Chronological Randomness

Some days(like last week when I last tried to post) you find it hard to write because you have nothing to say, prey to that vicious disease of Writer's Block.

And some days you find it hard to write because you have too much to say.

Much of this shall be unrelated randomness, so I shall begin with the Feast of St. Valentine.

Now, I admit it: I have spent my fair share of time celebrating SAD(Singles Awareness Day). But I have come to deeply appreciate St. Valentine, and his holiday, despite the way our culture may have hijacked it.

Now as a long-time Christian, I heard from time to time that Valentine's Day had some Christian roots, but only vaguely, and this was mainly due to a fairly recent Adventures in Oddessey episode. At any rate, whatever St. Valentine's Day meant to Christians regarded happily married couples only. . .no value whatsoever to me, single and fifteen at the time. I was busy writing semi-emo songs and lamenting the romantic foibles of my then-crush, resentful of the fact that none of them included me. I was something like an adolescent wannabe-Dante(or, perhaps, Edgar Allen Poe?)

Anyway, as you can assume, that all changed(I now write like a wannabe G.K. Chesterton).

Like most changes in life, this one was facilitated by Torrey Academy. It was actually February 14th, and I was sitting in my seat, ready for Inklings Class to begin. . .

When Mr. Bartel walked into the room.

The legendary tutor of the Faith of our Fathers Class before ours, the class that read authors with only one name(Petrarch, Athanasius, Dante!);the imposing figure that was always dressed like an Oxford Professor; the legendary poet and hilarious joker: Mr. Bartel, the Master Tutor of Torrey Academy.

He walked in, and announced that he would be co-tutoring along with Ms. Maraldo for the purpose of giving us a Valentine's Day devotional. And he proceeded to do so.

So goes the legend of St. Valentine: A Christian Priest in Rome, he was performing Christian Marraiges when it was illegal to do so(some say the emperor outlawed it so that more men would become soldiers). St. Valentine was arrested, and told to renounce Christ. During his time in prison, he fell in love with the Jailer's daughter(who some say he healed from blindness, while some say that he healed the emperor's daughter, while some leave out the episode altogether). On the 14th of February, he was beheaded. But before he died, he left a note in his cell, and at the end he wrote:

From Your Valentine.

Now, the facts, apart from the legend(which I find no great reason to disbelieve) are that he was simply a martyr in Rome. My copy of Englebert's The Live's of the Saints states that there were two Valentine's, the early Roman and another, who have been condensed into one Saint. This might explain the confusion of details. At any rate, we celebrate his Martyrdom on the 14th, while there was a Pagan love holiday on the 15th, which was absorbed into St. Valentine's Day.

The fact is, the dude existed. Period. He might not have been intrinsically linked to Christian Marraige, but hey, I like legends, and I see no reason to disbelieve all of them except the universal cynicism our time is prey to. At any rate, he has become the Patron of Christian marraige. And I think he's pretty darn awesome, if I say so myself.

The legend really needed no explanation, but Mr. Bartel went on. I honestly can't remember the specifics, but I do remember the jist of it, and that one thing he did was set the story in modern times: "What if marraige was outlawed in San Dimas?" said he (From this, an astute mind might gather that the class met in San Dimas).

The point is, I, along with most of y'all who read this, are not married. Why should we care about how awesome Christian marraige is? But look at it a little philosophically: does a thing's essential quality change simply because of our relation to it or opinion regarding it? If I have refuse to believe in New York, does that mean it doesn't exist? If I have never been a Marine and cannot bring myself to believe that Marine's use M16 assault rifles, does that change the fact that they do? No. So while I have no personal experience with matrimony, I still revere it. It really would take Mr. Bartel(and a few great poets) to try and make someone understand why marraige is so great. I will leave it at this: A man's love for his wife is an image of Christ's love for His Church. Learning how to love another human being, romantically or platonically, is an essential part of being human.

And of being Christian, which I think is ultimately a part of being a good person.
But think about it. We might admire a pagan, a man who could not love God aright; could we admire a man who could not love a woman?

Anyway, like I said, I cannot do the wonder of St. Valentine's day justice. Someday I will write more about this. . .especially given Dante and Lewis' views on the matter. Ah, Beatrice.

A good transition.

Dante.

I don't think I can impress upon you how much I love Dante.

I LOVE DANTE!!!!!!!!

Anyway, I was feeling somewhat depressed with human sinfulness, specifically my own. Feeling rather heartless, I spent some time in prayer, and although I felt secure in God's forgiveness, I still felt wretched. I heard the Spirit tell me:

Do you know I still love you?

Of course, a powerful word: but doubting the love of God never really occurs to me. Regardless of the beauty of God's forgiveness and unconditional love, my heart was still in a loathsome state. I knew I needed to glimpse an image of God's unfathomable love.

So I reached for Dr. Esolen's translation of Paradise.

I opened up to a random passage, and I discovered Canto 18, and oh my goodness! It is impossible to overstate my love of this passage:

E quella donna ch'a Dio mi menava
disse: "Muta pensier; pensa chi'i' sono
presso a colui ch'ogne torto disgrava".
Io mi rivolsi a l'amoroso suono
del mio conforto; e qual io allor vidi
ne li occhi santi amor, qui l'abbandono
non perch' io pur del mio parlar diffidi
ma per la mente che non puo redire
sovra se tanto, s'altri non la guidi
Tanto poss' io di quel punto ridire
che, rimirando lei, lo mio affetto
libero fu da ogne altro disire
fin che 'l piacere etterno, che diretto
raggiava in Beatrice, dal bel viso
mi contentava col secondo aspettp
Vincendo me col lume d'um sorriso,
ella mi disse: "Volgoti e ascolata;
che non pur ne' miei occhi e paradiso".

"When she who'd led me unto God began,/'Let your thoughts change, for I am near the Lord./ the One who lifts the yoke of every wrong.'/I turned unto my comfort when I heard/ her kindly voice, and saw such depth of love/ in her blest eyes, I give up, for no word / Can claim my confidence, and, even more,/ unless Another guides it, memory / cannot retutn from heights so far above / It's power. But as I gazed, my soul was free / of all it's many cravings to posess / anything else- for that much I can say, / because the everlasting winsomeness / shone upon Beatrice, from whose lovely eyes / reflected radiance contented me / Conquering with the flashing of a smile, / she said to me, 'Listen now, turn around- / my eyes are not the only Paradise'."

And, yeah, I cried. In truth, I find the statements "Real Men don't cry" and "Real men aren't afraid to cry" to be equally ridiculous. I think the matter of crying depends on what one is crying. Real men cry at great sorrow or beauty; For example, Charlemayn at the death of Roland. Real men do not cry over their stubbed toe or injured pride. I did not quite bawl or weep, but I am proud to own up to the fact that I did indeed cry.

I am unable to express how amazing this passage is. I might try someday, and elaborate on some of the other lines that moved me. But for now, just believe me, even if you couldn't tell:

Dante is awesome.

He will always be awesome, and no matter what Harold Bloom says, he will always be awesomer than Shakespeare.

That brings me to today. . .err, yesterday, since it's now 1:18 AM. I spent Monday reading literary criticism. . .and Harold Bloom is the second stupidest genius I have ever read(Phillip Pullman comes first. I think Richard Dawkins may top Bloom, but I haven't read him yet. Pullman stays number one). Anyway, yes, Shakespeare is awesome, but no, Mr. Bloom, he is not God. Bardolatry is worse than irreverent; it is stupid. Shakespeare may have written the greatest literature to ever be written in the English Language(correction: he did). But seriously. . . speaking purely as literary figures, Hamlet is nowhere near Jesus in importance, as Bloom claims. Shakespeare makes me want to be a better poet. . .but not a better person. Dante does both. Shakepeare at best can make me laugh a lot, or feel depressed. He cannot fill me with Joy.

Dante can.

Maybe a premature judgement, but I think it is one I shall hold to for a while.

Anyway, there is still much to write about(Finances, College choices, the correlation between Love and Money, Brave Saint Saturn's New Album, and my discovery of the first Techno band that I actually enjoy listening to!).

But it is late, and I want to read more Dante.

God be with you all.