Blame Game

A review/reflection of Stephen Puleo's book Dark Tide

What is 15 feet high, travels at 35 miles an hour, and is sweet and sticky?

If you guessed “lollipop rocket ship” than you are wrong and need to get your head checked. But if you guessed molasses on January 15, 1919 in Boston’s North End then you are correct. Give yourself a star.

Stephen Puleo’s book Dark Tide: The Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919 is the only definitive work on this tragedy, and it is good. Puleo spends time investigating not only the events themselves as well as the aftermath, but the threads of the American experience that are connected to this bizarre disaster. For example he spends time considering the story of the anarchist movements in America in the early 20^th century as well as the experience of Italian-Americans in that time period (there was considerable overlap between the two). It is a good historical work that not only tells the story of Boston’s North End, but of an aspect of the American experience

Now for another question:

What has no height but looms large, never moves but is always just beyond reach, and is dark and foreboding?

If you again guessed “lollipop rocket ship” then you seriously need to get your head checked. Really, there is something wrong with you. But if you guessed scapegoats then either you are really, really intuitive and smart, or you read ahead and cheated. No star for you!

Scapegoats are those persons, things, ideas that we used to cast blame, to hold up as responsible, and to assuage ourselves of any guilt. While Puleo does not mentions the notion of scapegoats in his work, the idea holds a strong narrative thread. As labor conditions worsen and workers rights have yet to be articulated in the early 20^th century, anarchists were one of those groups that rose to give voice to the frustration and despair that many workers in America were feeling. It is true that many also gathered with communists, with socialists, and with other leftist dissenters. Many represented immigrant communities which had little or no voice in the political system or with the powers that be. Many were involved with worker’s strikes, protests, and rallies. And sadly, many were involved in violent activities damaging property, wounding and sometimes killing people. Puleo sets the backdrop of the anarchist movement in the early 20^th century without taking away from the main story including the trails of Sacco and Vanzetti. They are not portrayed as great people, but are not portrayed as the cause of all that is wrong with all that is wrong in the world. Yet that is what happens in the trail that takes place after the accident in 1919. In the trail the company that was responsible for the giant molasses tank make a fervent argument that it was an anarchist who placed a bomb in the tank causing the destruction and the death. The anarchists become the scapegoat.

Such an argument is not surprising as it is something that we continue to see today. If something goes wrong we look to the group that we have been taught to distrust and blame them first. Terrorists, gang members, kids, ants, Republicans, Democrats, ranting preachers, and others all get on the list of people that we like to blame and use as the focus of our ire. The problem is that when we do this we are often allowing ourselves to be distracted from some of the deeper, more complex nature of the problem. We can be lulled into a false story that a company built a great molasses tank that was a symbol of the strength of American Industry but then some evil and nefarious men who didn’t want to see America succeed snuck in a blew up the tank not caring about the loss of innocent life. Or we can look at the story that Puleo offers that tells about the lack of a political voice in the Italian community, the nature of the North End of Boston, the lax regulation and oversight from the government, and how a drive for profit can lead people to cut many corners at what turned out to be a great expense.

We continue to create scapegoats today. We say that public schools are so bad because the kids are bad or the parents are bad or the drugs are bad but do not speak to the inequitable funding via property tax or the history of redlining and highway creation destroyed many neighborhoods and thus their schools. We say that one political party or another is the cause of all that is wrong in the world but do not speak to the ways in which companies fund both parties in such a way as to keep the common interest out of the political process. Even in churches we say that it is the music or the preaching that is the cause for people staying or leaving but do not speak to the ways in which the general approach to church and faith has become a secondary (or lower) aspect of peoples lives… including those who still claim to believe.

Scapegoats are easy. Scapegoats are quick. Puleo shows the depth that each problem offers and the richness that can be found in a thoughtful investigation.

Down with Scapegoats!

Those jerks.

Listen and Learn

I have just posted a new podcast episode here - I discuss learning and education in a Christian Context with the Rev. Paul Robeson Ford. Foucault is mentioned more than once making it wholesome. It is good listening!

you can also hear the podcast on iTunes under "twelve enough"

Unsung Heroes

A review/reflection of Winterdance: The Fine Madness of Running the Iditarod by Gary Paulsen

Gary Paulsen is crazy. I’m not making this up or being pejorative. He describes himself as a crazy s.o.b. His craziness comes out in his telling of his journey to and through the Iditarod in his book Winterdance: The Fine Madness of Running the Iditarod.

The book details his beginning love of dogs and sledding, his mad desire to run the Iditarod, and the surreal experiences he encountered in his first running of that iconic race. Paulsen’s book is well written, clear, and often self-effacing. He interjects humor well and does not overplay the dangers or difficulties that he faces. While the writing style tends towards the elementary he does a fine job keeping the reader’s interest and pulling the reader through the race. It is a good read about a major human and canine accomplishment that is not steeped in ego. Especially in the genre of “accomplishment” stories the lack of narcissism is refreshing.

Yet something is missing. In this book Paulsen refers to his wife often but not in depth. She is the wise watcher, the person who observes Paulson as he struggles to prepare in what seems to be a detached manner. She is supportive, she is caring, and at times she is concerned, but we do not have a picture of her with any kind of emotional depth. We do not hear if she was angry with Paulsen for putting the family through the financial stress and mental stress in the planning and preparation. We do not have any insight into their relationship; they do not argue or fight or disagree over Paulsen’s demonstrations of insanity. When Paulsen sleeps with his dogs his wife seems to express indifference.

Add his child to the picture. Paulsen says that he has a son, but it is not clear if his son was born before or after this first race. His son is only mentioned a handful of times and only in passing. Thus while on one hand Paulsen gives us a book about a man’s quest to race, finding himself, overcoming his fears, connecting with nature, etc. On the other hand if you look closely you find a story of a man and his dogs with his family in the background, almost forgotten.

There is a trite, bumper sticker saying that goes “behind every good man is a great woman.” This is supposed to be a coy way of celebrating the presence and activity of women in the world. I do not think it is as helpful as some may purport. It is coy and curt but it also celebrates the silence, the quiet support that many women are expected to offer to their spouses. Such a quiet, behind-the-scenes support means people will tell the stories of the “great men” with a quick reference to the woman who then is not celebrated for her strength and presence in the story. It suggests that the woman’s place is in the background.

I imagine Paulsen’s wife could tell her own story. She could tell a story of helping to tend the dogs, of watching her husband go on a ridiculous journey again and again, of the financial strain, of taking care of their son without Paulsen’s presence (I can only assume but do not know), and of wondering what place she has in her husband’s life – especially with all of those dogs around. Paulsen’s wife has a story. I think this is a good and interesting story and would be worth telling.

There are a multitude of good and interesting and worthwhile stories that are not told because they are painted not important or central or valuable. Yet I argue that this is far from the truth.

Behind every great and exciting story there are many other important and exciting stories that are unsung and unheard. These are the stories that need to be lifted up. These are the stories of mothers and wives or workers and grunts and others who are often overlooked and forgotten. Without the forgotten workers, the dedicated supporters, and the sacrificing helpers, the greats would never achieve their greatness. Rather than telling the story of the “hero,” tell the story of those who make the heroes happen. It is very likely that those stories are more real and more powerful. Celebrate the silent presence that is integral to greatness!

Podcast Episode - History, Tradition, and Identity

I've posted a new podcast episode where I am joined by the Rabbi Amy Levin and we talk about the importance of history and tradition - give it a listen via this link, or on iTunes under "twelve enough" Enjoy!

Why We Need More Bassoon In Worship

A reflection based on the Sonata in C Major for Bassoon and Basso Continue by Johann Friedrich Fasch

(a piece that I happen to be working on)

What should be the role of emotion in the religious arena? Should we have weepy, crying preachers blowing their nose every other line during the sermon because the message is just so darn sad and powerful? Should we have emotionally manipulative music, sweeping strings, majestic french horns, or anything resembling a John Williams soundtrack during the worship to pull at the heartstrings of the people? Or should we strive to control ourselves in the presence of the divine so that we can fully comprehend and appreciate the majesty of God and all that God does in our lives? Should we hold to reason and rationale and work to keep ourselves together and our emotions in check so that we can be aware of all of our actions in worship and in other aspects of our lives? What should be the role of emotion in religion?

I invite the reader to turn to Johann Friedric Fasch (1688-1758) who wrestled with this question in a very real way. Fasch was a composer of what the tweed jacket wearing neck-beards would describe the Baroque period(from the Portuguese barroco meaning an irregularly shaped pearl). This was a time in Western History when the notion of “affections” rose to the fore when considering the human experience. Affections are not to be confused with emotions, although there are similarities. Affections were what the 16^th century critic Lorenzo Giacomini described as “a spiritual movement or operation of the mind in which it is attracted or repelled by an object it has come to know” (from Palisca’s Baroque Music, p. 3-4). Sadness is an emotion, but the longing and desire for a connection that feeds one’s sadness is the affection. The affect is deeper and more profound than the emotion but not separate from the emotion. The Baroque era was one where many felt that music (and the arts in general) should fuel and move and feed the affects. In listening to music one should be pushed to an experience that is connected with one’s life, faith, values, etc., and be moved.

At this same time the religious scene is going nuts and experiencing multiple changes. Luther has already printed his 95 complaints and suggestions (1517) leading in part to the emergence of Protestant movements and communities. One hundred years is not enough time for things to settle and the religious landscape in Europe was rich with continued experimentation and change. Fasch was born into a Lutheran family and traveled in Lutheran communities, even married fine, upstanding daughters of Lutheran ministers. Yet he was engaged with a specific aspect of this family of faith. From 1726-1727 Fasch attended Bible studies with the Pietist (and in the minds of many the trouble-maker) Nicolaus Ludwig von Zinzendorf (incidentally, Zinzendorf is a great name for a Victorian era villain). Fasch attended these studies incognito, probably wearing a rubber Richard Nixon mask which, as you could imagine, would never drew the attention of others. After attending the Bible studies Fasch continued to correspond with Zinzendorf and was a practicing Pietist. For those who are not practicing Pietists, this aspect of Lutheranism emphasized the personal relationship with Christ, stressing the experience of the “new birth” via baptism, and saw the emotional aspect of life as very important. It was an emotional/affective arm of the Lutheran community. Can you begin to see a connection?

The Baroque era was a time when the arts was seen as appropriately influencing the affections. At the same time there were religious movements lifting up the emotional experience of the believer as an important part of one’s faith. Yet I would argue that this aspect of the religious experience was more than emotional but instead focused on the affects. There can be many aspects of religion and worship that feed the emotions. We play happy music so you can feel happy and then you go back to worship the next week because you want to continue to have that happy feeling when you are worshipping God or Jesus or whatever. In essence you are yearning for the feeling that you have when you are worshipping Jesus. This is shallow emotionality and I would argue a shallow faith. Go a little deeper and think of the affect that can be connected with commitment, faith, and an awareness of the divine. This is a sense of happiness that mixed with the awe and the love and the desire and the yearning and all of those things that are a mix of a deep religious experience. This is a profound experience that goes beyond happiness and a more mature and profound faith. The affective quality of worship and faith is deeper than the emotional one.

Consider the piece of music that started this whole rant. Fasch’s Sonata for Bassoon is written in a major key – something that I usually avoid. I prefer the minor keys because they seem to capture the pathos of the human experience. Yet Fasch’s first movement (one of the two traditional slow movements in a Baroque-era sonata) has a melodic and harmonic structure that almost articulates a longing and yearning which aspires for a connection with meaning and the divine in the human experience. His third movement is in the relative minor (a minor), further accenting the affective qualities of one wrestling with an understanding of the human condition (i.e. it is more than just sad). True to the Baroque style his second and fourth movements go at a break-neck pace with a frenetic momentum. They are not movements of a surface joy, but one of energy and passion. The usual qualities of a major key are heard (happier, brighter, etc.) but I would not describe the movements as “happy.” They are more than just happy or joyful. One is led to think of someone who has just had his or her 5^th cup of coffee and is ready to take on the day. This is the picture that one may be led to embrace in the second and fourth movements of Fasch’s Sonata.

The music speaks to the affects within which emotions can be found. The Sonata for Bassoon was not written as a religious piece, but consider the implications of offering it in a religious context. It is not a boring march void of feeling or emotion, and it is not something that offers a surface emotional experience. In the context of worship this piece can draw one to an honest examination of one’s relationship with the Holy Other (to reference Rudolph Otto) speaking to the affective quality of human experience rather than only the emotions. If we are to consider the place of experience and feeling in worship this is where I believe we should look. We are not looking to be happy or sad, but to loose ourselves in the mess and wonder and diversity of the human experience. Perhaps we should look for a renaissance of the Baroque era sensibilities– or maybe I am just being romantic about it. That is so classic me (did you see what I just did there?).

If you want to learn more about Johann Fasch, check out his fan club.

One recording of this piece that I can recommend is:

The Maryland Bach Aria Group; Deborah Greitzer plays the bassoon

Or Katarzyna Zdybel on Youtube offers another good recording

Here is the second movement for your listening enjoyment: