Cant (verb, intransitive)
To make whining pretensions to goodness; to talk with an affectation of religion, philanthropy, etc.; to practice hypocrisy; as, a canting fanatic. (1913 Webster)
The expression or repetition of conventional or trite opinions or sentiments; especially : the insincere use of pious words (Merriam Webster Online).
cant (noun)
The private language of the underworld
obsolete : the phraseology peculiar to a religious class or sect (M-W online)
For the sake of family peace, I put in one of my twice-yearly appearances in a church, at last Sunday's Easter service. As always, I was struck with the utter disconnect between reality and ritual. Despite the trendiness of a woman minister, it was the same old same old - singing and reading and listening to a sermon about the pipe dream of resurrection. Then, while following along in my book, this bit of cant stuck in my craw:
We pray for all who govern and hold authority in the nations of the world
--- that there may be peace and justice on the earth.
Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, Prayers of the People
I don't think anyone in the church batted an eye at reciting this cant. But I did. Excuse me - don't you think, after seven years of praying for these bloodthirsty gangsters, you might want to pray that god takes them to their "reward" before they kill all of us?
But, no. That sentiment, after these horrific seven years, still is beyond the pale. Wouldn't want to disturb the surreal good-iness (to borrow from S. Colbert) of the service. This polite, quoted cant is all that is spoken by "impure women priests" in our "godless, liberal churches". I really don't see why fundamentalist ministers hate us, because we seem to love Bush and Cheney and wish them well as much as the next sucker.
Now you might argue that this prayer is classic "turn the other cheek" Christian behavior. Except that there is no hint that the prayer expects those "who govern and hold authority" to be rapacious monsters to whom we might need to turn a cheek.
No, the hypnotic recitation of this cant is just part of the ever-growing disconnect I have with everyone and every institution around me. Corporate media serves up the same cant a thousand times a day. I can't listen to it or read it. The corporate cant started out as the theology of the free market, and then moved on to worshipping God's Own Party.
And the morbidly obese sheep just keep chewing their junk food and staring at the hookers and gangsters served up as role models.
We at DU have been "mad as hell and not going to take it" for seven years, yet we keep moving backwards. Backwards economically, militarily, Constitutionally, religiously. And all the while, bankers and generals and TV reporters and ministers and marketing droids tell us that up is down. If we cannot break through the cant with our own media before Cheney nukes Iran and/or the economy seizes up like a oil-starved Chevy V-8, we will go down in history as the biggest losers ever. The biggest suckers. The most banal of mass murderers.
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I am often amazed at how the media manages to strip mine the sixties, searching only for ridiculous fashions they can recycle, and for liberals who, with 20-20 hindsight, turned out to be wrong, dangerous, or insane. Its all grist for the cant mill.
But, as with the critics of the Iraq War who, despite having been right on every detail, are never given the slightest benefit of that in any debate, I suggest that the cultural shift that was stillborn in the 60s had it right. They were aware of the relentless assault of media; they understood the meaning of "silence". They understood the need for "sunshine" in government. I leave you with one of my favorite lyrics:
Let the sunshine in
We stop, look at one another,
Short of breath
Walking proudly in our winter coats
Wearing smells from laboratories
Facing a dying nation
A moving paper fantasy
Listening for the new told lies
With supreme visions of lonely tunes
Somewhere
Inside something there is a rush of greatness
Who knows what stands in front of our lives
I fashion my future on films in space
Silence tells me secretly
Everything
Everything