An ear-piercing story: The sequel

Satan can’t speak, or so says Fr. Tadeusz, one of the priests at St. Peter Roman Catholic Church in Greeley.

Since the Prince of Lies is bereft of the power of speech, says the priest, the Devil can only scream or cause what we hear as “static.”

Culturally, we experience this noise almost everywhere, almost constantly. For example, in one restaurant we frequent, a radio station is usually playing country music – while simultaneously a television set drones stupidly.

I seem to be the only one who notices the overlaid clack. Eventually, I become emboldened and walk across the room and climb up on a chair to turn the television set volume off. At least that leaves us with only half of the media murmur.

Cell phones create a barrage of annoying sounds that apparently don’t bother anyone but me. The “individualized” ringtones have worn thin. How ‘bout them cowgirls.

People don’t seem to hear their own children howling in church – or banging wooden toys against hardwood pews. They’re accustomed to so much noise they don’t hear the racket made by their own children.

Cars by the dozen carry drivers and passengers to businesses in our neighborhood, boom-boom bass “music” deafening the rest of us. There is a “noise ordinance” in Greeley, but the police find it nearly impossible to enforce.

Is the Devil the source of this noise? Doesn’t matter, he likes the result. He can’t speak, but he can make static. We’re deaf, deafened, and don’t know it. Am I the only one with a hearing problem? Not necessarily.

My blogosphere friend “The Dude” writes:

“Could it be the anatomy of the ear? I love sporting events, concerts, live events. Unfortunately, I've sustained a severe enough injury to my inner ear to make attending such events risky.

“I learned of the problem while I was at a Giants game. The crowd let out a sustained, unified roar. One ear went silent. Then my ear began to ring. Then there was discomfort. Both physical and psychological.

“The ringing continued for hours. It was quite disturbing. It became impossible to hear anyone speaking on my right. And the pain. A slight nausea set in. I persevered. It has recurred, infrequently. I persevere.”

Two similar reports of hearing damage were reported during a family outing in Brighton last weekend. Both resulted from “referee” whistles. Nephew Andy said an official at a roller derby event blew a whistle within inches of his ear. He was essentially deaf for some time, but seems better now.

Niece Nicole said another staffer at the school where she works blew a whistle signaling the end of recess. Blew it within inches of her ear. She was essentially deaf for some time, but seems better now. (Is this is beginning to sound familiar?)

Responding to my story of last week about having my hearing damaged by a singer in church, my dear friend Maureen wrote: “We heard this same voice at the 8:30 Mass. It lifted my spirit to where you were in your prayer.

“Music is a huge expression of our love, worship and praise of God with which I think you agree. Perhaps you were looking forward to hearing your wife's beautiful voice and were more than a little disappointed that it was not her voice you were hearing.

“I thought (the singing of the soloist) was uplifting and beautiful.”

The late great Fr. Bud Raney would admit privately that he really preferred saying Mass when there was no music at all. Considering his long career as a priest, you can most likely understand how he came to that preference, though you might disagree.

My second cousin David wrote, “I've learned over the years that worship has very little to do with music. One of the biggest mistakes the modern church makes is trying to please everyone with the music.

“I was a worship pastor for about eight years and heard these comments almost every Sunday . . . the music was too loud, the music wasn't loud enough, the music was too slow, too fast, too much drums, too wordy, to lengthy, too short ... blah, blah, blah.

“The point is that I always thought my charge was to bring God’s people to the throne, that place you described in your story . . . the place where the music disappears and it’s just you and God alone in the secret place.

“It’s not mystical, it’s spiritual and has nothing to do with the music. It all takes place in the heart and comes from the inside out, not outside in.

“If it’s not pleasing to the ear it’s a distraction. My real job was to get out of the way and become invisible. It’s a tough or impossible task. But I feel for ya.”

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The Brighton visit centered around a baptism at St. Augustine Catholic Church. Two children were baptized, my grand-nephew Ignatius and a little character in a natty white suit.

The little guy, who could easily have passed for Hervé Villechaize, “Tattoo” on Fantasy Island, kicked, hit, squirmed and screeched during the entire ritual. Ungodly ear-piercing screeches. ‘Nuff said.

And me? I’m like The Dude or my family members. I haven’t experienced deafness, but I had discomfort, pain and uneasiness.

Since that Sunday, I’ve been wearing cotton plugs in my ears, and I don’t go outside without folding down the flaps on my winter hat.

I did suffer physical damage to my ears, to my hearing. It’s a very real injury – trust me. I’m not happy about that. My hearing ought to be safeguarded, especially in church.

To help prevent a recurrence, I’ve begun carrying a set of earplugs. Sorry folks, but my hearing is more important to me than uplifting screeching.

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Word of the Week: Clack. It’s from Middle English, clacken, an echoic sound. It’s also spelled “claque,” meaning clatter.

Today, clack is an abrupt, sharp sound. Doesn’t sound like anything that could be called meditative. Satan loves clack. He can’t speak, so he makes clack. Or static. Or screeching.

He also likes the sound of weapons of war being discharged, like in a church in Baghdad. But that’s a yarn for another time.