity in general.

Most shockingly, the name of God and his desire for us was invoked repeatedly by various composers of various beliefs. These people were convinced not only that music was good, but that God wants us to write more of it. As a person of belief, I was honestly shocked to hear such a thing spoken aloud, at a liberal University, by a gathering of composers no less. Yet it pointed to the key missing ingredient in my creative search.

It was a great weekend, and it may have saved my life, let alone my career.
While I hate to write this, I am afraid that if the weekend had consisted of a gathering of former Schoenberg students, I would have likely quit.

What does it mean to live a life in music? Perhaps when I'm 70, I'll have a coherent answer to this question. Yet I'm quite sure I know what such a life is not meant to be, and by knowing the negative, the positive can begin to reveal itself.