Newfangled

When there are too many words
inside of my head, I cannot sleep.
They rattle around making all sorts of noise
Until I pluck them out of my mind
and put them on paper.
My voice refuses to be silenced
by a downy pillow.

~Christy Ann Martine

Sometimes I am content not to write for weeks. Other times the words keep flowing, preventing me from sleeping until I pour them out. Like now. Also, sometimes I can’t write about the things I want to write until I get rid of the thoughts filling my mind. For example, I wanted to write about Timmy and Richard VI, our cat and rooster who are causing trouble, but right now my mind refuses to write their story. Next time, I keep telling myself. Right now, I have to write the following because my mind won’t let me rest until I do.

I’m really enjoying Ann Swinfen’s historical novels. I bought the first one at our library’s used book sale a few weeks ago. I looked for the others in the series in various places, including on the library’s website, their e-books, and Michigan’s interlibrary loan system. Couldn’t find them. I did find them for sale at book websites, but they were more expensive than I wanted to pay. I finally found Kindle books very inexpensively. When EJ messaged me on his lunch break, which he always does, he asked me how I was doing. I told him I was struggling with great temptation but I wouldn’t give in if he thought it best not to. I told him I wanted to buy one (or two, or three, or five) of the books in Swinfen’s series. He said, “Go ahead. Buy them. Buy them all.” So I did. This is why I married him. Ok. ONE of the reasons why I did. He knows the importance of books. For the record, I tell him to buy fruit trees when he’s tempted.

Ann Swinsen’s novels are set in 1353, which was a time–after the Black Death–of great social and religious transition. At the beginning of the fourth book of the series, The Merchant’s Tale, Nicholas (the main character) reminisces about when he first arrived in Oxford as a student. One of his roommates was John Wycliff. Yes, THAT John Wycliff. The novels are not about Wycliff, but since he lived during the same time (1328-1384) and place as the book, he’s mentioned. Nicholas sometimes expresses concern that Wycliff’s developing “radical ideas” about translating the Bible from Latin into English would get him into trouble if he wasn’t careful which, of course, they later did. I learned (yes, from Grok) that Wycliff’s ideas made him many enemies among bishops, archbishops, and the papacy. He was summoned to trials and hearings multiple times (notably in 1377 at St. Paul’s in London and in 1382 at Oxford). Popes issued bulls against him, and church authorities condemned many of his teachings as heretical. He was protected by powerful secular figures which allowed Wycliffe to continue writing and teaching at Oxford for longer than he otherwise might have. In 1381, he was forced out of Oxford University, and he retired to his parish at Lutterworth, where he continued his work until his death of a stroke. His followers suffered more severe persecution after his death. In 1415, the Council of Constance formally declared Wycliffe a heretic, banned his writings, and ordered his remains removed from consecrated ground. In 1428, his body was exhumed, burned, and the ashes thrown into a nearby river. This was a symbolic way of condemning him after death.

Nicholas and other main characters in Anne Swinfen’s books favored the Bible and church services all being in Latin–the idea of them being in English was radical–even though most people at that time couldn’t understand Latin. I learned that structured church services were ~90 to 95% Latin, with English largely limited to preaching (which didn’t happen every week), hymns/carols (sometimes), and informal elements.

The novels also touched on the idea of newfangled pews which allowed people to sit during services. I learned that the congregation mostly stood during the service. There was movement: kneeling at key moments (e.g., during the Elevation of the Host), processing, and responding with prayers or hymns. The nave (main body of the church) was open, with people standing or milling about. Clergy and choir performed most of the liturgy in the chancel (east end, often screened by a rood screen). Standing was the norm for the laity because it symbolized active participation and reverence. The idea of sitting during worship could seem less devout to traditionalists. Pews (or benches) were a gradual 13th–15th century innovation, starting with stone benches against walls for the elderly or infirm, then spreading as wooden seating. They were not universal in 1353 and were still somewhat “newfangled,” especially in rural areas. Fixed pews became more common later, often tied to status and payment.

Today we’d think standing during services was strange and radical.

This made me consider inventions through the centuries that were revolutionary or radical at the time but became so common that we now can’t imagine being without. One is the Gutenberg Press, invented around 1440. Printed books were less expensive than hand-copied ones and allowed common people to have more access to books. The Gutenberg Press was broadly welcomed as a transformative invention, but there were some that resisted it, such as scribes and copyists, because it disrupted their livelihood. Scholars and clerics worried about accuracy and quality. Critics argued printing prioritized profit over scholarship. There were pockets of superstitious suspicion because the remarkable uniformity and speed of printed books struck some as almost magical, leading to associations with witchcraft or the devil. This, however, was not the dominant view. These reactions mirror the reactions to many disruptive technologies throughout history.

Sometimes I think that things never really change. All new inventions disrupt what went before and people often warn of collapse of industry or “life as we know it.” Currently we have a new technology emerging: Artificial Intelligence. Common people (like me) can now make their own movies, songs, and art, which was out of reach before. I’ve heard concern that this will affect the livelihoods of actors, artists, and writers because they won’t be needed. I’ve also heard people express suspicion: Can’t trust AI. It will lead to no good.

Perhaps they are right, but personally, I think technology is–and has always been–a tool that can be used for bad or good. The Gutenberg Press made books easy and cheaper to print. Some people have used this “print technology” to make reprehensible books, while others make beautiful ones. The invention of film, television, computers, the Internet has resulted in people being able to make/do some very evil things, but they have also been used for great good. The technology is a neutral tool: what is done with it is what matters.

Maybe AI will lead to the loss of all creativity and the extinction of the human race. Or not. Maybe it will lead to MORE creativity because it will allow people to express their creative ideas in a way that they didn’t have access to before, just as the Gutenberg Press allowed common people to have access to books.

Still, I find myself a bit reluctant to reveal that my song was created with help from AI, although I do say that it was. I do like to sort of hold back the identity of the help until I can first describe the wonder of it. I could never have created the song without Grok but the message and words are all mine. The decisions about the song were all mine. I chose which music I liked to express the song. But I wonder if people will think my song is “less” or “fake” because I had AI help. I don’t know if they do, but sometimes I get that impression: “Oh, that was just made with AI. Not a REAL song.” (BOOM goes the orc drums.) It kind of doesn’t make sense to me: If a person thought a song was beautiful and true when he believed a human was the musician and singer, why would it be considered less real, less beautiful, and less true if technology helped in its creation?

I have to remind myself that the song is God’s and His opinion of it is the only one that matters.

So, that is the thought that has been rattling around in my head, and which won’t be silenced by a downy pillow.

Maybe next time I can write about Timmy and Richard VI.