Würzburg, Part IV— The Cathedral 1945 - 2008

…And then 1945.

On the night of 16 March 1945 226 Lancaster Bombers of the RAF reduced this magnificent house of God to rubble in 17 minutes. The medieval city center was engulfed in a firestorm which killed 5000 people in as much time. 90% of the city smoldered in ruins. Fortunately, some artwork was preserved— the bell of 1257 which was moved into the crypt, St. Kilian’s Book of Gospels which he brought from Ireland nearly 1300 years before (housed in the University Library) etc. Proportionately, Würzburg was more completely destroyed than Dresden to the east.

In another sickening twist of fate a month later…much of the state and ecclesiastical archives were moved for safekeeping to the castle at Wässerndorf (next to Seinsheim) in the country. Among other things, prosperous segments of the Diocese of Würzburg had kept exquisite and thorough sacramental records dating back to the beginning of the 16^th century— exceptionally rare considering the Council of Trent did not mandate this practice until decades later that century. Following the death of an American officer USAF P-47 Thunderbolts firebombed the area and ground troops torched the castle on 5 April 1945. The building burned for days and most records were lost.

In the winter of 1946 most of the remaining sections of the Kiliansdom collapsed. Over the next two decades countless Trümmerfrauen (‘Rubble-women’) carefully rebuilt and replicated much of the historical city.

There were three reconstruction proposals for the cathedral. The winning bid was taken in 1960 and the building was completed in 1967 incorporating what it could of the previous structure. A splendid historically-informed organ by Klais arrived in the gallery in 1969.

The choir was set up as the presbytery, and the cathedra relocated in the apse. The remaining stucco was preserved and renovated, while the flat nave ceiling received modern painting by Fritz Nagel. A bulk of the responsibility and decision making for this courageous and pioneering design came from Bishop Julius Döpfner and builder Hans Schädel. And, finally…the main altar was relocated to the crossing!

As mentioned above, one bell survived WWII— the Lobdeburg bell of 1257. The others melted. In 1965 eleven new bells were cast by Schilling of Heidelberg. The largest bell at nine tons is aptly inscribed: “JESV CHRISTE - SALVATOR MVNDI VENI CVM PACE - ANNO DOMINI MCMLXV” (Jesus Christ - Savior of the world, come in peace - In the year of our Lord 1965). Since 2000 the bells have been controlled by a computerized system.

The last couple decades have seen some additional work: in 1987 Hubert Elsässer added paintings depicting the history of the Faith in Franconia and in 2006 a new bright exterior painting brought the exterior closer to its original color. The cathedral is today a unique mix of Romanesque, Baroque, and Modern elements.

2008 saw the 160^th anniversary of the German Bishop’s Conference which first met in Würzburg in 1848 and quite appropriately reconvened there this year. On Monday 12 February more than 70 cardinals, archbishops, and bishops came together for Mass with Karl Cardinal Lehmann in the Kiliansdom. The outgoing Cardinal Chairman offered high praise for the diocese: "Wurzburg is a good place and a home for the Church in our country."

Also this spring eight new bells from the Rudolf Perner foundry of Passau were added, brining the total to 20. The Kiliansdom presently has the largest peal in Germany. It was dedicated on 22 May, this year. Check out this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eveLP_-_KIA

Würzburg, Part III— The Cathedral 743 - 1945

Würzburg’s Kiliansdom stands as a lesson in stone— just leave buildings alone, even if you don’t like them. Architectural styles come and go and one often becomes the whipping-boy of the next. In the end, however, a building is a representation of its era. There is no timeless style. Architecture is temporal; it exists in time because it is physical. Having an intact structure as a humanistic record (if not a theological one as well) is far better than well-intended ‘wreck-o-vations’ or just plain out smoldering wrecks. This seems hard for some people to grasp in the US— we have had the luxury of stability and the good fortune of a relatively small span of Western heritage to preserve (a few hundred years on the coasts/southwest and much less for the rest of us). Our complicit lethargy engenders foolish quibbling. A brief turn about Dresden, London, Coventry, etc. anytime in the last 60 years will get one’s priorities in order! http://www.dom-wuerzburg.de/

Bishop Burkhard established the first provisional Cathedral of Würzburg at the preexisting Marienburg Church in 743. The first purpose-built cathedral followed four decades later. Bishop Berowelf (episcop. 769 - 800) dedicated the new Cathedral of Christus Salvator in the presence of Charlemagne in 788. The bones of the three city patrons, martyred 100 years before and venerated since papal approval in 752 (when they were found buried in a stable), were moved to the new church.

This Frankish structure was renowned for its size, much like Köln later. Sadly, on 5 June 855 a lightning strike burned down most of the building and a storm three days later caused the remaining walls to collapse. Bishop Arn (855 - 892) built a third cathedral which burned again in 918. This time the fire destroyed numerous liturgical artifacts and documents. Between 855 and 1045 this Carolingian church was redesigned several times.

Under Bishop Bruno (1034 - 1045) the cathedral was redone in 1040 using older parts. Inspired by the work at the Speyer Cathedral the expansion plans included a pair of towers flanking the choir, a reconstruction of the transept, and the building of a larger nave with square twin-towers in the west front as well as a triangular pediment between. Bruno died as a result of an accident at a dinner party during the time of the construction on the choir. He was later canonized.

The crypt was consecrated simultaneous with Bruno’s burial by Bardo, Archbishop of Mainz on 16 June 1045. Bruno's successor Adalbero continued construction until completion 1075. Due to its external dimensions and superb architectural quality the new Cathedral of St. Kilian was one of the most impressive monuments of the time. This Bruno-Adalbero cathedral retained mere fragments of the older church— two of the capitals from the portals were removed to the crypt.

Bishop Embricho (1127 - 1146) charged master builder Enzelin in 1133 to "restore and beautify" the cathedral— especially the roof which was "almost in ruins" (always a problem in big buildings)! Besides the restoration work he extended the west towers and transformed the choir adding vaulted spans which were still preserved under the 18th Century stucco.

Bishop Gottfried von Spitzenberg (1186 - 1190) had three altars built in 1188. Each served a different purpose and effected liturgical segregation. During the high Mass with choir they used main altar; during parish level celebrations they used their own altar. This practice persisted for centuries!

In 1225 Bishop Hermann von Lobdeburg (1225 - 1254) remodeled the eastern section— notably completing a central dome. By 1250 Würzburg’s Cathedral took its final shape.

At 105 meters this building was the fourth largest Romanesque structure in Germany; a masterpiece of Salian architecture.

If the Kiliansdom represented the Romanesque well then it was high time for Gothic! In 1500 the aisles were transformed with rib vaulting with elaborate caps. The middle pediment between the towers of the western front was heightened and crowned in 1507 with a dainty clock.

During the Counter-Reformation in 1610 the city council commissioned Michael Kern to build an elaborate pulpit on southern side of the nave. Under Prince-Bishop Johann Gottfried von Aschhausen (1617 – 1623) the rood screen was removed in 1619.

Then came the Baroque craze in 1701! Previous renovations were nothing compared to this. Prince-Bishop Johann Philipp von Greiffenclau (1699 – 1718) approved several proposals from the Milan-born plasterer and architect Pietro Magno. Michael Rieß and Johann Balthasar engaged numerous renowned artists and craftsmen to the task. They moved the choir from the crossing to the east end and crowned the altar with a wide and rich golden baldachin. The picture is a 1731 proposal by J.L. von Hildebrand. Good Lord!

Between 1879 and 1883 Friedrich Friedreich oversaw a Neo-Romanesque overhaul of the façade, focusing on the gable, pediment, and portals. The photo here comes from a postcard of 1904.

Würzburg, Part II— Some Notable Figures

Shortly after St. Burchard/Burkard arrived in 741, Karlmann, the Frankish mayor of the palace, bequeathed a large amount of land to the diocese. The bishops dutifully continued to push for Christianizing Saxony. The nobles, in turn, showered them with real estate and free residence at the Marienburg fortress over the city.

By the early 750’s Würzburg’s bishops were well on their way to wielding great secular power in their own right! Indeed they would be Fürst-bischof or “Prince-bishop” over a growing swatch of land until the secularization of 1803. Through the Middle Ages and Renaissance numerous bishops saw great players in the arts and humanities in their town— Albertus Magnus, O.P., the philosopher; Mathias Grünenwald, the painter; etc. For centuries the Würzburg bishopric was a state of the Franconian Circle, an Imperial Circle of the Holy Roman Empire. The University was founded in 1402— one of the oldest in German speaking lands. Unfortunately it initially floundered because of financial and cultural instability. (Those humanists!) Johannes Trithemius, abbot of a local monastery, wrote in 1506 that the failure was due to "bathing, love, brawling, gambling, inebriation, squabbling and general pandemonium [which was] ...'greatly impeding the academic achievement in Würzburg.'" And who said collegiate rowdiness came with the sexual revolution of the 1960's? Apparently good hygiene is the real culprit. Oh, and in 1423 a student's assistant fatally stabbed the first Chancellor Johann Zantfurt.


Perhaps Würzburg’s most famous residents/prelates were the Schönborn family (as in Christoph Cardinal Schönborn, present Archbishop of Vienna). In the 17^th and 18^th centuries Würzburg had three Schönborn bishops. Most notably two brothers/bishops, Johann Philipp Franz and Friedrich Karl von Schönborn, oversaw the construction of the indulgent Würzburg Residenz between 1720 and 1744. Architects Johann Lukas von Hildebrandt and Maximilian von Welsch designed this new palace for the bishops. Balthasar Neumann created the famous Baroque staircase. Its Hofkirche and stairwell frescoes (the largest in the world) by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo shine as some of the most opulent (nearly grotesque!) examples of rococo one can find! Quite appropriately this structure sits on the UNESCO World Heritage Site roster. http://www.residenz-wuerzburg.de/englisch/residenz/index.htm

18^th Century bishop Adam Friedrich von Seinsheim (episcop. 1755-1779) oversaw major redesign of the Residenz palace gardens— as well as work on landscaping at his suffragan see and subsidiary residence at Bamberg to the east. Von Seinsheim was from an old noble family that, as the name suggests, traced its roots to nearby market town of Seinsheim (my family’s home) with one Erkinger who died in 917. Of course, as these things go, Adam Friedrich’s mother was a Schönborn. This made the Schönborn bishops his uncles.

The Von Seinsheim family itself has died out in 1917 but it persists in one branch— the House of Schwarzenberg. The Schwarzenberg’s had significant fiefdoms in Bohemia and owned a number of palaces, notably the Palais Schwarzenberg in Vienna. Construction on this marvelous baroque structure began in 1697 and it is now a hotel— owned by the family, of course!

More recently, and more secularly, Wilhelm Röntgen, discovered X-rays at the University of Würzburg in 1895.

Würzburg, Part I— The Church in Unterfranken

Everyone knows Berlin. Everyone knows Frankfurt. Everyone knows Köln. What about Würzburg? I certainly had a vested interested in acquainting myself with this locale as my family was only a few kilometers away laying bricks for God-knows-how-many centuries! Despite my personal interest (or anyone’s) it always seems that in the small world of European political and cultural cross-pollination everything is connected, every place has played a part.

This spot in the world came under the Roman influence when Winfrid of Crediton (St. Boniface) was still a wee lad over in Wessex. Details are scarce, but apparently St. Kilian, the patron of the diocese to this day, was born around 640 in Ireland or Scotland. Like many monks of the British Isles during the early middle ages he (and 11 companions) soon left to convert, ‘civilize,’ teach etc. on the continent. Thus in the 680’s he crossed over to Gaul, passed over the Rhine, and made his way up the Main valley ending up at the castle of Thuringian (Frankish) Duke Gozbert— pagan, of course.

After hanging around Gozbert for a while he decided to head to Rome in the summer of 686 to get some paperwork from the Pope to make his missionary status ‘official.’ When he returned after obtaining his faculties (he was a “regional bishop,” something like a vicar apostolic on the American frontier) his posse had thinned out and he was left with two companions: a priest Coloman, and a deacon Totnan.

Kilian converted Gozbert and soon spread Christianity with missionary zeal over Franconia (modern Northern Bavaria) and Thuringia just to the north. There was one problem, however— Gozbert’s wife Geilana was his brother’s widow. Kilian convinced the Duke that he ought to separate but the Duchess was not a fan. Again, the facts are nebulous, but on or around 8 July 689, when Gozbert was away, Geilana had the three missionaries murdered. (The earliest full scholarly exploration of St. Kilian is Der heilige Kilian, Regionarbischof u. Martyrer. Franz Emmerich. Würzburg, 1896).

But alas, they had already become a Christian family! Gozbert’s son Hetan built a church dedicated to Mary at the castle and thus the fortress was thereafter called Marienburg. In 704 we see for the first time the Latin designation Castellum Virtebuch for the city on the River Main below the fortress— the earliest presence of the name which has become Würzburg.

Now enters Winfrid, our more famous apostle to the Germans. Needless to say, he was caught in the midst of a political dynamic quite unlike his predecessor! Winfrid went to Rome in 718 where Pope Gregory II gave him the new name Bonifacius and sent him back north the following year, 719. Boniface noticed the residual influence of Kilian in Thuringia as he worked there as well as in Frisia and Hesse in the years following 719. In November 722 he moved up the ranks again as Pope Gregory II appointed him Bishop of the German lands.

Beginning in 723, Boniface came under the protection of Charles Martel and the Carolingians. This Frankish dynasty wanted to defeat their rival, pagan Saxons. When Boniface was made Archbishop of all German lands in 732 his clout and immense experience throughout the area over nearly 20 years became an asset for the Frankish nobles— though he personally had little to gain from this alliance. Nevertheless, his contemporary Daniel of Winchester pointed out that Boniface could “neither administer his church, defend his clergy, nor prevent idolatry” without his political protectors.

Not surprisingly, Charles Martel set to work establishing dioceses throughout Bavaria in the late 730s— Regensburg, Freising, Passau. They would surround and subdue the Saxons with political structure and Roman ecclesiastical order (perhaps inseparable then)!

Boniface himself received the Metropolitan see of Mainz in 745. As the Franks divided the land further into bishoprics moving north they allowed Boniface relative freedom in recommending/selecting his own bishops— so long as they would continue to push Christianity and be Frank-friendly vis à vis anti-Pagan Saxon. And so it was, no later than the summer of 741, that Boniface consecrated his friend and fellow-Englishman, Burchard as first Bishop of Würzburg. The red-tape was cleared and Pope Zachary confirmed the appointment and foundation of the diocese in a letter of 1 April 743.

87 bishops have followed down to the present day.

21 November- A Story for Today

Driving home from Lawrence I passed through the rolling hills of northeastern Kansas. Contrary to images conjured up by “Wizard of Oz” beautiful broken hills constitute much of the state. Moving towards the Missouri River, patches of timber and outcroppings of limestone peak through the soil. Ages of water racing to the sea carved out craggy bluffs which hover over the wide river. On a fine fall day it makes for a picturesque drive.

The human geography in that neck if the woods is no less interesting. The entire Missouri valley was long frequented by French Fur Trappers, and their ‘Half-Breed’ families. Many of the oldest towns in the area came out of this business— St. Joseph, MO was founded by Joseph Robidoux in 1843. The WASP settlers came in the 1850s. Bordering a slave state, plenty of conflict inevitably erupted. Atchison briefly had a pro-slavery newspaper. Bordering Missouri counties were hotbeds for Confederate sympathy before and after the war (including Jesse James’ family). German Benedictine Monks established an abbey in Atchison in 1857 and ministered to Irish immigrants. Then Germans came too.

By the time my family showed up Atchison County was long settled. I thought about these folks today as this is the 126^th anniversary of their marriage. Both came from relatively unusual circumstances…at least considering our contemporary stereotypes of period values. We pine for the ‘good old days’. We do it a lot— especially concerning religion, family values, welfare, patriotism, immigration, etc. Today seems an appropriate time to reflect.

Joseph Emmerich was born in a small but historically significant Bavarian village in August 1855. Though Seinsheim sits in a fertile wine growing region he and his forebears were traditionally stonemasons and bricklayers. According to tradition they participated in the renovation of the large medieval cathedral of Würzburg nearby. (Seinsheim had excellent records extending back to the early 1500’s but, sadly, everything was destroyed when the USAF firebombed the area at the end of WWII).

When Joseph was 17 his family got wind of a forthcoming military appointment. So, naturally, he booked it for America in 1872. Tradition has it that our draft-dodger was a stowaway. Sure enough he shows up on no ships’ lists. Interestingly, one “Josef Emerich” does appear but that one appears to be Jewish— hardly helping the ‘mainstream’ argument. (I do, nevertheless, suspect Semitic roots in this branch, however, from other sources… but I digress).

Joseph drops off the map until 1880 when he surfaces in rural Atchison County, KS near Effingham. His father and siblings came over and joined him. They worked as stonemasons around small commercial quarry operations. One source hints that Joseph lived in Missouri prior to settling in Kansas. It was there that I suspect he met his wife…which brings me to Louise.

Louise Breitenwischer was born in March 1862 in Carondelet, MO, a bustling river town immediately to the south of St Louis. When she was born there were slaveholders in the neighborhood. By the time she died 90 years later we had atomic weapons and neon lights. She reportedly didn’t talk much about her family during her long life. I can understand why. Louise was illegitimate— her father a German Lutheran and a severe alcoholic, her mother French Catholic.

To be fair her grandmother was also born to a single mom. The village moral authority of 1815 could not have looked kindly upon “inconnu” or “unknown” scribbled in under “father’s name”! The great-grandmother in turn was born in exile— their family dislodged from their Rhenish border-town by Austrian troops coming to the aid of Monarchists during the Reign of Terror in the 1790s. It was not easy for them.

Within a five year range of 1882 things looked pretty bad for Louise. Both her parents, her remaining grandparents, and most of her aunts and uncles all died from alcoholism, alcohol related accidents or tuberculosis. The City of St Louis had annexed Carondelet and the family home was now wedged between the Mississippi, a shipyard, RR, and a sewage ditch which drained most of the city.

But there’s no hand up like a “hand-out.” Louise’s brother Frederick had saved $500— a handsome sum for 1882. He gave her the money so she would have a chance to get out, get married, and have a good life. (As an aside, Fred and his family came out alright— this particular anecdote was passed to me by a descendant, a daughter of one Busch Stadium organist and her husband a certain Cardinals player/Hall of Fame broadcaster).

And so it was that Louise got on a boat in the fall of 1882. It wound its way over 300 miles up the Missouri to Atchison, KS. Shortly thereafter Joseph Emmerich and Louise Breitenwischer were married 21 November 1882 at St. Ann’s in Effingham.

They had two kids, one of whom was my great-grandfather. Joseph held numerous jobs from mason, to restaurant proprietor, to shoe repairman, to farmer. He did well enough to sit on the building committee for the new Catholic Church in Effingham in 1896. Sadly, that building was destroyed fire (suspected arson) in April 2008.

I didn’t go through Effingham on my way home from Lawrence. However, as I passed though the Missouri Valley I thought a great deal about all the life and stories those hills have witnessed. God Bless them all.

Chant and Doing Things the 'Right Way'

Last week I attended “Windows on Chant” at Kansas University. The Division of Organ and Church Music at KU http://www2.ku.edu/~organ/ hosts an annual thematic conference in the fall. This year’s gathering centered around the theory, history, and practice of Chant.

Drs. Michael Bauer and James Higdon put together a splendid program (as solid as the department over which they preside!) Two ‘heavy-hitter’ presenters took us through our time together. Fr. Anthony Ruff OSB lectured on the history of Chant, its revival and semiology and Susan Ferré addressed the practical component from a keyboard (organ) perspective.

It would have been difficult to find a more qualified American scholar of Chant than Fr. Ruff. He brings a bounty of experience and scholarship to the table— ranging from his life as a Benedictine to his Doctoral studies in the heart of the German semiological school at Graz. By all accounts his book Sacred Music and Liturgical Reform is a sober, formidable, and long-awaited balanced breath of fresh air (for the Catholic world).

The conference was well attended and Fr. Ruff pointed out that these days most Chant seminars are. Chalk it up to orthodoxy/conservativism/whatever you want to call it— it is unmistakably a trend. Among tradition-oriented crowds the motivation is particularly clear— this is getting back to our roots. And make no mistake that’s important. Vatican II was indeed quite clear about preserving the corpus of Sacred Music. However, nothing happens without a little irony.

As Fr. Ruff gave his talk on the history of Chant revival at Solesmes the funny business became clear. Call it a tale of two monks: after years of sparring with the Germans and bucking unfounded Papal endorsements of the Cecilians the French school of Chant interpretation took the lead (ca. 1903). But all was not well. The Solesmes monks all wanted to do the right/authentic thing…but they disagreed about what precisely that was. Infighting ensued.

Joseph Pothier suggested that rhythm should be driven by the text (oratorical). André Mocquereau supported a smooth equal rhythm. Mocquereau won that battle (as any person who sings Solesmes Chant knows). As it turns out, according to the current scholarly consensus (built upon a convergence of the best available sources), the wrong guy won. There were other disputes to be sure but this ironic incident represents a microcosm of historical performance practice debates and even historical research at large.

The principle? The first fruits of retrospective scholarship tend to miss the mark— and moreover, they often stick.

The axiomatic goal of historical research is to bring forth knowledge which can elevate and refine our present practices (most certainly for those which claim a historical flavor!) But what happens when misunderstandings, hasty conclusions or even flagrant disregard for sources leave us more Greek than the Greeks or “more Medieval than the Medievals?” (to borrow a line from Fr. Ruff). In other words, is there value to our imitation of historical styles if they are not, in fact, historical? The short answer (which I suspected and Fr. Ruff confirmed) is yes…but only through what I daresay is a modern concept of art criticism: judge it on its own terms— the “ars gratis artia.” This is nothing new in most circles but it may be tough medicine in some Catholic subgroups which see this pluralism as nothing more than applied moral relativism.

Fr. Ruff put it this way, “I grew up with the Solesmes Chant. The smooth, equalist flow has its own beauty and appeal [albeit a-historical]. I can appreciate that.” In fact, he went on to add that some of the most rigorous historically informed German renditions of chant are indeed a bit laborious! So where does this leave us? I don’t think there is a clear answer. We will always experience tension between historic authenticity and art for its own sake. Is St. Patrick’s in New York good Gothic architecture? No, it’s a wonderful neo-Gothic church. Do nineteenth-century tales of chivalry give us useful insights into medieval culture? No, they’re good Romantic literature.

We can’t ever recreate the past and even if we could it would never affect us the same way. Mozart will not sound the same to ears which have heard Bruckner and the Beatles. The power of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony escapes us thanks to a million TV commercials and an overused hymn. Nikolaus Harnoncourt put this well, “a deceptive cadence that one already knows no longer deceives, [it] no longer is a deceptive cadence.”

Therefore, Chanters beware! If you think that sixth of the hexachord in Ave Maria is a veritable transport to a 10^th century monastery, think again. Hartker, Notker, and John of St. Gall just might hear you with perplexed and furrowed brows.

The end of an era

Last night a friend asked me to place a bet on when the Presidential Election would be called. I don't particularly relish gambling (although I did win my money back at the boats this weekend) but I said what I thought.

I figured that everything would come together without much ado by 11 CST. A little last-minute statistical tip from a Gallup employee always helps!

It seems I made a reasonable guess.

I rather enjoy politics. I love the constant dialog, discussion and debate. I believe that a nation manifests its health in robust dispute. At the end of the day mutual respect prevails and we learn and grow.

I must admit, however, that these last few weeks have worn on me. It is time for 5 November. I am glad for tomorrow but nevertheless thankful for today.

Regardless of how I or anyone feels about the outcome this evening I believe that it points to at least one undeniable trend: our national identity is shifting.

I have traveled on something of a wild terrestrial and ideological journey over the last few months. Last Saturday morning I found myself planted at the kitchen table squarely across from my aunt.

Aunt D- came to town to review some paperwork for my grandmother's estate plan. She grimaced and griped, "Aren't you glad that you don't have to deal with this mess?" Lacking any context whatsoever I was perplexed. "What do you mean?" I queried. "You know, owning oil rights and real estate...all this paperwork, those taxes...I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

A real mess, indeed! I don't get too upset with Aunt D., however. Our minute conversation speaks volumes about her and all the people like her- and there are plenty. A born Texan, a bit ahead being a baby-boomer, and a life-long Midwesterner she has lived in a charmed world. Nothing has compelled her to engage the world all around her. She goes to the grocery store and then drives 20 miles to JC Penny's to pick up a pair of slacks. She watches the 'soaps' and Wheel of Fortune. She dusts all the furniture everyday and mows the lawn weekly. And, once a month, like clockwork, gets a pension check and a little oil royalty. That's the world. That was largely her parents' world. I understand.

But it's not mine.

America used to "Speak softly and carry a big stick." Then it yelled and smacked people with said weapon. Then, it was back to big sticks- giant nuclear ones and smooth, hard talk. Now everyone has big atomic sticks. What Dr. Strangelove predicted (with necessary sexy consequences) is disturbingly possible and hardly sexy in the least.

We have nukes, lots of other people with nukes, Russia, Iran, North Korea, a war, a faltering economy, dwindling oil, evaporating national resources and a world of countries who think as much of our policy as they do our current Commander in Chief. London gentlemen utter his name like a different kind of 4-letter word. I didn't believe it until I heard it myself.

I could roll my eyes. I could think of how we didn't used to need anyone and probably still don't. (We saved the French and Europe on D-day afterall!) I can rest rest on my laurels. I could just throw the newspaper in the trash and go to Penny's and pick up a pair of slacks... But the world has become to small and our capacity for evil has become too great.

I would hate to overstate the point, however. I'm not sure if it's ever possible to have a "global community." I believe 'community' has limits. It is concentrated. I merely believe we are more connected than ever. This is hardly a 'either...or' scenario. I see it as 'both...and.' Community can and indeed must remain intact in a global or post-national age. We need the sanity of balance. People seem to recognize this more and more.

The photo I added above has a grove of trees in the background. When my grandmother grew up in the years following World War I everyone came to that grove on hot summer days for picnics with watermelon in the shade. They were all Germans and mostly related. In the 20's exploration companies found oil all around. Many people got a little piece of the piece. They farmed, raised stock, and got a royalty check. It was a good life. For generations most of them lived in died within a few miles of where they started. And it worked.

I'm not jealous of that world. It worked and worked well for many. I'm grateful for mine and glad that we are beginning to see the difference.