Back on the Blogosphere?

Maybe, maybe not. I'm currently working nights, which leaves me with some extremely anti-social awake times. You'd think that would inspire me to new heights of intellectual brilliance and blog-posting but it has in fact done the opposite and I seem to spend most of my free time wishing I was inspired and doing nothing to inspire myself very much. This should change. A lot has happened since April. I have gone places and done stuff. I have learned things and taught others, I have had some ups and some downs. I keep coming back to this blog and thinking I should update more often. And in the past I have said I would. I've said that so often that I'm pretty sure my handful of readers don't believe me! :) And today I am not going to say anything incredibly ambitious like 'I'll post once a week from here on out', because it's not fair or true. One day at a time, one post at a time, time will pass. I tried giving myself what I hoped was a multi-part project with the Partisans article, but after I posted the first post I felt I may have said too much of what I was thinking, and maybe the world at large didn't need part two. I'm considering posting some pics from some of my travels on here, because with a visual cue I think it might be easier to write. I've considered writing seven posts on one day and robo-posting them. I still might try that some time. We'll see...

On Religion and Partisans (Part One)

So, I'm working on a class project about the partisan movements of the Baltic countries during and directly after WWII. It's both fascinating and incredibly depressing. Many (but not all) of the people I'm reading about had a deep and abiding love of their country, despite the incredible dangers and hardships they faced. Not all of them shared the same ideas as to how things should be done. The best of them protected their weaker neighbours and harassed the enemy invaders of both sides who tried to eradicate them at every turn. The worst of them were violent and sometimes bigoted individuals who shot whoever they felt like or didn't like under the auspices of patriotism or while collaborating with the occupiers dejour. The best and the worst are worlds apart, yet they both get considered as partisans by the outside world. And now I'm going to make an imperfect analogy, but one that feels very natural to me. When I was ten, my parents started attending the Tridentine Mass. I will be the first to admit that ten-year-old me did not appreciate it as much as I perhaps ought to have. At the very beginning, I was actively hostile to the idea, insofar as a ten year old could be actively hostile. I didn't want to go. It took forever, it was in Foreign, it did not feel the least bit edifying and the old ladies pinched my cheeks. After Mass, there were sometimes, but not always, social gatherings in the parish hall. And these were more interesting to ten year old me, because they were in English, for one. And for two, the people at these social gatherings were always interesting. They were mostly older, some the terrifying old ladies who pinched my cheeks, some the cranky grandfatherly type, some people my parents' age who always seemed a bit peculiar, a handful of older teens, most of whom didn't ever stay very long or talk to ten year old me. But there were books to read, some of a 'usually out of print' nature and some of an 'out of print for a good reason' nature. These books intrigued ten year old me at least a little bit and I read some of them and I listened to the conversations of various grownups. From these books and from those conversations I came to the following nearly inescapable conclusions: 1. Once upon a time, this is what everyone did. Everyone prayed in Foreign and went to the church hall to speak in Local (and sometimes the Other Foreign, as appropriate to the ethnicity of the majority of the congregation). 2. Something Bad Happened in the 60s and everyone stopped doing what they had been doing. 3. Those who objected were ruthlessly kicked out of their home parishes which were then wreckovated to oblivion. Many of them were forced to attend Masses in hotel conference rooms, without the knowledge of their bishops, who were almost universally Bad Guys, or if not bad, then intimidated by pant-suit wearing nuns. 4. We, the attendees of this liturgy, were a small group of faithful people who were going against the larger group of people who had either tamely accepted everything the bishops had said and done as Word of God, or had left the church for various Protestant denominations. From ages 10 through about 14 these ideas merely percolated. I still didn't particularly like the TLM, but the thoughts were there. Around age 14, I started to feel that even though I didn't _like_ the TLM, it was more spiritually beneficial for me to attend it. At age 16, I read the Silmarillion, which made a profound impression on me and to this day I don't know exactly how my brain tied the Silmarillion and the TLM together but it did. I actually started to enjoy attending and tried to puzzle out the Latin with varying degrees of success. Around 16 or 17, I started flirting with the ideas of sedevacantism, a sort of back-burner thought process that continued up through freshman year of college. To Be Continued...