Easiest way to memorize the Apostles’ Creed

I don’t want to damn with faint praise, because the contemporary Christian music scene from the 80s and 90s deserved a lot of the criticism it got. For example, I consider Amy Grant a harbinger of the nominally Christian proto-thots who now populate the various phone dating apps. But all that criticism aside, the best artist contemporary Christian music produced was Rich Mullins, a genuine musical genius, and this is one of his best songs.

The verses are very close to the Apostles’ Creed, so after you’ve heard this a few times you’ll have memorized something very close to it, and then you can read the real thing and practice it a couple of times to memorize the small adjustments. (The chorus is from Chesterton’s Orthodoxy.)

(Since you didn’t ask, my favorite Rich Mullins song is Quoting Deuteronomy to the Devil.)

A note for parents: You should occasionally blast a playlist of great music throughout your house for a couple of hours as part of your kids’ indoctrination, and this would fit perfectly into that playlist. Maybe make a habit of doing this during the daily chore of cleaning up the disaster zone your kids created the previous day. My parents used to do that with a few classical music songs (e.g. Handel’s Messiah, Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Men’s Desiring) and a few different Christian artists and all of it is now permanently fossilized in the once-impressionable depths of my brain. You couldn’t ask for an easier win.

About Aeoli Pera

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9 Responses to Easiest way to memorize the Apostles’ Creed

  1. aiaslives says:

    Exposing young years to good music also helps develop perfect pitch. Perfect pitch isn’t genetic, it’s just the “range” of notes that the brain has learned to identify when it was plastic enough.

    And it saves kids from all the “imma big nigga *twerk* *twerk*” crap, which likely all their peers are listening to.

    “Turning Red” has a young prepubescent chinese girl turn into a red “panda” when she gets hormonal or something. Disobedience towards one’s parents is the theme and in the finale the girl defeats her mother (or something like that) by twerking. Can’t make this shit up. It’s supposed to be set in 2003 so you gotta understand that all this stuff used to exist back then, too. Why else would it be in a movie?

    It’s pretty well-known that the animation industry is full of perverted faggots. That something like this made it through production means that you should stop exposing your kids to this shit. Youtube isn’t safe either, they’re just going to copy whatever’s new.



    https://i.imgur.com/J17oWxC.png (edited)

    There’s a new Harry Potter game set in the 1800s that’s full of diversity, latest batman movie was about muh gibs and how witepipo is all ebul, and LOTR is unironically niggerized. There is literally no reason to “keep up” anymore (now more than ever).


    FAR OVA DEM MISTY MOUNT-TANS COOOOLLDDD
    DEM DUNGEONS BE DEEEPP AND DEM CAVARNS BE OOOOLLDDD
    DEY PINES BE ROARIN OOOON DA HEIGHTS
    DEY WINDS BE MOANING IN THE NIIIIIIIGHT
    DA FIRE BE REEEED IT FLAMING SPREAD
    DEM TREES LIKE GUN FIRE BLAZED LIKE BLUNTS

    ayo looka dis boi
    nexgt ei gonna tell ME dat we lookz like orcs
    aye am ay prauper elvz, mind you vite boi
    we wuz made by the aylu ayvatar and shieet

  2. Boneflour says:

    The music thing is a good idea.

    Re: cleaning up disaster zones, a friend of mine with kids trained his to pick up after themselves early. It was just something everyone did, including the adults. (The adults doing it is very important)

    I hear they like having the power to throw their own diapers away. Can build from there to reminding them to pick up stuff during context changes. Make it a game! Remember it takes more time than doing it yourself early on but pays off later.

    Baby wants to do the things adults do and have adult powers. Let them help put up dishes, even if it’s just taking the spoons out and handing them to you.

    If you have rules, let baby enforce them on you sometimes. Again, fun game time.

    The “Tsst” South Park episode and the Jordan Peterson bit about not letting your kids do things that make you hate them are both great to internalize.

    It’s not that your kids are like dogs, (well…)
    It’s that your kids are not and cannot be responsible for their own behavior. They can’t wipe their own butts for years!

    What’s that one gutow book? Extreme Ownership? Basically the same idea.

    • aiaslives says:

      From ‘The Sidis Story” by Sarah Sidis:

      Chapter 5:

      The first thing my April Fool’s boy wanted from the great outside world was the moon. We stood at the window of the apartment together in the evening, with Billy in Boris’ arms, and admired the moon over Central Park. Billy chuckled and reached for it. The next night when he found that the moon was not in the same place, he seemed disturbed. Trips to the window became a nightly ritual, and he was always pleased when he could see the “moo-n.”

      This led to Billy’s mastering higher mathematics and planetary revolutions by the time he was eleven, and if that seems to be a ridiculous statement I can only say, “Well, it did.”

      When Billy was five months old, we bought him a high chair, and we decided to have him sit at the table, though the King of England or whoever, came to dine. He had all his meals with us from the time he was six months old. He couldn’t creep, and he couldn’t walk and he couldn’t talk, but he could observe.

      He observed us eat, and we gave him a spoon, and he tried to eat like us. For two months he hit his ear, and his eye with the spoon, and sometimes his food landed on his head. This made him angry, he never liked not to have things go. And I would then guide the spoon to his mouth. But after about two months, lo, he hit his mouth. Such a crowing, such triumph! He crowed so that I thought at first he had burnt his mouth, but I looked and his face was radiant with success. After that he fed himself.

      “See,” said Boris, “he has learned to coordinate those muscles. In the same way he can learn to think, by using his mind. Keep on feeding him like some mothers do, and he will still be eating from your hand when he is three years old. A baby is never too young to start learning anything.”

      For the first year of his life, I laid on the floor and rolled with Billy and talked to him and laughed at him.

      During those years, around the turn or the century, the feminists were beginning to beat their drum, but their thumping did not appeal to me. A certain hazy thinking in those quarters made it seem that to get a woman to college and to the polls, it was necessary to take her out of the home and away from the intimate tasks of bringing up infants.

      The reasoning seemed poor to me. I thought there was no more important thing in the world for me to do than to start my baby off in the world. Boris always liked women and he loved his home, so he never belittled me as a woman or domesticity as a role. In theory, he thought that men and women, as men and women, differ not a whit in mental processes—emotional drives, tradition and training make the differences. He made me proud of myself by his pride.

      • aiaslives says:

        The first word he said was, “door.”

        “Why,” I asked him later, when he could talk and explain, “do you like the door so much?”

        “Door moves. People come,” he answered.

        So with his blocks we spelled “DOOR.” I told him it was a picture of the word. He liked the idea, and as fast as he learned to talk, he learned to spell.

        I always left the words he had spelled on the floor and started again until no one could walk in his room. Then we picked them up and started again.

        Before he was two he would go gravely to the book case and pick out any book that a visitor asked for. This so amused and pleased them, that he soon took pleasure in opening the books and reading from them to his father and guests, and by the time he was three he read well.

        When he asked me something that I didn’t know, I would stop anything I was doing, and say, “Let’s look it up.” He would take down the child’s encyclopaedia I had bought him, and look it up together.

        After we had done this a few times, he asked me a question one day, and then triumphantly said, “But you will say, ‘Let’s look it up!’ and I can look it up myself!”

        “That is the last lesson I gave Billy. During the day he would go occasionally to his room and close the door and read. He never studied.

        One day when he was about three I listened with astonishment from the kitchen to the purposeful slow thumping of the typewriter from his father’s room. I didn’t interrupt, and he brought me out a letter he had written. It was to a toy store, ordering toys.

        “Now I am very old, like Daddy, because I can typewrite. Maybe I am a hundred years old,” he told me.

        • aiaslives says:

          He was delighted by my surprise, and proud to show me how he had pulled his high chair up to the typewriter when he found he couldn’t reach it from his daddy’s chair. “Won’t Daddy be surprised!” he crowed.

          His father’s surprise was his greatest incentive.

          I suppose one of the great moments of his infancy was when he sidled into the room early one evening after Boris had returned from a week’s trip to Chicago. Company was there and Billy held a book behind his back until a lull in the conversation.

          “Does anyone here happen to know any Latin?” he asked innocently.

          “Yes, I know a little,” someone replied.

          “Here,” said Billy, bursting with excitement, and thrusting a copy of Caesar’s Gallic Wars into the visitor’s hands. “I can read it, let me show you!”

          So Billy read the first page, and said, “Oh, Daddy, aren’t you surprised?”

          “I am indeed,” said his astonished father.

          He had taught himself to read Latin by using my old pony. It seemed to him a pleasant game indeed to read the English version and then match it with the Latin words.

          • Boneflour says:

            That’s the good stuff.

            I think the current estimate for average time spent with kids is a half hour a day…

            25 minutes of which is putting them to bed.

            I learned to read from my mother reading a couple of books to me at night. Even falling asleep from work she would get those books in.

            We lost something beautiful by taking both parents away from their children. But we can take it back. One step at a time.

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