The Politics of Smashmouth, How Relatable Is St. Therese, and Things I'm Doing
Good morning!
And happy Wednesday. This week's been tough, but better for me, as I'm getting back into some healthy lifestyle habits.
False Hope, Smashmouth, and Masking Up
You may not think all these things are connected--do not worry, I will attempt to unravel my brain vomit for you. As I drove down Interstate 19 to pick up my free Krispy Kreme dozen of donuts for graduating college, Spotify shuffling all my music through the car stereo, Smashmouth's "Walkin' On the Sun" came on. It is, and I say this well aware of the gravitas of the statement, their best song. As with many songs I like, though, I often try to listen to the lyrics after I'm caught by the melody. With the knowledge that this was a 1997 release, let's take a look at some of them:
It ain't no joke I'd like to buy the world a toke
And teach the world to sing in perfect harmony
And teach the world to snuff the fires and the liars
Sure, sure, okay. It would be nice if everyone could be in unity. I get it. But let's look at verse two:
Twenty-five years ago they spoke out and they broke out
Of recession and oppression and together they toked
And they folked out with guitars around a bonfire
Just singing and clapping, man, what the hell happened?
Then some were spellbound some were hell-bound
Some they fell down and some got back up and
Fought back against the melt down
And their kids were hippie chicks, all hypocrites
Because fashion is smashing the true meaning of it
I don't doubt Smashmouth's good intentions with this song. Greg Camp, the songwriter here, is quoted as saying "The song was basically a social and racial battle cry. It was a sort of 'Can’t we all get along?' song for the time when I wrote it." But we must also ask what this "getting along" Camp speaks of looks like. It's not hard to read that he's looking for the "folked out" revolution of the 60s and 70s, but criticizes that "their kids were hippie chicks, all hypocrites". It's this mix of "man, I want to go back to the good ol' days where we could just hang and do whatever we wanted" and "these kids don't know what that's like". Let me caution: I'm not making a value judgement on Smashmouth, nor their very odd self-run Twitter account.
But what this does remind me of is the odd mindset of those that want all businesses reopened but also don't want to wear a mask. I wish we could go back to the old times (things open, no one wearing masks), and these kids just don't get it. The economy! Past the obvious logical issues with holding those statements in conjunction, it's fascinating to watch so many common good conservatives fall to this belief in real time. I absolutely do not fault anyone for wanting things to reopen or go back to normal--I think all of us do! Where I will fault others is for wanting to eat out or get their haircut at the expense of the poor and those who still must work on the front lines.
One last thought: there is obviously a lot of information going around in these times, and we're not quite certain what is or is not true. The relative benefits of wearing a mask can be debated back and forth. But one thing that I haven't seen argued is that there is a good in wearing a mask for the sake of making others feel safe. You could prove to me, right now, that masking would not do anything but make people feel better about being out in public, and I would still tell you that it'd be good to wear a mask. This is, for some, the crux of the issue: are you willing to minorly inconvenience yourself for the well-being (mental, physical, emotional) of others? Think carefully: your salvation might be affected by your answer.
St. Therese of Lisieux: The Most Relatable Saint?
One of my favorite things about the saints is how easily one can see reflections of God's mercy through them. As the saying goes, no matter what you've done, one of the saints has done worse! It's only human to be drawn to the failings of the saints before they were holy--most of us aren't there yet, and it's an easier foothold. Too often, though, we reduce them to a magic formula of "did sins, radical conversion, got holy and left all that behind". It's easy to relate to the doing sins part, but most of us will never have a radical conversion of heart. It makes the saints feel like idols instead of friends.
Which is why I loved the autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux (I am neglecting accent marks so my writing doesn't slow to a crawl, sue me). Story of a Soul is what it says it is--St. Therese recalls her life at every moment, and writes a few years before her passing about everything from feast days with her family to her intimate struggles with suffering. Remember, too, that her parents were St. Louis and Zelie Martin--this was not a normal upbringing, being raised by saints! But what truly gripped me is despite how foreign every single one of her major life experiences were to me, she was deeply relatable.
Here's an example. St. Therese struggled as a child to make friends, and found herself lonely. She recalls this especially as her older sister Marie joined the convent at Carmel (visits were seldom allowed, and if they were, it was for a brief time and behind a grill). She then reflects on how much she cried, and her affinity for crying in general:
If I ever hurt anyone's feelings by accident, instead of making the best of it, I was so disconsolate that I made myself ill, and that made things worse. Then, if I got over the first mistake, I would begin to cry because I had cried.
Incredible. If you are a crier like me (or as we say in the industry, blessed with the consolation of tears) you know exactly what this is like. Whomst among us has not relived times we have hurt others and felt moved to tears because of it? It is so easy to see the saints as rocks of holiness, just...sitting there, emotionless. Not so!
I love especially the interactions St. Therese has with her father, St. Louis. The two of them went to seek the bishop for permission when St. Therese wished to enter Carmel at an earlier age than normal, and right before the plea had been made by St. Therese:
Finally we were taken into the garden, and the Bishop was highly amused when Father told him that I had put my hair up only that morning, just to make myself look a little older. He has never forgotten this, as I know for a fact that he never speaks to anyone about his "little daughter" without telling them this story about her hair, while I heartily wish that nothing had been said about it.
Just delightful content. A classic dad embarrassing his teenage daughter, with the story retold ad nauseum. And she hates it! It's so good.
One more to show God's sense of humor in this: St. Therese wanted her sister, Celine, to join Carmel so badly, and it was revealed to her that it was indeed God's will. But Celine was going with ~a boy~ to ~a dance~! How distressing!
She was to go one evening with my aunt and cousins to a dance. I know not why, but I felt more anxious than usual, and I shed many tears, imploring Our Lord to hinder her dancing. And this was just what happened; for He did not suffer His little Spouse to dance that evening, although as a rule she did so most gracefully. And, to the astonishment of everyone, her partner, too, found that he was only able to walk gravely up and down with Mademoiselle. The poor young man slipped away in confusion, and did not dare appear again that evening.
Have you ever had a friend that's started dating someone and you just *know* that person isn't good for your friend? St. Therese of the Child Jesus, intercede for us.
As much as I loved these light anecdotes, and no one can deny how serious St. Therese is about self-mortification and suffering to grow closer to Christ (maybe more on this in a later letter), her realizations about God's love are immensely beautiful. Here's two I particularly liked:
That I fall asleep so often during meditation, and thanksgiving after Communion, should distress me. Well, I am not distressed. I reflect that little children are equally dear to their parents whether they are asleep or awake; that, in order to perform operations, doctors put their patients to sleep; and finally that "The Lord knoweth our frame, He remembereth that we are but dust." [...]
I had never been told before that it was possible for faults not to pain the Sacred Heart; this assurance filled me with joy and helped me to bear with patience the exile of this life. It was also the echo of my inmost thoughts. In truth I had long known that the Lord is more tender than a mother, and I have sounded the depths of more than one mother's heart. I know that a mother is ever ready to forgive her child's small thoughtless faults. How often have I not had this sweet experience! No reproach could have touched me more than one single kiss from my Mother. My nature is such that fear makes me shrink, while, under love's sweet rule, I not only advance—I fly.
Such tenderness! That we might fall asleep often in prayer and remind ourselves that the Lord knows our mortal frame! That we may know that the LORD is not pained by our small thoughtless faults! The purest love St. Therese has for Jesus comes through in these things, and I don't think it's a coincidence. When we focus on love and not our faults, it is so much easier to look ahead to opportunities we have to love and to be loved. Brooding over our faults and weaknesses and thinking that God must despise us for them is simply untrue. Not only that, it closes ourselves off to love, like a teenager keeping distance from their parents. We must love like St. Therese, and like Savage Garden--truly, madly, deeply.
St. Therese really resounded with me on basically every level, and the beauty of reading the saints is their intercession can be asked in all times, not just when we are learning about them or reading them! What a true joy it is to know that somewhere up there, St. Therese is smiling upon me. I cannot wait--God willing--to meet her in heaven!
And I Said Hey: What's Going On?
A couple things I've been doing in the past week:
I finished the board/card game I talked about last week! It is semi-officially titled Knaves of the Lost Realm, and you can find it here! It's by no means a finished product, but it's a single-player game that's printable off that link. All you need to play is two six-sided dice, a deck of cards, and a pencil! I'd be delighted if you gave it a shot, and if you have any feedback for me as I playtest and tweak more and more, please let me know!
I'm a huge list guy and I love planning, so you know how often God laughs at me. Lately I've been trying to meld the notions of "focusing just on today" with "planning is good and it makes me happy" and I've come up with the rolling three-day list. As readers of this letter may be aware, I don't start my full-time work until August, so all I have is personal projects to entertain me until then. So on Sunday, I put together three small lists, one for Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, just of some errands I had to run or tasks (like writing!) I had to do. As long as I get three hours of work done (really leaning into this monastic living thing), I don't care much about what does or does not get finished. I don't have too many deadlines right now! Then come Monday night when I'm done working, I reevaluate Tuesday and Wednesday's lists, and make one for Thursday. This lets me be flexible if I have an off day, but also wake up with some tasks to do so I don't wander around listless.
Sadly my body was not prepared for quarantine this long, and I can feel myself getting sluggish, so I'm starting a simple wellness regiment to try and fight against that. Every day, I am trying to: a) intermittently fast (only eat during an eight-hour stretch while I'm awake), b) drink a glass of water before and after each meal, and c) hit my 8,000 step goal (~3.75 miles) every day. Historically I do not respond well to being told that I cannot eat certain foods (cf. im baby), so I like that intermittent fasting allows me to eat whatever I want but be more attentive to my body telling me it's full. We'll see if I can stick to it and maybe drop a pound or two in the process.
In Christ,
Hunter "mask on, frick it mask on" Lantzman