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a
Papuan bewildered (before he is thrilled)
in the midst
of
the laughing musicians
 Saturday 3d
April. The Parisian Arès Pilgrims' mission has a party to the music of
"Pious
Gens" (named after Rev of Arès
xLv/12-16), a group built up by Daniel, one of our brethen,
who sings of The Revelation of Arès
to a very trendy
music and rythm which in the end will thrill and delight me tonight.
You said "in the end"? Yes,I did, because the preparation of the
event and then the event itself have made me successively an innocent
primitive
Papuan in 2009, a surprised Papuan on April 3d at 07:15pm and a
delighted
Papuan at 10:30pm that same day.
I had for a few months been invited to join "Pious Gens" by Daniel,
their leader, and Jeff, one of his supporters. Both are brethen of
faith. The
starting idea: A spiritual mission that would share music and lyrics on
the
theme of The Revelation of Arès
plus
short speech(es) by Brother Michel. As I regarded myself as quite unfit
for such
a venture, it took me a few months to think over it.
In one respect, my brothers had never invited me to speak in public in
a surrounding
suited to my word's sacred nature, so I thought that being invited to
speak from
the midst of guitars, saxophones, piano, drum kit, singers and
vocalists, to a
public just there for fun and dance might be better than waiting until
I die
all by myself in my own little corner without speaking to the world.
In another respect, I could not play an instrument or sing or dance, so
I
wondered what an old man of God was able to do in a party hip or over
the top
(how do you put it?).
I eventually suggested the idea of an experimental musical party with a
public
limited: The Paris Arès Pilgrims and their guests. Experimental... a
kangaroo
hunter's precaution whispered into my ear by Aghela
(Rev of Arès xxxi/13), my accompanying angel who was well
aware that I had stayed very archaic, an old man continuously isolated
in prayers,
meditation and spiritual correspondence, by no means conscious of a
capital
fact, namely that I could not have a correct idea of what a brum! brum!
party might
be, just as a Papuan in the depths of his Papua New Guinea forest could
not have
a correct idea of what the USA is just by looking at a New York
postcard.
Saturday April 3d, 07:15pm. I enter the hall and immediately step back
mumbling,
"Bad luck! A power failure!" Somebody puts my mind at rest, "But
no, all's natural ! That's
done
in the dark." "Really?" I'm feeling my way along among prattling
shadows. A primitive Papuan caught in a sudden solar eclipse I am. God
isn't right
in the head, is He? I am offered a seat in the darkness and all of a
sudden, from
the far end of this dark forest a squadron of jets roaring, their
exhaust
nozzles in fire, their machine guns in action, irrupts flying low over
my
Papuan forest. The music has started. The singing follows, of which I
can't
catch a word at first. The audience, on the other hand, looks like they
got everything,
as comfortable as a commingling of earthworms in their tunnel. In this
Papuan
forest under a sun eclipse I can make out some shadows that wave to me,
but I
can't identify them. How can they identify me? I rather robotized wave
back to
the shadows.
After the first intermission the sound softens, so I can now understand
the
lyrics; they begin to delight me while I begin enjoying the music.
Much! Soon I
feel a craze for these music and song rising within me, I feel like a
strictly
brought up young man discovering the world's life, in this case an
artistico-spiritual
potential (there must be a better word: rock spiritual?). I sense the
entertainment
as an artistic expression rather specialized, indeed, designed for a targeted public, a young
public, not really an
entertainment fit for all ages and classes that an apostle expects to
meet, but
I guess that I'm going to think over it.
After the second intermission, I am asked to tell the audience
something. I step
onto the stage, bewildered, because anything that I could have prepared
to tell
will sound out of place here. So I improvise a short speech, that I
think is
consistent with the festivity spirit, and that, I hope, is not too much
for the
crowd in the dark in front of me.
In the end, as I said above, I quit this experience delighted. Had not
sister
Christiane, my wife, forced me to leave the place at 10:30pm on the
pretext
that my health could not endure more, I would have stayed there until
the party
was over and even danced... I mean I would have along with everybody
fidgeted, wriggled
around, squirmed—I don't know how to put it; in my youth one had to
either learn
how to waltz, tango, fox-trot perfectly or refrain from dancing...
Hence
my holding back from dance for 80 years.
In short, I
didn't see any
evil in that music and way of dancing or anything in the festive party.
Well
done, Parisian brethen! You made a success of the event! You allowed me
to check
something I had long suspected, that a popular entertainment is likely
to spread
the Creator's Word.
All in all, King David's psalms might have been in the old days no more
than the
songs that Daniel sings today while leading "Pious Gens", an excellent
group!
"Pious Gens", a name you have to remember! Just go and be at it
whenever
it's showing!
May the Father, the Great Hoper, bless all of those who sing of Hope
one way or
another, alleluia!
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