It has been a while since I took the time to consider any issue in depth. One of the matters which comes around every year is Easter. It has always been a wonderful time of the year. I suppose you might say it is the beginning of my year since my birthday also falls on Easter – though it was unusually early. Easter, not my birthday.
Due to a bout of the flu, I have been ensconced in my home. I got stuck in on PG Wodehouse before the dreaded virus got a hold of me and I thought I might just continue, but frankly, a good belly laugh, er , any kind of laugh, belly or otherwise, is not permitted by the host virus. The odd film now and then during a recuperation is fine but it requires a passivity which is beyond my patience. I find that comedy and bloody horror does not suit the miasma in which on is wallowing. Let’s face it, even at the best of times but certainly n not when your head is in a blue funk and the runs is an ever present threat, one should not be stressing organs which should not be stressed. A sphincter should not be sphincting and stomachs should not be chortling. I need a middle way to divert myself.
The middle way is the Internet, surely. Unlike film-watching and book-reading, I must actually make decisions to get anywhere in this infernal contraption that is the WWW. Surfing the Internet is fun, up to a point. That point is some two hours later when it dawns upon your fevered brain that you are very far indeed from where you started. And to add hurt to injury, you are somewhere you do not want to be.
This happened to me yesterday. Yesterday was Holy Saturday which is to say it is has always been a day of joy. Certainly it is not a day in which I end up being ill and depressed without any assistance from the nasty bugs swimming around in my blood. Ever since my earliest memories of childhood, I recall that distinct apotheosis (surely, as a child the word never passed a neuron in my young febrile brain) of Easter. It was simple: death was conquered by life. I cannot say I understood it this way, back then, but it must have been so because my happiness during this Holy Week had no biological basis. An upside down view of the world, but innocent, surely. However it was very plausible, so my young eyes told me. To believe that He has died and He has risen, that the sadness of Friday can only followed by the hope of Saturday and the joy of Sunday was a natural as squeezing every ounce of life out of … well, life. All without knowing how it was done.
Since I was not able to go anywhere I decided to listen to Mozart’s Totenmesse or Requiem, a private annual ritual now going on some decades. Although I have countless versions of his Requiem as well as that composed by others (Laakkonen Requiem) I thought I might surf and find out whether there was anything out there which might catch my fancy. I found the following site: http://www.mozart-archiv.de/. What an absolutely fantastic gem! Do not be off-put by the fact that the home page is in German. Click on any link and you will understand what I mean.
I made the mistake (if that is what one should call it) of also looking on YouTube for something which might stir my soul. Händel´s Sarabande, I thought might do the trick. Sure enough. Kubrick´s Barry Lyndon version was to be heard. Then, the crux of my error. I wrote “Easter music from the Vatican” on the YouTube search box and got immediately hooked.
Rather than go describe all my perambulations I will submit a few links on which I paused for reflection. The very first page which caught my eye was the a site which asked : Who is Jesus anyway ? Christian Prince הנוצרالاسراء والمعراج
Interesting! The perfidy of the Internet but especially YouTube, is that once you got to a video you get a listing of other videos (hyperlinks) which the search engine suspects might interest you. It is evil. I got sucked in and clicked with wild abandon. Finally, I got a hold of myself by the scruff of the neck and searched for Mozart and got to listen to another well-mannered piece of music, a rather badly done Lacrimosa (Tearful). No, I could not stop there. I was like a shark with the scent of blood. More clicking got me to a site with tuneful music but the content was a tad worrying. The message was something about being liberated by wearing the hijab.
It all started to get fuzzy. Was it my illness or the disturbing material on YouTube? When I hit upon a disturbing video shown on Irish Television in which a young convert got her come-uppance from a true Muslim, I knew the daemon had sucked me in. Islam is not a religion of peace and Mohammed himself killed unbelievers, she is told. In effect, the message was, Sister, you keep you gob shut because you do not know what you are saying, or I will slap you down. However she did intervene at the end because her Christian upbringing squirmed into her shrouded head. She tried it on with the two apologists for terror and murder and got a finger wagging for her bravery. Good for her. Stupid girl.
The surfing took me to more places, ever more bizarre and disturbing. The face of the young girl, a baby, told me that all was not well with the world.
Then how I actually got to read up on gay Muslims is beyond me. I mean, I have more interest in how sheep are raised, in what is the price of pulp, who in the Parliament is sending indiscrete SMS messages to even more indiscrete recipients … I only say this because the something that caught the corner of my eye was…The gay world in Islam.
I finally decided that enough was enough and put on Händel´s Messiah and thought, if only … but then again they won´t, they do not want to understand. Händel does not speak to them. He could but their souls, all the people with whom I had virtual contact on the Internet today, are dark, washed over by hatred so bitter their lips curl when they sleep.
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