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Tracey Rowland exhorts us to recover the weirdness of a sacramental, enchanted worldview as an antidote to “correlationism” (h/t to Bishop Erik Varden):

…pastoral strategists who spent decades promoting sacro-pop music and folk liturgies and modernized prayer books and manuals of ethical behavior devoid of any reference to God, grace, or sacrality, just “principles”, woke up to find themselves surrounded by a generation who want to study scholasticism, attend liturgies in Latin and, in the context of ethics, want to know how this or that act impacts upon their relationship with God.

The very “weirdness” of things pre-modern is part of what makes them different and thus attractive to those of post-modern sensibilities. It’s a little like the difference between going into a coffee shop on some cobbled street of old Catholic Europe, with its not-to-be-found anywhere-else-in-the-world ambience and picking up a coffee at Starbucks. Those who were young in the 60s may have been excited by the proliferation of modern chain stores, replicated in every town in the country, but today’s youth are bored by this. If, for example, it’s the Feast of the Epiphany, they like receiving a little packet of blessed chalk from their parish priest so they can write the initials of the three magi—Caspar, Melchior,and Balthasar and Christus Mansionem Benedicat (May Christ bless this house)—above their doorposts.

Whoever attacks a brother in need, or plots against him in his weaknesses of any sort, surely fulfills the devil’s law and subjects himself to it.

— Blessed Isaac of Stella, Office of Readings, 5th Saturday of Ordinary Time

Thoughts on Pedro Páramo:

I liked it a lot. The narrative is non-linear which made it a challenging read in Spanish. I leaned heavily on plot summaries and occasional AI queries to make sure I wasn’t missing the thread. Will probably watch the Netflix adaptation this weekend while it’s still fresh on my mind and am curious about how they’ll handle some of the weirder stuff. I found myself reaching for the dictionary frequently, but rather than a Spanish-English dictionary, I’ve decided to switch a conventional dictionary (in Spanish). I used the online version of the DLE but have a hard-copy version on the way. It’s shipping from Germany, which I think is sort of funny, and will be here some time in March. Some of the scenes are just indelible in their weirdness, particularly the narrator’s meeting with the brother and sister about midway through. I won’t go into much more detail. If you know, you know.

I’ve started El llano en llamas (“The Burning Plain”), which is a collection of Rulfo’s short stories. I’m finding some of these even more challenging than the novella. I looked up one word in the dictionary and couldn’t find it, so I used Google and nearly all the hits were from people posting the text of the story. Back to context clues and educated guesses. The story was El hombre and the word was “engarruñándose,” in case you’re wondering.

I caught a reference in one of the short stories to Media Luna, which is an important locale in Pedro Páramo. I did some digging and, sure enough, Rulfo set his stories in a fictionalized version of his native Jalisco, along the lines of Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha, thought without the persistent family stuff. I’ve written here before about fictional geographies and the weird itch that the tend to scratch for me, so it was gratifying to add another page to my mental atlas of “Places That Are Real But Also Not Real.”

I can also tell you that reading stories set in a place which is always warm - where the sun, shadows, and heat play a large part in the mood - as we stare down another cold snap with snow in the forecast has been just terrific for my general mood. And, you know, the pictures of Jalisco I’m seeing online are perfectly lovely…

I’m about halfway through Pedro Páramo. It’s slower-going than Borges—I have to check words and phrases more often. The story is also very surreal, with many shifts in time and place. Last night, I noticed that Netflix released a movie adaptation last year, so I’ll watch it after I’ve finished.

Katherine Rundell answers the question, Why children’s books? (h/t AL Daily)

There’s no doubt that reading for pleasure as a child can change your life. It is a key predictor of economic success later in life. But the main reason to help children seek out books is this: if you cut a person off from reading, you’re a thief. You cut them off from the song that humanity has been singing for thousands of years. You cut them off from what we have laid out for the next generation, and the next. It’s in the technology of writing that we’ve preserved our boldest, most original thought, our best jokes and most generous comfort. To fail to do everything we can to help children hear that song is a cruelty – and a stupidity – for which we should not expect to be forgiven. We need to be infinitely more furious that there are children without books.

St. Frances de Sales on the sin of detraction:

Thus we can never pronounce a man to be wicked without danger of falsehood. If we must needs speak, we must say that he has been guilty of such an evil deed, at such a time he misconducted himself, or he is now doing so; but we should not condemn today because of today, still less tomorrow.

But whilst you give good heed to speak no evil concerning your neighbor, beware of falling into the opposite extreme, as some do, who, seek to avoid slander, praise vice. If you come in the way of a downright slanderer, do not defend him by calling frank and honest-speaking; do not miscall dangerous freedoms by the name of simplicity or easiness, or call disobedience zeal, or arrogance self-respect; do not fly from slander into flattery and indulgence of vice, but call evil evil without hesitation, and blame that which is blamable.

He goes on to add certain conditions, particularly as it becomes necessary to speak in front of others:

When you blame the vices of another, consider whether if it is profitable or useful to those who hear to do so…Above all, you must be exceedingly exact in what you say; your tongue when you speak of your neighbor is as a knife in the hand of a surgeon who is going to cut between nerves and tendons. Your stroke must be accurate, and neither deeper nor slighter than what is needed; and whilst you blame the sin, always spare the sinner as much as possible.

From Introduction to the Devout Life. This comes directly after his meditations on rash judgements. Providentially, this has been my spiritual reading for the last couple of days as I’ve also concluded that I need to maintain a foothold on one or two social media platforms. I do this with extreme reluctance.

For one, I’m not keen on being at the receiving end of The Algorithms. If I let myself go down the Reels rathole, for example, the minor adjustments to the feed because obvious pretty quick and things get porny in a hurry. No thanks. Second, the engagement based on anger or fear works on me just like it does on anyone else and I can function just fine online without using a front-end which monetizes the worst. I have a decent daily rhythm of RSS reeds and other text-heavy sites and can stay pretty well informed as far as news and daily events, but there are plenty of local organizations and groups which don’t publish via RSS and only push out communications on Facebook, Instagram, or X. I wish it weren’t so, but there it is.

On the other hand, keeping up with the constant news cycle puts me alongside everyone else who’s doing the same, and who is it that I desire to serve, anyway? It doesn’t feel like I can just opt out and go completely monastic; that’s neither my station nor vocation. On the third hand, I can’t give what I don’t have, and reasonable peace feels like it’s pretty short supply so I will, once again, try to look into the craziness without wading into the middle of it. Because, let’s be honest, there’s nothing social about it it at all. When everyone’s feed is exquisitely tuned to the viewer, there is no shared experience. A bathroom wall is more democratic; at least we’re all looking at the same graffiti.

THEY PAINT THE WALLS TO HIDE MY PEN, amirite?

Wherefore now, o Poet?

Retreating into the relative silence of text is what I want to do; but this begins to feel like a withdrawal from the world (such as it is) in a way that’s at odds with diaconal ministry. And by text, I mean it: I run a local RSS aggregator called Miniflux and follow daily 160 or so feeds of varying activity. I also skim a handful of other news sites using elinks, and all of this behind a pi-hole for the times that I do use a full browser.

Anyway, I feel obliged to keep up so I don’t think this is FOMO masquerading as concern. I would happily punt it all, smartphone included, but people expect me to know what’s going on and responding with lol idk what that is doesn’t seem particularly helpful.

Unrelated: I went down a long rathole this weekend, guided by the Extropia’s Children series of posts at Gradient Ascendant. Part of this included revisiting the cypherpunks list archives from the mid-90s. I lurked on that list for quite a while but eventually drifted away because of a lot of craziness. One thing that strikes me now is how conditioned the discussions were based on the technology of the day: email. So much time spent obsessing over email: securing, authenticating, remixing/remailing anonymously, and so on. Remember anon.penet.fi? It seems so quaint now, 30 plus years later.

My opinion is that the future will look on a lot of the rationalist/extropian stuff the same way we look at the teeming chaos of 4th century gnosticism. It all seems cut from the same cloth, and will probably come to the same general ends: either death or Christ.