Basement of the Heart

U of I Students Seek to Engage Faith and Culture Through Art

Amanda Ang reads her poem "Fight Club"

Shea Acott plays Allemande from Bach's 4th Cello Suite

On Sunday, April 7, a group of University of Illinois students shared a presentation at St John's Catholic Newman Center on "Enagaging Faith and Culture."  The group, called "Basement of the Heart," consists of student artists who meet weekly to:

• create intentional space for dialogue on the arts, faith, culture, and their inter-connection
• build friendships and community around these ideals
• encourage creation of their own works through respectful sharing and critique
• influence the culture through beautiful and meaningful artistic artifacts

Throughout the semester, the group met weekly.  We shared and discussed artifacts, engaged in discussion for clarification of thought, and read selections from Andy Crouch's "Culture Making: Rediscovering Our Creative Calling,"  which challenges Christians to do less critiquing, copying, and consuming, and more creating; we are, after all, created in the likeness of a God who is creator.  The lack of compelling cultural artifacts of a Christan spirit is largely our own fault, he says.  Crouch offers many helpful insights and ideas.

I serve as moderator of the group.  I began  the presentation by quoting from Pope John Paul II's 1999 "Letter to Artists" in which he stressed that the church needs art, and art needs the church; and that the world needs beauty in order not to sink into despair.  I also quoted Joseph Ratzinger who, prior to becoming pope, once said, "the only really effective apologia for Christianity comes down to two arguments, namely, the saints the church has produced and the art which has grown in her womb."

Shea Acott, a sophomore cello major, played a movement from Bach's 4th Cello Suite.  Amanda Ang, a sophomore in environmental economics, then read a poem inspired by the film "Fight Club:"

Fight Club

i desperately need to connect with someone

i need to break out of my

Cling-wrapped existence

the muffled sounds of Out There

striking numbly at my bones

i want a true connection

not just another conversation 

dripping with superficiality

not just another “How are you?” 

and “I’m doing well” 

but a “What do you mean? Do you wish me 

a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning 

whether I want it or not; or that you feel good

this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?” 

and “All of them at once” 

i want my life

to be infused with many Alleluia choruses

and Sonata “Pathetique”s 

i want my life to be 

a pebble that falls

not just a leaf, smooth-sailing

i want to take the punches for You

tonight, and always

You don’t have to go it alone

here, in the basement of my heart

i can no longer live with my Tyler Durden 

i must fight

i cannot be Marla Singer

i must live

the revolution is not Out There

the Mayhem is in the basement

the Mayhem started with me

We need to fight

to be alive

but not just fight, for fighting’s sake

but fight for our humanity

but fight to our very last breath

giving it all away

Amanda spoke briefly about the poem, explaining that these men in the film were  fighting for their lives and humanity amid a numb and alienating world of un-fulfilling work and relationships.  The "basement" is the hidden depths where, underground and invisible to society, we engage life intensely, fighting for meaning, purpose, and life itself.  She spoke of how the group latched on to the "basement of the heart" phrase as a title.

Next, Ruth Kenney, a sophomore performing vocal arts major, gave a summary of the group's activities, aims and ideals, elaborating on the four main themes while stressing that for believers, devotion, while very important, is not enough -- excellence in one's field/craft is a must if we hope to have any influence on the culture.

Adrienne Fair, a senior fine arts major specializing in metals, then gave a testimony of her experience as both a devoted Catholic and art major, and how she worked to reconcile these two identities amid a secular academic climate sometimes wary or hostile to religion.  She spoke on her thesis project, on display in the campus's "Link" Gallery, which she described as follows:

I have created a body of work that consists of four wearable objects and one non-wearable object. The objects are contemporary references to the spiritual Body of the Catholic Church. Each piece will reference the union between the physical body and the spiritual Body. The five objects are 1) a headpiece for God the Father 2) an instrument for Jesus Christ the Word made flesh, 3) a signet ring for the Holy Spirit, 4) a brooch worn over the heart for the Virgin Mary and 5) an armlet representing Mankind and the Physical Church on Earth. 

 

Adrienne led some participants on guided tour of her exhibit after the presentation.

Finally, Angel Diaz, a U of I grad from a few years ago, spoke of his initiative called "The Glass Darkly," a recently established quarterly arts magazine on themes of faith.  Angel currently lives in Chicago and was an English major specializing in poetry.  His friend, colleague, and fellow alum Bob Puschautz, an art major and painter, presented with him.  They spoke of the grassroots origins of their magazine, which began as conversations among like-minded friends.  They shared their desire to bring together people of similar interests and values to continue the conversation on art, faith and culture, and to encourage meaningful artistic creation from a faith perspective.  

 

The presentation closed with an invitation by Dana Byerwalter, a senior English major, to attend her upcoming reading of her short story, a winner selected  in the University's undergraduate creative writing contest.  

This was the first of what will hopefully be many public presentations by the group, which only began in January.  It's exciting and encouraging to see talented young people of faith coming together, seeking to impact the world by sharing their unique artistic voices in a compelling and well-honed way.  Shea, Amanda and I were on the Rome pilgrimage together a few week ago, where we prayed in Santa Maria Sopra Minerva at the tomb of the great pre-Renaissance master Blessed Fra Angelico, patron saint of artists.  We prayed for a deep artistic anointing for ourselves, "Basement of the Heart," and all artists.  I look forward to seeing the beautiful and unexpected ways this prayer gets answered.

Farewell, my dear friend

Vin Luong, Face of a Free Man

The first time I met Vin, it was with Jessamyn at Panera in Peoria.  As everyone knows, Vin  possessed a legendary cool.  So naturally, I was impressed by the breathtaking spectacle of this guy with paint splattered clothes, tight v-neck t-shirt, bad-ass jewelry, mammoth key collection attached to the Incredible Hulk action figure key ring, and of course... that hair.  He had a swagger that, in some incomprehensible way, was not arrogant but rather humble...humble while managing at the same time to be supremely confident.  Only he could pull it off.  He had his little tablet computer with him, all tricked out Vin-style, to share his artwork, which of course blew my mind.  But what impressed me most was his face. 

I am usually pretty dense when it comes to first impressions.  It's hard for me to remember faces, let alone names, after a first meeting, probably because I need shared experiences to really form impressions that stick.  It's embarrassing to say, but everyone kind of looks the same to me at first.  But this guy... it was a blaze of instant, unforgettable recognition.  It was that face.  The first thought that came into my mind when I first laid eyes on Vin was this phrase: "the face of a free man."  (I actually would end up writing a song based on that phrase).Vin was free, man.  I admired it, was drawn to it, wanted it.  Whatever this man had, I wanted it! 

Vin proved all too ready to oblige. He was the perfect blend of brilliance and humanity.  He wanted to be your friend.  He was kind, accessible, and transparent as a mountain stream.  Vin would have had every right to be an edgy, aloof indie rock star artist.  He simply had it, the man was goooood, he was naturally and effortlessly cool, to a degree that lesser people drool and pose and preen a lifetime for, and never achieve.  But he detested those kind of airs.  He renounced poser-dom and had some very sharp things to say on the subject, when pressed.  He was interested in reality, not appearances.  That's why his art was so fricking beautiful and bad-ass.

Vin and I quickly became good friends.  He was a real encourager.  When Jessamyn and I were struggling to play something or not sounding any good, he would simply say: "You guys just need to find your mojo, and you will start kicking ass!"  He stayed up all night painting gold stars on a stupid black bed sheet for me, tranforming it into something transcendent, simply because I mentioned that I would love to have a "space" backdrop for my "launch" party concert for Space Traveler.  When I complained to him how lame I dressed compared to him, he took me to Target and helped me update my wardrobe.  He bought me some faux Chuck Taylors and a V-neck for my birthday; the former were a big hit but I was never able to pull off the latter...my scrawny-ass body simply could not rock that V-neck like Vin. 

Last March, he drove three hours (each way) to meet me and Ben up at our new condo, and shared with us his visions for what he would do with our place.  He was going to do it for free, by the way.  Among other things, he was going to paint some birds in Ben's room and paint a vine winding around the post by the breakfast bar.  Unfortunately, life got busy and we never found the time.  Ben still cherishes that memory, as I do, especially afterwards when we went to Golden Corral and day-dreamed together in the glow of that early Spring.  

Vin gave me the painting you see above as a going-away gift when I moved from Peoria to Champaign.  It has a place of honor in my room, having taken on new meaning and poignancy in past weeks.  He also led a bunch of us dear friends around Chinatown in Chicago on New Year's Day, 2012, a special day and one of the truly great and blessed memories of friendship I may ever have.  Ah, the memories are rich... and so many.  And yet, too few.  I grieve there will not be more

Vin was an example of what, sadly, seems to be increasingly rare: a bona-fide American dream success story.  Chinese but raised in Vietnam,  he fled to the USA as a young man.  He used to say that he would never allow himself to remain in the comfort of a Chinese-speaking enclave.  He learned English, after not knowing a word, and set out to be a part of the world he loved best: art.  He got a job in a framing store, engaged and befriended the local art community, and worked his way up to making a living as a full time artist.  "I am doing what I love," Vin would always say, with passion and delight.  His artwork pretty much defines the ambience and spirit of One World Cafe, one of Peoria's most popular beloved local restaurants (and one of its few genuinely hip, indie establishments).  His art is actually all over the Peoria area and beyond, both in public establishments like restaurants and schools, as well as in the private homes of well-heeled folks who wisely used their ample resources to let Vin transform their houses into riotous celebrations of awesomeness.

The greatest thing about Vin was his love for his wife.  The dude was in love, man.  He possessed great tenderness, and nowhere was it more on display than with Jessamyn.  Those two had something truly special.  Jessamyn told me about a year ago that Vin said to her something like: "You know, if you keep letting me be me, and I let you be you, we can be happy together for the rest of our life."  She laughed as she recounted it, taking delight in the simple beauty and wisdom of the words, which were just so... well, just so Vin.

Jessamyn was Vin's muse.  She seems to be in just about every one of his paintings.  The man had an extraordinary capacity for seeing.  He let reality move him, he respected it, gazed intently on it, respected it by trying to let it be itself and thus see deeper and deeper into its secrets.  Then, he would show us what he saw.  His paintings are prophetic revelations of insight.  I am so moved by the depths of what he saw in Jessamyn.  This is one of my favorites:

Goodbye, Vin.  I love you and miss you.  I am so very sad.  I especially would have liked to see you one last time to say goodbye.  My faith and hope in Christ assure me that we will meet again.  And that you still see me, hear me, love me.  Help me find and keep my mojo, man.  Look after your wife.  Pick out a nice spot, because when we get back together, we will each have so much to say.

 

When the Ship Comes In...(it's going to Rome!!!)

My two biggest passions in life are music and God.  As a confused teenager, though, I was not quite ready for God.  For a time, music was the closest thing I had.  My “evangelists” were  Dylan, Hendrix, Clapton and Eric Johnson, more than Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.  I’m not proud of this, but it’s where I was at.  Although, I think music prepared my heart for God and pointed me in the right direction.  (In fact, I think it continues to be so).

When I met God,  I eventually answered the call to give Him everything and follow as a priest. But, I began to wonder where music fit.  For a time, I thought music would have to go.  How could I serve two masters?  I sold my electric guitar and bought a classical, thinking that would at least be acceptable/respectable in the seminary.  I studied classical for three years and even became decent at this highly disciplined form of guitar playing.

One day towards the end of seminary, I was playing classical and suddenly, without warning, something just snapped inside me.  I spontaneously began ripping into a bunch of riffs and blues licks.  A thrill and joy came back to me and I just tore it up on that nylon string guitar for, like, an hour.  Maybe more.  A few weeks later, I bought another electric guitar.

I have always struggled to reconcile my love for “rock ‘n’ roll” (a rather general category with many broad meanings) with being a priest.  Songs have a magical, almost sacramental quality for me.  They take me someplace beautiful which just feels right and true.  I just can’t believe that God is displeased with this, at least when it’s done well.  As an aspiring songwriter, I have always felt that some things can only be said through songs.  But some people frown on this.  Shouldn’t a priest be only concerned with prayer and the church?  Isn’t anything else inappropriate, even selfish?

I have always wondered why God would give me a passion for music, only to ask me to give it all up.  Isn’t there a middle ground?  Can’t some good come from a priest who happens to also love and play music, even if it is not explicitly Christian/Praise music?  I have always been a rather unconventional priest.  I often feel like a square peg in a round hole.  I often struggle with feelings of inferiority to other priests who don’t seem to struggle with such attachments.  I often wish I could just be content to do prayer and the Word and the sacraments and be happy, like so many other priests who I recognize as being holier and superior to myself.  Sometimes, I wonder if my music is just part of a stupid ego trip, and that I should finally give it up and be a “real” priest.

But I have chosen to follow my heart, and as I have come to know God better as a tender and loving Father, I have come to more peace being “myself,” quirky and unconventional as that is. And, I have seen a lot of good God has done by using me as I am, rather than as some forced icon I can never be.

Anyway, I feel like it all came together last night.  I got to play music and share songs with my beloved students, who have become my dear friends.  The reason I know them is because I am their priest.  And the whole reason for the evening was to raise $$$ so I could go to Rome... to visit “ground zero” of my faith and priesthood.  Music and songs, which I always struggled to reconcile with my priesthood, became the vehicle to get me to the “mother ship,” with the pope and all.  What a blessing!

I am still processing all this, “pondering it in my heart.”  I am really happy.   The bottom line is: God is so good.  He always surprises me, proving way better than I think.  And you are so good.

I cannot adequately express my gratitude, or how moved I was, by the outpouring of love and support I experienced last night.  About 110 people came to the concert, which raised over $700.  I am now in the clear.  All expenses are covered and I am headed to Rome! I have never been there before.  I was supposed to go in 2002, but I broke my ankle a few weeks before and had to bail.  I was sad, but figured, the time must not be right.  I prayed: “Lord, if/when the time is right, I know you will show me.”

When the March trip with Dr. Howell and students was proposed to me last semester, I thought the time had come.  I was super pumped.  Unfortunately, though, I was short on cash.  I asked God to let some money drop out of the sky if I was to go.  Well, the December deadline came and went... and no money dropped from heaven.  So, I wrote it off, and figured, oh well there’s always next time.

Then, through a series of unforeseen graces, some people worked behind the scenes to try and fund-raise for me.  College students, who are basically broke, raised over $1500 on my behalf.  It all culminated in last night’s concert, which raised the rest.  I felt loved and honored.  I felt so happy that part of the way I could raise the money to get to Rome was through my “unconventional” gift of music. I was happy to be a part of so many people having so much fun!

I sang “When the Ship Comes In” last night by Bob Dylan.  For me, last night felt like my own “ship” came in... and it’s heading to Rome!  (Well, ok, technically it’s a plane... but you get the idea).  Thanks for letting me be myself and share my gift of my quirky, unusual self.  And for your incredible love and support.  I am so blessed to be a part of the Newman community.  I feel like the most blessed priest in the diocese.

Special thanks go to Tom Comberiate, Pat Doherty, Marek Mroczek, Steven Boyer, Greg Morehouse, Laz Ramos, Colten Maertens, and Bill Fox, the “Fever” guys who organized this event, via the Kinights of Columbus, and generously opened their home and hosted the event, with lots of sacrifice.  Thanks to Shea Acott, Amanda Ang, Stacy Hague, and of course, Bill, for joining in the music.  And thanks to all of you who came and/or contributed to making possible my Rome adventure.  You are such a gift and a blessing to me, and I am fortunate to have you in my life.  Many, many thanks to all of you.  May God reward your generosity and kindness in unforeseen ways.  I will bring all of you to Rome with me and pray for you at all the holy places!

Much love,
Fr Charles

Crossroads Rock & Roll Presentation

http://www.archden.org/index.cfm/ID/9794

Here is a write-up of last week's presentation.  It was a delightful experience, made even better by the welcome and friendship I enjoyed with my old Denver friends.  John Waters is a wise soul in whose company I learned much and benefited deeply.  Many thanks to Jonathan Ghaly for organizing the event and inviting me to participate.

"Let Me Drink" -- Song Review

"Let Me Drink" by Ghost & Door Party was recently reviewed by Devon Jackson through MusicXray.  Devon Jackson has written about music and film for a variety of publications--from Entertainment Weekly and The Village Voice to Rolling Stone and Details. He is also the author of Conspiranoia! and currently the editor of Santa Fean magazine. Here is the review:

After Charles Klamut opens with a very gentle guitar (that, in its chords, resembles Creed’s “Arms Wide Open”), his partner, Jessamyn Luong, follows him with what sounds like an (even gentler) ocarina, giving this song a kind of, at first, Irish folk song tunefulness. Klamut’s voice is extremely rich, sort of like the Pogues’ Shane MacGowan—only minus the booze-and-cigs gruffness. Luong also chimes in with her mandolin—and instrumentally, that’s it. Luong remains more or less in the background, vocally and instrumentally, complementing Klamut’s high-ish, slightly cracking, somewhat gravelly voice perfectly. She comes in ever so faintly, almost like a friendly ghost. There’s something of early Fleetwood Mac at play here—along with countless indie rock post-folk singer-songwriters and acoustic duos. But these two are even more spare than their compatriots. And Klamut doesn’t really have the strongest of voices. But that only drives home the tenuousn ess of the lyrics, which are at once semi-declarative and uncertain: “Let me . . . drink . . . go . . . see . . . live.” They are equal parts seeking (life, enlightenment, joy, hardship, darkness, surprise) and supplicative. It’s tempting to read these words through the prism of Klamut being a priest and Luong being a longtime Christian, but that’d be typecasting. And unfair. If anything, their faith (which seems to gain its strength from its doubt) and their questioning essence makes their music all the more impressive and unique.

Tampa Winter Break SJO Trip

Today, the Christmas season ends with the feast of the Baptism of the Lord. Jesus is baptized by John, and receives a loving affirmation from God, who says before all: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Jesus is reminded of his identity: He is the Father’s Son, he is loved, he belongs to the Father.  He is pleasing to the Father.

We all need to know that God is our Father, he loves us, and is pleased with us. When we are baptized, this is exactly what happens.  Jesus then goes to the desert for forty days, where he is tempted by the devil.  But Jesus doesn’t fall for it.  He knows his identity.  He knows who he is...and whose he is.

The devil tells Jesus to be somebody, to assert himself, to prove himself.  But Jesus has no need for it.  He has the Father’s love and approval.  What else does he need?  The devil’s promises are revealed as hollow and false, and Jesus easily rejects them.

Jesus receives his mission at his baptism.  His baptism is his commissioning for his ministry.  He will go forth as God’s anointed one to free the prisoners, liberate the oppressed, open the eyes of the blind, and announce the year of favor, the time of jubilee rejoicing.  The time of God’s victory has arrived.

At our baptism, we too receive a mission.  We are drawn into Jesus’ life and mission and invited to share in his victory.  Sometimes we forget this.  Sometimes baptism is simply our “get into heaven free” pass.  Sometimes we think it’s simply about our own salvation, forgetting that we have a mission, a purpose, a plan from God, a plan involving others.  We are commissioned to put faith into action to spread the victory of Jesus and serve others, making the world better.

This past week I had the privilege of putting my faith into action with ten students... and one nun!  Our St John’s Service and Justice Outreach (SJO) took a mission trip to Tampa to serve children, the poor, and the homeless.  We experienced the joy of serving others.  In the process, friendships were formed and deepened, lives were shared, and faith was deepened.  Our hearts were renewed by acts of love.  We witnessed and shared the victory of Jesus.

The first night, after some drama over the rental van, we joined in celebrating the funeral Mass of Dave Varette, a longtime Salesian brother who began his life as an orphan taken in by the Salesians, and ended up giving his whole life by serving among them.

Tuesday we picked up 150 donated sandwiches from the our friends at the Village Inn and served them to the homeless at Pinella’s Hope.  Started by the local bishop and run by Catholic Charities, Pinella’s Hope has hundreds of tents where homeless people live as they transition back into jobs and self sufficiency.  It’s truly a hand up, rather than a hand out.  We shared lunch and conversation with many of the residents, who told us about their lives.  They shared their stories without self pity or anger.  In fact, most of them expressed gratitude to God and others for the blessings in their lives.  Afterward, we moved a bunch of old doors from one warehouse to another.

Wednesday, we went to Villa Madonna school and spent the day with the students and teachers there.  I had the fun of playing guitar and singing songs with fourth, sixth, and seventh graders.  After school we helped out with the Boys and Girls club, serving snacks and playing with the children from the neighborhood.  It was moving to see the care and tenderness offered these kids, and their carefree happiness as they played in this safe space.

Thursday and Friday, we served at Metropolitan Ministries, a major advocacy center for the greater Tampa community.  2200 meals a day are prepared and sent out to various sites, along with hundreds more for locals and residents, mostly families struggling to get back on their feet after various misfortunes and difficulties.  We worked in the kitchen, the warehouse, and the clothing center.  On Friday, a group of us quartered over 100 chickens.

Each night, we went back to Mary Help of Christians, a large Salesian complex including a school, a boys and girls club, and a residence for senior priests.  There, we were offered hospitality and love.  We enjoyed an evening meal together and then we shared about our experiences amid quiet prayer and adoration.  One evening we went to confession. Another evening was spent aboard a dinner cruise around Tampa Bay.  We sat on the deck and sang Mumford and Sons song, loving life and each other amid evening temperatures in the 70's.

We began the week as mostly strangers.  By the end, God had knit us together as a community.  He formed us into a people after his own loving image.  We got to experience first hand the truth of Gandhi’s words, that the surest path to happiness is to lose oneself in service of others.

I have the feeling that our group will be friends for a very long time to come.  We shared the joy of serving others, moved by the love of Jesus Christ.  We prayed, laughed, and shared life together.  We grew in faith and love.  We lived out our identity as God’s beloved children. We lived our commissioning to put our faith into action by spreading the God’s love to those less fortunate.  We saw the victory of Christ made visible through powerful and effective agencies of service and love for others.  We like to think that we left Tampa a little better than we found it.  We certainly found ourselves better off than when we began.

On today’s feast of the Baptism of the Lord, I pray that each of us will hear the voice of God once again, saying, “You are my beloved son, my beloved daughter, in whom I am well pleased.”  I pray that we will embrace our sharing in Jesus’ mission by going forth to put our faith into action and serving others.  I pray that the victory of Jesus will spread through our actions and through our love.

I want to personally thank Conor, Nino, Dominic, Tyler, Ellie, Hanna, Kristen, Caroline, Molly, Anne, and, of course, Sister Maryann.  Sharing this week with each of you was what made it so special and beautiful.  You are a gift to St John’s and to the people of Tampa.  You have all become my dear friends.  You are witnesses to me of what it means to serve and to love.  I am so blessed to be a Newman chaplain getting to interact with young people like you. Thanks be to God, and thanks to all of you!