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By Bradfield Ross
“You’re more excited for this than you were to see the Pope!”
My mom told me this after I excitedly called her to tell her about Ringo Starr’s set
at this year’s Bourbon and Beyond festival, and I don’t think her analysis was wrong.
It’s not that I don’t think it was very cool, it certainly was. The multiethnic,
multilingual throng of strangers gathered for a purpose which they all felt to be beyond
the political and social. Their collective experience of the spiritual realm was an
interesting thing to witness. However, it was not a communion I was part of. The
linguistic barrier was an element, as was my lack of Catholicism. The biggest separating
factor was simply that I don’t think there is anything inherently special about the Pope.
Pope is to me as meaningful a title as Professor, Senator, Doctor, or Your Honor. That
is to say, I am impressed by the man and not the words a board said he could put
before his name. The best of us are not always the most ennobled, but certainly there
are many of the worst of us among the highly titled.
Our class trip to Italy was dominated by the Catholic influence of my cohort, an
influence that wasn’t unwelcome but was certainly foreign. Since coming to UofL I have
developed a keen interest in talking to Catholics and attempting to understand their
faith. This trip to Italy was another opportunity to see the workings of a faith which exists
as the last holdout of the Roman Empire, an ancient sect in which ritual and tradition
appear to factor in much more than the choice, rationality, and individualism of my
Methodist upbringing. So as I stood in the crowd I will say I witnessed something
amazing, but the awe was not from the crowning of the new emperor. Instead I saw
humans lift their gazes towards something higher. I am not sure that their awe and
devotion are well placed, whoever could be but it was remarkable nevertheless. and at
that it is a higher good (as opposed to the higher evils found by the Nazis or
Bolsheviks).
London and Edinburgh were a bit more friendly, but the protestantisms of that
island were, and in some respects still are, intertwined with the state. State funerals in
Anglican Cathedrals, national history for Scotland linked directly with the Presbyterian
church. The churches seemed to serve the same function as the royal family, to give
legitimacy to the affairs of state and to attract tourists.
It is ultimately the humanism of Amsterdam and Nuremberg which I found most
suited to my tastes. First, the beauty of Amsterdam. Americans lament our public
architecture, and reactionaries will use this complaint to remind people that good
architecture follows good art, good art follows a good understanding of beauty, and a
good understanding of beauty follows from their understanding of God and Gothic
Cathedrals. The 1920’s and 1930’s still renowned art deco styles demonstrate that it is
not necessarily God that furnishes the base of beauty, but there must be some value.
Amsterdam showed me that beautiful modern architecture is possible, a lesson I will
forget and relearn many times. The churches in Amsterdam are mostly museums or
spaces for various live entertainment, and instead God can be found just outside the
Red Light District in a little shop called Kokopelli.
The humanism of Nuremberg was stunning too, but of course in a much darker
way. Although German Idealism is certainly a more specific strain of thought and has
been historically closely linked with the Nazi reign, elements of humanism in which the
perfected form of man, of family, of war, of industry, and of state are promoted were
certainly present. And it was a humanistic project of courtroom trials which sought to
end the Nazi line. As despicable as the murders of war and genocide are, does what
happened in Nuremberg not cause reflection? Under what authority were those men
sentenced to death? This is a difficult question, and not one the museum shied away
from. It is a project of human empowerment, of our struggle towards a notion of justice.
I think that we do live in a world without objective proof of God, a world separated
from a divinity that we imagine. We are forever short of our own ideals, unable to accept
the nature of our condition. The best of us can still lead people to grow, develop,
individualize, and appreciate the great brotherhood of man to which we all belong. And
now we come back to The Beatles, truly some of the best of us. Ringo’s message of
“peace and love” brought me the joy and ecstasy that I saw my classmates experience
in St. Peter’s Square. Rock’n’Roll is how I experience the divine.
It would make sense for my humanistic idol, my household god, to be rock’n’roll.
First and foremost, I listen to it constantly. I am someone who enjoys being aware of his
surroundings, who likes the sounds of birds and trains and silence. I try not to be glued
to a world away from the present moment. With that said, I do listen to a lot of music.
There is almost always music playing in our apartment if someone is home and awake,
either from the Google Home in the living room or Kian’s record player or my own
Edefiers, which currently serve as a wonderful set of bookends. For the entirety of 2025
the work of The Beatles, as well as the solo work of George Harrison and John Lennon, has helped me in a way that only great art can.
Bradfield is a McConnell Scholar at the University of Louisville in the class of 2026. He is studying philosophy and political science.