The Slaying of Marsyas

by Richard Titlebaum

The Slaying of Marsyas as a Theme of Humility.

Marsyas, a satyr and superb player of the woodland flute was of such expertise that the nymphs, naiads, shepherds, and all the gentle creatures of the forest often drew near in silence to listen to the beautiful melodies that came forth form Marsyas and his instrument. Marsyas grew proud and boasted that he could out-play even the Lord of Music and all the Arts: the God of the Sun, Apollo. Apollo, hearing of this boast came to Marsyas who did indeed challenge the greatest of all musicians. A bargain was sealed: the winner should have the privelege of using the loser in whatever manner he chose. All of Olympus and the great City of Athens drew nie for this auspicious concert, and the Senate of Athens should decide the winner. Marsyas played as he had never played before, moving all, even Apollo, to smiles and then tears with the sweetness and sorrow of his air. With great and final flourish he finished and bowed. Great applause thundered in the vale until Apollo loosed his cloak and drew forth his lyre to play. As the Sun slowly sank behind the God, radiating all about him, there poured forth from his dulcete harp and nimble fingers the stories of Men and Gods from the beginning to the end of time. The strains rose and filled the Air as if the youthful God were riding upon his firey chariot across the dome of heaven, racing here, resting there, until as surely as the sun does set the music slowly, softtly drew to its sweet honey close until all was still as death. The hush that fell across the vale found all who listened, even Marsyas, so moved as to be unable to even speak. One could only let the glow of warmth and fleeting beauty flush over ones flesh with the utter desire to be with this God of Youth and Lovliness. Slowly, all eyes moved with pity towards the visage of Marsyas, who knew without a vote that he was lost, lost indeed. Apollo raised this head and the cool Saphirre of his eyes sought and found the wells of the eyes of the mortal Satyr. Marsyas found no pity there and made no cry as he was bound upside down to a great black oak. Apollo, wielding now not his harp but a silvered blade of exquisite wrought and finish, approached... and thus, poor Marsys learned as his skin was slowly cut from his flesh that one does not challenge a God of Olympus.

Vive la France!

Liberte! Fraternite! Egalite! Bastille Day, 14 July 2006

Eulogy for A Mother

There is an incredible saddness in my heart now at the New York Supreme Courts anti-gay marriage decision. It feels as though I'm at the death of my AMERICA and what SHE stands for - for our human and civil rights are being hijacked by groups of men and women who wish to make this a religious issue, and a referendum and not - not - what it is: an issue of the civil rights of hundreds of thousands of American citizens.

We gays, lesbians, transgendered and bisexuals are Gods Children, too. WE ARE CITIZENS from every class, every ethnicity, every faith and none, every political calling. We, as gay men and women, cross every societal boundary and every economic level - we are a part of EVERY American family. Every family has been gifted by God with our freely given spirits and for those whose hatred or moral sense must deny us inclusion and equality I say to them each and every one - WE ARE YOUR FAMILY> Your brother or sister, your Mom or Dad, your Grandma or Aunt, your Uncle, your adoipted son.... it doesn't matter whom, it simply matters it IS: that for God in His wisdom He has given us to all of YOU and society. As you are given to us to love and cherish, too.

And I believe, after reflection and prayer that He has a good good reason for that broadly painted pallette - because we have been given a challenge, to teach if you will, this world: now, in this time, that to love as Jesus does MEANS WE must EMBRACE ALL of the flock, all the poor imigrants, the rights of women, the rights of the African and Hispanic Americans and yes even the rights of homosexuals, ALL KINDS. It is THIS SIMPLE: we are each a gift from God, we are the talens given to this society. Will you bury us, or hide us 'neath a bushell basket? Will you throw us upon weed filled rows or will you, with every fiber of your being, bring us, your gay brothers and sisters, to bear our fruit upon the fertile soil of your inclusive love?? Will you??

We are sent to you by Jesus Christ as His challenge to you: do you stand for inclusive, generousity and fairness in the treatment of all peoples - and , yes, even us Faggots? Do you? You've got to decide. I will respect your choice - even if it is against me. But, I ask you, if I'm right, and this challenge is not nearly so much for those of us being wrongly martyred or cheated of our health care or stripped of legal rights to see our partners, or even those whove been tied and then beaten on fences, or even granting the one bond we ask, the one bond of marriage - which would help heal so many others, No, it's not about these.

If I'm right, I do believe this TEST is real and IT IS NOW: now of and for the greater people of God, the faith based Churches - and how will they treat, bear witness and choose to treat those whom, whether Queers and Fags or Trannies and Dykes now ARE NOW, IN this countryt,AMERICA, deemed the least of His Bothers? I will tell you it is a simple word which carries from our tongues to our hearts an enormous burden. (We'll need to carry it together to even move it, I think,) IT TRIPS EASILY OFF OUR LIPS UNTIL - BANG! Suddenly the reality of the word - the doing of it, is a TALL REQUEST> We wonder how we miht do less, for it is painful....but it is not a scary burden, or a wrongful burden, it is Christ's Calvary in some ways and His most glorious resurection in others, for neither your Faith nor your Hopeit is the greates of all these, NO it is sweet humble charity. Yes, Charity, that incredible monstrously wonderful word, heaven sent us as as the greatest of all commandments. CHARITY ! Charity... sweet, gentle charity .... My darlings, all charity is is LOVE!!

Soon I will be arriving for a funeral for my Mother - if not next month then in six months, but it is coming and when I arrive I wish simpley to embrace my family, and my dear mother, ask of them each their forgiveness and allow me to forgive them for those silly injuries we've so fluently sailed back and forth these many years. And then celebrate at Mass, the celebration of my Mom's entrance into heaven with all her beloved saints, family friends, Dearest Mother Mary and of course Our Dear God in His Three3 Persons: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. I want that great moment of the end of suffering for you, my dearest Mother. To be free in Joy to Love as purely as you ever shall, and now for always.

Grant this Churcch, this community both here and all those around this hate filled world, to pause, reflect and consider. We all know ones we've lost - to war, to AIDS, to shootings, to suicide to diseases rampant: so many hurt and lost men and women - please remember they are to Jesus STILL his little children - let us send them, gently stroking there hair and aising them to stumble forward, to His knees, as He requested. Forget not His admonition to not hurt one of them, the least of his Children - and don't be hesitant just because the ages of these precious children are as often 79 or 41 as they are 4 or 11, have no DOUBT THEY, WE are all HIS CHILDREN just as YOU, and YOU, and yes, even ME!. How good that is - how good to know I AM HIS CHILD.

I heard a glorious Negroe Spiritual sung for a bejeweled drag queen at her funeral - you may know it, Angels in America. - a magnificent issuance of God's Word, (he still speaks when we will listen you know) And the chorale sang about him being His Child, Baby Jesus Child. And the glorious over the top ceremony beribboned and jolly shown the great joy of this man's precious life.God, I loved that - to be loved upon ones death with such joy and happiness, it speaks of a life very well lived.

My Mama, the Irish woman with a temper as red as her auburn hair, has take that step, just one slight small step, before she was swept into the arms of her deaerst father, brother, spirit - her God! How I envy her that joy - no, envy is selfic=sh, and I have no selfish need for it - yet. Sp, what is the word? How I Praise Him for bringing her Home at last. No more pain, no more suffering and lots and lots of premium ice cream!

I love you Mom. Touch me, touch our family and our families friend here now - with the grace and love purified by Jesus. We love you, and not to long away, we'll see you soon, again. You taught me Charity - to love. My family, even when we are distant, my friends even when they make me nuts, the religious right and the Republicans, even when they forget 'CHARITY" in a manner which is just to big, way, way too big.