As usual, it appears, I am late to discover this one. In this case, rediscover. A friend reminded me of a marvelous band, the Hillbilly Thomists. This unique group, composed of Catholic priests who are Dominican friars, has several albums of bluegrass music that simply shine.
As Carrie Gress wrote last year on her website Theology of Home, “Their music evokes joy, mirth, creativity, and faith through compelling rhythms and rich lyricism…Like redeemed pied pipers, their joy and mastery of music are doing what few catechetical program can do – allowing the masses to see the faith afresh with new eyes and ears.”
The name, as the band’s website explains, comes from Flannery O’Connor, who said, “Everybody who has read Wise Blood thinks I’m a hillbilly nihilist, whereas I’m a hillbilly Thomist.” By Thomist, O’Connor was referring to followers of St. Thomas Aquinas and his philosophical view.
What the Hillbilly Thomists offer more than anything, in a world of manufactured noises assembled into “songs” that “hook” you is joy and light. It is so different from the ordinary listening fare available.
When you’ve been out of touch with pop culture for a while, it can be jarring to encounter the mainstream again. Between the needs of children, the chores of daily life, and occasional work projects, weeks or months pass when I have no contact with “popular” music. Listening to it is a shocking experience.
Years ago, while in the car I turned on a once-popular radio station. It had become a defacto “oldies” station for music from the early 2000s, blasting hits of yesteryear. Even these are truly shocking when you have defrosted from the perpetual numbness of desensitization. Listening to Eminem say in menacing tones, “If she ever tries to f***in’ leave again, I’ma tie her / To the bed and set this house on fire.” Stunned by this re-immersion in the everyday grotesquery of contemporary music, I wondered in what world it is prudent to have such filth broadcast on the public airwaves. This is not helping people.
How different it is to listen to the Hillbilly Thomists soulfully sing “Love is patient / Love is kind / It does not boast / It does not rely upon itself / Make me patient / Make me kind / Take my love / May it not run dry.” To hear a voluntarily celibate man proclaim a desire to be made “patient” and “kind,” to surrender to divine life rather than giving over to the libido dominandi, wow, what a different experience.
Of course, if you live in a city of several million, the place to enjoy “Love Is Patient” is in gnarly traffic. An abstract meditation becomes a real-life, real-time invitation to love in an imperfect world.
