But ...
(see post immediately below ...)
that's power as the world sees it ...
:: :: :: :: ::
I wonder if there isn't more power for the good in an anonymous eighty-plus-year-old nun in an inner-city convent, praying for the whole damn creation & brightening the day of whomever she glimpses!
I am slightly acquaint with just such a nun, who seems younger & is joyfuller than my tristful self.
I'm having a slight bout of optimism & good cheer; please forgive me. A ray of hope has pierced the darkness, & illuminated the soul with something approximating an insight.
It'll soon pass, & I'll resume being cantankerous.
But what matters more in the great scheme of things -- the prayers of Sister Mary Lucas (pseudonym) or the pronouncements of judges and media titans?
Well I wonder.
Sister ML told me once that she met the foundress of her order, now a canonized saint of the ecclesia.
So I've met someone who's met a saint! Small world, eh?
Tuesday, January 28, 2003
Three most powerful women in the country
Oprah. The opinion-shaping capacity, the book club, queen of all media, etc., etc.
Condoleezza Rice. Makes Margaret Thatcher seem comparatively like a museum curator in Vaduz.
For the third, I'm going to go with Sandra Day O'Connor, for the time being, because she has been so often "the swing vote" in Supreme Court decisions that affect the whole country.
(Hillary used to be on this list, and may join it again if my worst fears come true!)
Oprah. The opinion-shaping capacity, the book club, queen of all media, etc., etc.
Condoleezza Rice. Makes Margaret Thatcher seem comparatively like a museum curator in Vaduz.
For the third, I'm going to go with Sandra Day O'Connor, for the time being, because she has been so often "the swing vote" in Supreme Court decisions that affect the whole country.
(Hillary used to be on this list, and may join it again if my worst fears come true!)
Are you a liberal?
At dennisprager.com, a list of 22 positions or propositions against which to check your ideology.
The gist is : If you don't agree with most of the positions, and you're voting Democratic -- why, in heaven's name? Why?
At dennisprager.com, a list of 22 positions or propositions against which to check your ideology.
The gist is : If you don't agree with most of the positions, and you're voting Democratic -- why, in heaven's name? Why?
Same thing, different names
via chirp
1. Kleenex or tissue?
Kleenex, methinks.
2. Soda or pop (or tonic or whatever)?
Brand name or type (coke, ginger ale). Never "pop"; sometimes (Bostonian, remember?) "tonic."
3. A sandwich on a long roll: sub or hero (or hoagie or grinder, etc)?
Sub.
4. Glasses or spectacles?
gwaffev
5. TV or television (or boob-tube, or telly, for our friends across the pond)?
TV, sometimes television, rarely the others.
6. Movie or film?
Movie mostly, film or flick sometimes. Cinematograph, anyone? Emphasis on the "mat."
7. Sofa or couch?
Couch.
8. Stove or range?
Stove.
9. Remote control or clicker?
Remote. Sans "control."
10. Supermarket or grocery store?
Name of supermarket (Star Market, Shaw's, etc.)
via chirp
1. Kleenex or tissue?
Kleenex, methinks.
2. Soda or pop (or tonic or whatever)?
Brand name or type (coke, ginger ale). Never "pop"; sometimes (Bostonian, remember?) "tonic."
3. A sandwich on a long roll: sub or hero (or hoagie or grinder, etc)?
Sub.
4. Glasses or spectacles?
gwaffev
5. TV or television (or boob-tube, or telly, for our friends across the pond)?
TV, sometimes television, rarely the others.
6. Movie or film?
Movie mostly, film or flick sometimes. Cinematograph, anyone? Emphasis on the "mat."
7. Sofa or couch?
Couch.
8. Stove or range?
Stove.
9. Remote control or clicker?
Remote. Sans "control."
10. Supermarket or grocery store?
Name of supermarket (Star Market, Shaw's, etc.)
Three modern converts
An article by Tim Drake in the National Catholic Register. By way of the blogger at Disordered Affections.
I smiled upon learning that a young tree in bloom along the Charles River played a part, however small, in the conversion of Avery Dulles!
An article by Tim Drake in the National Catholic Register. By way of the blogger at Disordered Affections.
I smiled upon learning that a young tree in bloom along the Charles River played a part, however small, in the conversion of Avery Dulles!
The New American Bible translators
have a whack at Clement Clarke Moore
(Complete "translation" to be released in December 2003 ...)
It was the vigil of December 25th :
and audible within the abode,
No stirring creature, not a single one,
tiny rodents being no exception.
Hosiery of red, carefully tacked into place,
dangled from the mantel-edge
Happily expecting, eagerly awaiting
Nicholas's canonized arrival.
Tucked securely under the sheets
were the small fry,
Haunted by the cranial choreography
of spectral fruit-snacks.
For a glacial forty winks
our minds became mute,
My wife, who was wearing a bandanna,
and in my night-cap, I.
have a whack at Clement Clarke Moore
(Complete "translation" to be released in December 2003 ...)
It was the vigil of December 25th :
and audible within the abode,
No stirring creature, not a single one,
tiny rodents being no exception.
Hosiery of red, carefully tacked into place,
dangled from the mantel-edge
Happily expecting, eagerly awaiting
Nicholas's canonized arrival.
Tucked securely under the sheets
were the small fry,
Haunted by the cranial choreography
of spectral fruit-snacks.
For a glacial forty winks
our minds became mute,
My wife, who was wearing a bandanna,
and in my night-cap, I.
A bit of Markham
The smack and tang of elemental things:
The rectitude and patience of the cliff;
The good-will of the rain that loves all leaves;
The friendly welcome of the wayside well;
The courage of the bird that dares the sea;
The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;
The pity of the snow that hides all scars;
The secrecy of streams that make their way
Beneath the mountain to the rifted rock;
The tolerance and equity of light [...]
Glorious!
The smack and tang of elemental things:
The rectitude and patience of the cliff;
The good-will of the rain that loves all leaves;
The friendly welcome of the wayside well;
The courage of the bird that dares the sea;
The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;
The pity of the snow that hides all scars;
The secrecy of streams that make their way
Beneath the mountain to the rifted rock;
The tolerance and equity of light [...]
Glorious!
Did a woman write the Odyssey?
Samuel Butler says yes; The Rat says no.
Am linking to this post because I sense the obligation to link to any blogger who mentions the poet and translator Robert Fitzgerald, however en passant the mentioning of him might be. Fitzgerald (1910-85) translated both of Homer's epics and the Aeneid.
There's something uniquely satisfying about unshaky, well-wrought blank verse.
Stop me before I blog the entirety of Edwin Markham's Lincoln, the Man of the People!
:: :: :: :: ::
Also
On a much more serious note. See the same blogger on her recent reading of a book about North Korean gulags, The Aquariums of Pyongyang.
Samuel Butler says yes; The Rat says no.
Am linking to this post because I sense the obligation to link to any blogger who mentions the poet and translator Robert Fitzgerald, however en passant the mentioning of him might be. Fitzgerald (1910-85) translated both of Homer's epics and the Aeneid.
There's something uniquely satisfying about unshaky, well-wrought blank verse.
Stop me before I blog the entirety of Edwin Markham's Lincoln, the Man of the People!
:: :: :: :: ::
Also
On a much more serious note. See the same blogger on her recent reading of a book about North Korean gulags, The Aquariums of Pyongyang.
Incidentally
I believe I am owed reparations for the ghastly treatment endured by the Poles at the hands of the National Socialists and Communists during the 20th century. I don't have a drop of Polish blood in me, but my ancestors did come from Europe, which is the continent where Poland can be found.
I believe I am owed reparations for the ghastly treatment endured by the Poles at the hands of the National Socialists and Communists during the 20th century. I don't have a drop of Polish blood in me, but my ancestors did come from Europe, which is the continent where Poland can be found.
The mind is an enchanting thing
is an enchanted thing
like the glaze on a
katydid-wing
subdivided by sun
till the nettings are legion.
Like Gieseking playing Scarlatti;
like the apteryx-awl
as a beak, or the
kiwi's rain-shawl
of haired feathers, the mind
feeling its way as though blind,
walks with its eyes on the ground.
It has memory's ear
that can hear without
having to hear.
Like the gyroscope's fall,
truly unequivocal
because trued by regnant certainty,
it is a power of
strong enchantment. It
is like the dove-
neck animated by
sun; it is memory's eye;
it's conscientious inconsistency.
It tears off the veil; tears
the temptation, the
mist the heart wears,
from its eyes -- if the heart
has a face; it takes apart
dejection. It's fire in the dove-neck's
iridescence; in the
inconsistencies
of Scarlatti.
Unconfusion submits
its confusion to proof; it's
not a Herod's oath that cannot change.
-- Marianne Moore (1887-1972). See The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore (Penguin, 1982), pp. 134-5.
is an enchanted thing
like the glaze on a
katydid-wing
subdivided by sun
till the nettings are legion.
Like Gieseking playing Scarlatti;
like the apteryx-awl
as a beak, or the
kiwi's rain-shawl
of haired feathers, the mind
feeling its way as though blind,
walks with its eyes on the ground.
It has memory's ear
that can hear without
having to hear.
Like the gyroscope's fall,
truly unequivocal
because trued by regnant certainty,
it is a power of
strong enchantment. It
is like the dove-
neck animated by
sun; it is memory's eye;
it's conscientious inconsistency.
It tears off the veil; tears
the temptation, the
mist the heart wears,
from its eyes -- if the heart
has a face; it takes apart
dejection. It's fire in the dove-neck's
iridescence; in the
inconsistencies
of Scarlatti.
Unconfusion submits
its confusion to proof; it's
not a Herod's oath that cannot change.
-- Marianne Moore (1887-1972). See The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore (Penguin, 1982), pp. 134-5.
The Blogg-watch Queene
elle se trouve ici
The Signorina sings of watching blogs
In cadences she borrows from the Smiths;
Now Spenser's epic comes; the blogger clogs
Her page with eighties tunes and lyric myths :
There's not an excellence she's apt to miss;
She'll guide you to a spate of lively prose
With sharpish barbs, with mischievous verbal twists,
With antic dithyrambs -- anything goes! --
With wit as pointed as the thorns upon the rose.
elle se trouve ici
The Signorina sings of watching blogs
In cadences she borrows from the Smiths;
Now Spenser's epic comes; the blogger clogs
Her page with eighties tunes and lyric myths :
There's not an excellence she's apt to miss;
She'll guide you to a spate of lively prose
With sharpish barbs, with mischievous verbal twists,
With antic dithyrambs -- anything goes! --
With wit as pointed as the thorns upon the rose.
High Flight
by John Gillespie Magee, Jr. (1922-1941)
Oft have I slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds -- and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of -- wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark, or even eagle flew;
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the Face of God.
:: :: :: :: ::
Lines from this poem were quoted by President Reagan in a memorial speech following the Challenger space-shuttle disaster, seventeen years ago today, January 28, 1986.
by John Gillespie Magee, Jr. (1922-1941)
Oft have I slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds -- and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of -- wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark, or even eagle flew;
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the Face of God.
:: :: :: :: ::
Lines from this poem were quoted by President Reagan in a memorial speech following the Challenger space-shuttle disaster, seventeen years ago today, January 28, 1986.
Rock me, Amadeus!
Mozart's birthday yesterday
Er war ein Punker und er lebte in der großen Stadt
Es war in Wien, war Vienna, wo er alles tat
Er hatte Schulden, denn er trank, doch ihn liebten alle Frauen
Und jede rief: come and rock me Amadeus
Er war ein Superstar, er war so populär
Er war so exaltiert, because er hatte Flair
Er war ein Virtuose, war ein Rockidol
Und alles rief: come and rock me Amadeus
Amadeus, Amadeus...
Es war um 1780 und es war in Wien
No plastic money anymore, die Banken gegen ihn
Woher die Schulden kamen, war wohl jedermann bekannt
Er war ein Mann der Frauen, Frauen liebten seinen Punk
Er war ein Superstar, er war so populär
Er war zu exaltiert, genau das war sein Flair
Er war ein Virtuose, war ein Rockidol
Und alles sucht noch heute: come on, rock me Amadeus
Amadeus, Amadeus...
Mozart's birthday yesterday
Er war ein Punker und er lebte in der großen Stadt
Es war in Wien, war Vienna, wo er alles tat
Er hatte Schulden, denn er trank, doch ihn liebten alle Frauen
Und jede rief: come and rock me Amadeus
Er war ein Superstar, er war so populär
Er war so exaltiert, because er hatte Flair
Er war ein Virtuose, war ein Rockidol
Und alles rief: come and rock me Amadeus
Amadeus, Amadeus...
Es war um 1780 und es war in Wien
No plastic money anymore, die Banken gegen ihn
Woher die Schulden kamen, war wohl jedermann bekannt
Er war ein Mann der Frauen, Frauen liebten seinen Punk
Er war ein Superstar, er war so populär
Er war zu exaltiert, genau das war sein Flair
Er war ein Virtuose, war ein Rockidol
Und alles sucht noch heute: come on, rock me Amadeus
Amadeus, Amadeus...
Monday, January 27, 2003
I am not Saint Thérèse of Lisieux
but that's no excuse
In a prayer-booklet somewhere in this library of a room, there is a beautiful enthusiastic sincere personal deeply devoted Morning Offering composed by the French Carmelite. It is how she began her day, every day.
It is an instructive and rebuking contrast to how I begin my day. Usually with a groan, a deep sigh of ingratitude, and a three-word exclamation which I shall not reveal here. Suffice it to say, it's not Hosanna in excelsis or My Jesus, mercy or even Good morning, God!
The unprayerfulness is becoming somewhat pronounced.
But at 5.08 this morning, give or take a few microseconds, more than half-asleep but with some startling premonitory twinges in the chest, prayer was made. Briefly, instantly, fervently.
Got up. Walked around a bit. The pain went away.
I should note, too, that I've lately been in the habit of attending Sunday Mass about once every 600 centuries (please make allowances for hyperbole). My logic is, if I want to watch Barney, it's on PBS. And perhaps more seriously : A dominical celebration of the Eucharist shouldn't have to involve blocking out eighty percent of what's going on in the church. I don't really like my parish.
Still, even as I make excuses for the dominical truancy (grave matter, the Church tells us) I must acknowledge and confess : the prayer isn't there during the rest of the week. An occasional perusal of the Psalms, and petitionary prayer for those in St Blog's who have asked for it. Or a somnambulistic recitation of the Rosary, interrupted before the second decade by sleep.
I wonder if I believe in heaven.
I see the joy of other Christians, and marvel at it.
I see zeal and compassion, and nod approvingly ... but have not a whit of it myself.
There are things that rather need changing, course-directions that rather want reversal, addictions to various & sundry things (perhaps most toxically, the habit of complaint) that hinder one from seeing the Light in which one has publicly professed to believe.
There are those dreadful Saturdays.
There's the Francis Thompson line that comes to one, of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot.
There's the Smiths lyric, To pretend to be happy could only be idiocy.
There is resentment. There are grudges.
but that's no excuse
In a prayer-booklet somewhere in this library of a room, there is a beautiful enthusiastic sincere personal deeply devoted Morning Offering composed by the French Carmelite. It is how she began her day, every day.
It is an instructive and rebuking contrast to how I begin my day. Usually with a groan, a deep sigh of ingratitude, and a three-word exclamation which I shall not reveal here. Suffice it to say, it's not Hosanna in excelsis or My Jesus, mercy or even Good morning, God!
The unprayerfulness is becoming somewhat pronounced.
But at 5.08 this morning, give or take a few microseconds, more than half-asleep but with some startling premonitory twinges in the chest, prayer was made. Briefly, instantly, fervently.
Got up. Walked around a bit. The pain went away.
I should note, too, that I've lately been in the habit of attending Sunday Mass about once every 600 centuries (please make allowances for hyperbole). My logic is, if I want to watch Barney, it's on PBS. And perhaps more seriously : A dominical celebration of the Eucharist shouldn't have to involve blocking out eighty percent of what's going on in the church. I don't really like my parish.
Still, even as I make excuses for the dominical truancy (grave matter, the Church tells us) I must acknowledge and confess : the prayer isn't there during the rest of the week. An occasional perusal of the Psalms, and petitionary prayer for those in St Blog's who have asked for it. Or a somnambulistic recitation of the Rosary, interrupted before the second decade by sleep.
I wonder if I believe in heaven.
I see the joy of other Christians, and marvel at it.
I see zeal and compassion, and nod approvingly ... but have not a whit of it myself.
There are things that rather need changing, course-directions that rather want reversal, addictions to various & sundry things (perhaps most toxically, the habit of complaint) that hinder one from seeing the Light in which one has publicly professed to believe.
There are those dreadful Saturdays.
There's the Francis Thompson line that comes to one, of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot.
There's the Smiths lyric, To pretend to be happy could only be idiocy.
There is resentment. There are grudges.
Very. Wise. Answer. Indeed.
Gregg the Obscure in the comment-box below, answering the Eminem-vs-Bill Clinton question :
Clinton – while both have been responsible for the ruin of many lives, most of Clinton’s nefarious influence won’t be so lasting. Rappers eviscerate the consciences of untold millions, with little hope for future recovery.
A sentiment echoed by one of the brighter young talents in the recording industry :
Oh my God, the [hip-hop] videos! The imagery is so awful! I just can't get with it at all. The best thing I can say about it is that sometimes you have to see that kind of stuff so as to have a more balanced view about why it's so bad.
The newly 22-year-old (as of Saturday) Alicia Keys, offering her opinion on the use of women, sex, and sleaze in today's rap/hip-hop videos. (Via her bio page at the Internet Movie Database.)
Knew I liked her for a reason.
Gregg the Obscure in the comment-box below, answering the Eminem-vs-Bill Clinton question :
Clinton – while both have been responsible for the ruin of many lives, most of Clinton’s nefarious influence won’t be so lasting. Rappers eviscerate the consciences of untold millions, with little hope for future recovery.
A sentiment echoed by one of the brighter young talents in the recording industry :
Oh my God, the [hip-hop] videos! The imagery is so awful! I just can't get with it at all. The best thing I can say about it is that sometimes you have to see that kind of stuff so as to have a more balanced view about why it's so bad.
The newly 22-year-old (as of Saturday) Alicia Keys, offering her opinion on the use of women, sex, and sleaze in today's rap/hip-hop videos. (Via her bio page at the Internet Movie Database.)
Knew I liked her for a reason.
Who's cooler? (my answers)
1. Will Smith or Denzel Washington?
"In West Philadelphia, born and raised, on the playground was where I spent most of my days." One is mystified by the "at his name every knee shall bend" tone of voice wherewith the elder fellow is often praised. He is the National Homework, the State Religion. And charm & a sense-of-humor do tip the scales somewhat decisively in Mr Smith's favor. Plus, Will Smith is a miracle worker. He has taken rap, a genre that is on balance as benign as a swastika made of anthrax, and made it ... charming. Even though some would use the word "domesticated" or "harmless" as a pejorative. With DW, I've always gotten something of a personality vibe. I use the word "personality" Obliquely.
2. Alan Greenspan or Steve Forbes?
I can listen to Steve without falling asleep. Although AG is too sexy for his shirt, I choose Forbes.
3. Marcel Proust or Monty Python?
Haven't read Proust. But if I did, I'd wager he wouldn't be as enticing or entertaining as the Python sketch in which game-show contestants are asked to summarize A la recherche du temps perdu in 15 seconds or less. Besides which : My hovercraft is full of eels.
4. Kevin Spacey or Kevin Bacon?
Hamlet or Richie Cunningham? Wallace Stevens or Edna St Vincent Millay? Spacey, by furlongs if not leagues.
5. Tony the Tiger or Charlie the Tuna?
"I'd like to be under the sea in an octopus's garden, in the shade." He's big, he's blue, he's subaqueous.
6. Matt Damon or Ben Affleck?
The talented Mr Damon. Largely on the strength of Ripley.
7. Nomar Garciaparra or Derek Jeter?
On the basis of being Bostonian, in part, but really, whose name is more fun to say?
NO - MAR .... gar - CIIIII - aaaaa - PAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR - RAAAAAAAA !!!!!
8. Robert Herrick or George Herbert?
I'm more familiar with George Herbert. He seems to have a greater number of poems that immediately magnetize our mind and implicate our attention. But Mr Riddle's preference for Herrick is by no means to be discounted, and causes me to wonder if I've read Herrick with sufficient thoroughness.
9. Alfre Woodard or Halle Berry?
Halle Berry is an able actress, from whom one doesn't easily avert the eye. But there's a regal quality to Alfre Woodard that the glossy magazines miss. She is the queen of my heart and the empress of my soul. Plus, I was disaffected, a bit, by something Ms Berry said in an interview. (Ditto Alfre Woodard, but with Halle, the damage was more lasting. Odd, when you consider I remember Alfre's remarks, but don't remember Halle's.)
10. Luke Spencer or Sonny Corinthos?
Sonny's handsomer, you might even say sexier if you were inclined to think in those terms, but he reminds me against my will of The Fonz. I half expect him to snap his fingers, and have cheerleaders gravitate toward him like iron filings to a magnet. Lucas Lorenzo Spencer is much more multifaceted, and on occasion scarier than Sonny. On frequent occasion. Luke just might be the greatest character in soap opera history.
11. Eminem or Bill Clinton?
I can conceive of a politician worse than Bill Clinton. I can listen to Bill Clinton for longer than five seconds without feeling as if I am undergoing the tortures of the damned. He did excel at the ceremonial aspects of the presidency. I think of his reading of Psalm 1 at Oklahoma City, or of Sir Stephen Spender's "I think continually of those who were truly great" at the funeral for Congresswoman Barbara Jordan. I want Eminem to develop a lifelong career-ending case of laryngitis.
12. Jamie Buchman or Debra Barone?
No bloody contest. Jamie Buchman, especially from the earlier years of Mad About You. I dream of Debra Barone quite often. She's standing on the 15-yard-line of a football gridiron. Ray comes along & kicks her through the uprights, a field goal for which more than three points should be awarded!
13. Bob Dole or Pat Moynihan?
This one makes Jamie & Debra seem close. Bob Dole was the first man in American history to resign the Presidency without having been elected to it. He just can't win, and he doesn't win here. Imagine, if you will, a Clinton/Moynihan primary in 1996. Wouldn't that have been nothing short of great? And don't we owe Pat a debt of thanks for -- unwittingly? -- helping Rudy win the '93 NYC mayor's race? Moynihan's artice on "defining deviancy down" was, for all purposes & intents, Giuliani's campaign speech. And for many more reasons than the ones just cited, acknowledging that no one's perfect & that there are cases where Dole had the right view and Moynihan the wrong view.
14. Marianne Moore or Elizabeth Bishop?
Marianne, for the Complete Prose, most especially. My veneration for Miss Moore was one time as great as some other bloggers' veneration for Cardinal Newman. She has her disaffecting points. But I'd rather read a Marianne Moore review of a book by Elizabeth Bishop than read Elizabeth Bishop. I think, if I may venture to say so, that Elizabeth Bishop would agree with my preference for Miss Moore, whilst taking obvious issue with some of my reasonings.
1. Will Smith or Denzel Washington?
"In West Philadelphia, born and raised, on the playground was where I spent most of my days." One is mystified by the "at his name every knee shall bend" tone of voice wherewith the elder fellow is often praised. He is the National Homework, the State Religion. And charm & a sense-of-humor do tip the scales somewhat decisively in Mr Smith's favor. Plus, Will Smith is a miracle worker. He has taken rap, a genre that is on balance as benign as a swastika made of anthrax, and made it ... charming. Even though some would use the word "domesticated" or "harmless" as a pejorative. With DW, I've always gotten something of a personality vibe. I use the word "personality" Obliquely.
2. Alan Greenspan or Steve Forbes?
I can listen to Steve without falling asleep. Although AG is too sexy for his shirt, I choose Forbes.
3. Marcel Proust or Monty Python?
Haven't read Proust. But if I did, I'd wager he wouldn't be as enticing or entertaining as the Python sketch in which game-show contestants are asked to summarize A la recherche du temps perdu in 15 seconds or less. Besides which : My hovercraft is full of eels.
4. Kevin Spacey or Kevin Bacon?
Hamlet or Richie Cunningham? Wallace Stevens or Edna St Vincent Millay? Spacey, by furlongs if not leagues.
5. Tony the Tiger or Charlie the Tuna?
"I'd like to be under the sea in an octopus's garden, in the shade." He's big, he's blue, he's subaqueous.
6. Matt Damon or Ben Affleck?
The talented Mr Damon. Largely on the strength of Ripley.
7. Nomar Garciaparra or Derek Jeter?
On the basis of being Bostonian, in part, but really, whose name is more fun to say?
NO - MAR .... gar - CIIIII - aaaaa - PAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR - RAAAAAAAA !!!!!
8. Robert Herrick or George Herbert?
I'm more familiar with George Herbert. He seems to have a greater number of poems that immediately magnetize our mind and implicate our attention. But Mr Riddle's preference for Herrick is by no means to be discounted, and causes me to wonder if I've read Herrick with sufficient thoroughness.
9. Alfre Woodard or Halle Berry?
Halle Berry is an able actress, from whom one doesn't easily avert the eye. But there's a regal quality to Alfre Woodard that the glossy magazines miss. She is the queen of my heart and the empress of my soul. Plus, I was disaffected, a bit, by something Ms Berry said in an interview. (Ditto Alfre Woodard, but with Halle, the damage was more lasting. Odd, when you consider I remember Alfre's remarks, but don't remember Halle's.)
10. Luke Spencer or Sonny Corinthos?
Sonny's handsomer, you might even say sexier if you were inclined to think in those terms, but he reminds me against my will of The Fonz. I half expect him to snap his fingers, and have cheerleaders gravitate toward him like iron filings to a magnet. Lucas Lorenzo Spencer is much more multifaceted, and on occasion scarier than Sonny. On frequent occasion. Luke just might be the greatest character in soap opera history.
11. Eminem or Bill Clinton?
I can conceive of a politician worse than Bill Clinton. I can listen to Bill Clinton for longer than five seconds without feeling as if I am undergoing the tortures of the damned. He did excel at the ceremonial aspects of the presidency. I think of his reading of Psalm 1 at Oklahoma City, or of Sir Stephen Spender's "I think continually of those who were truly great" at the funeral for Congresswoman Barbara Jordan. I want Eminem to develop a lifelong career-ending case of laryngitis.
12. Jamie Buchman or Debra Barone?
No bloody contest. Jamie Buchman, especially from the earlier years of Mad About You. I dream of Debra Barone quite often. She's standing on the 15-yard-line of a football gridiron. Ray comes along & kicks her through the uprights, a field goal for which more than three points should be awarded!
13. Bob Dole or Pat Moynihan?
This one makes Jamie & Debra seem close. Bob Dole was the first man in American history to resign the Presidency without having been elected to it. He just can't win, and he doesn't win here. Imagine, if you will, a Clinton/Moynihan primary in 1996. Wouldn't that have been nothing short of great? And don't we owe Pat a debt of thanks for -- unwittingly? -- helping Rudy win the '93 NYC mayor's race? Moynihan's artice on "defining deviancy down" was, for all purposes & intents, Giuliani's campaign speech. And for many more reasons than the ones just cited, acknowledging that no one's perfect & that there are cases where Dole had the right view and Moynihan the wrong view.
14. Marianne Moore or Elizabeth Bishop?
Marianne, for the Complete Prose, most especially. My veneration for Miss Moore was one time as great as some other bloggers' veneration for Cardinal Newman. She has her disaffecting points. But I'd rather read a Marianne Moore review of a book by Elizabeth Bishop than read Elizabeth Bishop. I think, if I may venture to say so, that Elizabeth Bishop would agree with my preference for Miss Moore, whilst taking obvious issue with some of my reasonings.
Fred Reed's latest
A mite jaundiced, and perhaps more than a mite. When he writes "I do not oppose racial discrimination against blacks" (I read the sentence ten times before I was certain I was reading right), I can see why.
You see, he's fed up. He's fed up with aggressive racial chauvinism, and African-Americans today are (I'll phrase the matter primly, politely, temperately) not guiltless of this particular form of intransigent unbenevolence. He doesn't favor discrimination against blacks, but he can no longer bring himself to care whether a complaint about racism made by an individual African-American, or a group of blacks, is legitimate.
You become what you behold, one might say. If you see blacks fanatically attached with left-wing politics in a way that makes James Carville seem equivocal and unobnoxious, and if you see a racial self-interest that is hardly less culpable than that of Eugene "Bull" Connor, it does deplete the available supply of your tallerwince & thenthitivity.
When you see a commentator write that a pair of judges recently nominated by the President are "no friends of the community," simply because they are not slavishly obeisant to the divisive lunacies of the African-American left (Quotas in perpetuity! Reparations now!), a certain, uhm, disgruntlement can creep in to the tenor of your rhetoric.
While some of this latest Fred rant is a bit much, even for the paleolithically neanderthal likes of me, it is cheering to know that someone is talking about the things we shouldn't talk about. In a manner that is, as always, effervescent, provocative, and cheerfully pessimistic.
A mite jaundiced, and perhaps more than a mite. When he writes "I do not oppose racial discrimination against blacks" (I read the sentence ten times before I was certain I was reading right), I can see why.
You see, he's fed up. He's fed up with aggressive racial chauvinism, and African-Americans today are (I'll phrase the matter primly, politely, temperately) not guiltless of this particular form of intransigent unbenevolence. He doesn't favor discrimination against blacks, but he can no longer bring himself to care whether a complaint about racism made by an individual African-American, or a group of blacks, is legitimate.
You become what you behold, one might say. If you see blacks fanatically attached with left-wing politics in a way that makes James Carville seem equivocal and unobnoxious, and if you see a racial self-interest that is hardly less culpable than that of Eugene "Bull" Connor, it does deplete the available supply of your tallerwince & thenthitivity.
When you see a commentator write that a pair of judges recently nominated by the President are "no friends of the community," simply because they are not slavishly obeisant to the divisive lunacies of the African-American left (Quotas in perpetuity! Reparations now!), a certain, uhm, disgruntlement can creep in to the tenor of your rhetoric.
While some of this latest Fred rant is a bit much, even for the paleolithically neanderthal likes of me, it is cheering to know that someone is talking about the things we shouldn't talk about. In a manner that is, as always, effervescent, provocative, and cheerfully pessimistic.
George Will
via the B from the C
has a few questions ... 15 at the end of this column ... intended to promote intellectual diversity.
Something sorely needed in our universities, and in other precincts of our society.
A sampling of Will's questionnaire :
The Supreme Court's principal function is (a) to wield the Constitution as a living document to right all wrongs (b) to protect the Second Amendment.
U.S. policy toward Iraq should be: (a) give peace a chance (b) pave it.
Were you home schooled?
Do you watch Fox News Channel?
America's coolest anchorman is (a) Tom Brokaw (b) Dan Rather (c) Peter Jennings (d) Brit Hume.
Do you read National Review while listening to Rush Limbaugh?
America's worst failing is (a) racism (b) sexism (c) inequality (d) imperialism (e) respect for the United Nations.
[dylan says : a tie between (e) and (f) Colin Powell continues to be Secretary of State]
Who is the more plausible president: (a) Martin Sheen of "The West Wing"? (b) John Edwards of North Carolina? (c) Any of the Dixie Chicks?
via the B from the C
has a few questions ... 15 at the end of this column ... intended to promote intellectual diversity.
Something sorely needed in our universities, and in other precincts of our society.
A sampling of Will's questionnaire :
The Supreme Court's principal function is (a) to wield the Constitution as a living document to right all wrongs (b) to protect the Second Amendment.
U.S. policy toward Iraq should be: (a) give peace a chance (b) pave it.
Were you home schooled?
Do you watch Fox News Channel?
America's coolest anchorman is (a) Tom Brokaw (b) Dan Rather (c) Peter Jennings (d) Brit Hume.
Do you read National Review while listening to Rush Limbaugh?
America's worst failing is (a) racism (b) sexism (c) inequality (d) imperialism (e) respect for the United Nations.
[dylan says : a tie between (e) and (f) Colin Powell continues to be Secretary of State]
Who is the more plausible president: (a) Martin Sheen of "The West Wing"? (b) John Edwards of North Carolina? (c) Any of the Dixie Chicks?
Who's cooler?
Pray, avoid ties. And maybe, if you feel the need to, add a brief word explaining/justifying your choice.
Some may not recognize all the pairings in this baker's dozen (plus one for good luck) of non-lethal duels; so, leave blanks if you must. Or pick one anyway, based on a total lack of knowledge!
1. Will Smith or Denzel Washington?
2. Alan Greenspan or Steve Forbes?
3. Marcel Proust or Monty Python?
4. Kevin Spacey or Kevin Bacon?
5. Tony the Tiger or Charlie the Tuna?
6. Matt Damon or Ben Affleck?
7. Nomar Garciaparra or Derek Jeter?
8. Robert Herrick or George Herbert?
9. Alfre Woodard or Halle Berry?
10. Luke Spencer or Sonny Corinthos?
11. Eminem or Bill Clinton?
12. Jamie Buchman or Debra Barone?
13. Bob Dole or Pat Moynihan?
14. Marianne Moore or Elizabeth Bishop?
Pray, avoid ties. And maybe, if you feel the need to, add a brief word explaining/justifying your choice.
Some may not recognize all the pairings in this baker's dozen (plus one for good luck) of non-lethal duels; so, leave blanks if you must. Or pick one anyway, based on a total lack of knowledge!
1. Will Smith or Denzel Washington?
2. Alan Greenspan or Steve Forbes?
3. Marcel Proust or Monty Python?
4. Kevin Spacey or Kevin Bacon?
5. Tony the Tiger or Charlie the Tuna?
6. Matt Damon or Ben Affleck?
7. Nomar Garciaparra or Derek Jeter?
8. Robert Herrick or George Herbert?
9. Alfre Woodard or Halle Berry?
10. Luke Spencer or Sonny Corinthos?
11. Eminem or Bill Clinton?
12. Jamie Buchman or Debra Barone?
13. Bob Dole or Pat Moynihan?
14. Marianne Moore or Elizabeth Bishop?
Sunday, January 26, 2003
that friday five thing which i easily confuse with monday mission and which i almost never do and which i'm doing incredibly late considering it's called friday five
1. What is one thing you don't like about your body?
Not suitable for either marathon running or gymnastics. Or defying gravity.
2. What are two things you love about your body?
Sixteen stone of pure man. And it's able to do most everyday things.
3. What are three things you want to change about your home?
Nothing. As for changing the world outside of it, where does one begin?
4. What are four books you want to read this year?
Want to reacquire volume 6 of the Merton journals. Leadership, by Rudolph W. Giuliani. The Sheen bio that came out a year or so ago. And something funny (maybe I'll reread Moab)!
5. What are five promises you have kept to yourself?
Can't think of that many. The ones that require a minimum of effort. Like not voting for presidential candidates from the world's oldest and most juvenile party.
1. What is one thing you don't like about your body?
Not suitable for either marathon running or gymnastics. Or defying gravity.
2. What are two things you love about your body?
Sixteen stone of pure man. And it's able to do most everyday things.
3. What are three things you want to change about your home?
Nothing. As for changing the world outside of it, where does one begin?
4. What are four books you want to read this year?
Want to reacquire volume 6 of the Merton journals. Leadership, by Rudolph W. Giuliani. The Sheen bio that came out a year or so ago. And something funny (maybe I'll reread Moab)!
5. What are five promises you have kept to yourself?
Can't think of that many. The ones that require a minimum of effort. Like not voting for presidential candidates from the world's oldest and most juvenile party.
Jeff Jacoby
Musings, random and otherwise
The 1981 incident he describes, in which Israel did us all a huge favor by destroying an Iraqi nuclear reactor, was something I found out about just last night by reading George Will!
Here's a point to ponder :
When homicidal tyrants are appeased instead of crushed, when their lust for the tools of genocide is met with words instead of deeds, young artists eventually die in concentration camps.
Musings, random and otherwise
The 1981 incident he describes, in which Israel did us all a huge favor by destroying an Iraqi nuclear reactor, was something I found out about just last night by reading George Will!
Here's a point to ponder :
When homicidal tyrants are appeased instead of crushed, when their lust for the tools of genocide is met with words instead of deeds, young artists eventually die in concentration camps.
An essay on conservatism
in three sentences
Conservatism is civilization's memory.
Conservatism is civilization's conscience.
Conservatism is civilization's immune system.
:: :: :: :: ::
These thoughts may be expatiated and expanded upon, presently. But can anyone suggest other facets of, or ways of looking at, conservatism?
in three sentences
Conservatism is civilization's memory.
Conservatism is civilization's conscience.
Conservatism is civilization's immune system.
:: :: :: :: ::
These thoughts may be expatiated and expanded upon, presently. But can anyone suggest other facets of, or ways of looking at, conservatism?
George F. Will
With a Happy Eye, But ... : America and the World 1997-2002
Only about a quarter of the way through. Resumed reading yestreen after a week or two of putting it to the side.
He quotes Mark Twain in one column : Twain once said he'd like to live in Manchester, England because there, the transition to death would be less noticeable.
He quotes Francis Fukuyama in another column (1999) as having said that "human history is no longer being driven by passionate differences." Will warned, yes, we've had a good decade, but a decade is a blip in "human history."
A glance at the index of the book shows five references to "Twain, Mark" and eleven to "Moynihan, Daniel Patrick."
Also worthy of mention :
A post-9/11 column in which Will says that the Administration should ration its use of two words : "justice" and "tragedy."
We are not going to "bring the terrorists to justice," as that implies a juridical proceeding in which a robed man wields a gavel, and a jury decides the fate of the accused. We are going to fight a war, and destroy our enemies.
As for "tragedy," it implies impersonal forces (San Francisco earthquake, plane crash) or Sophoclean or Shakespearean drama. This was an attack, on our soil, by our enemies. In which 3100 innocents were slaughtered.
Must we, Will wonders, be perpetually squeamish about using the right language?
With a Happy Eye, But ... : America and the World 1997-2002
Only about a quarter of the way through. Resumed reading yestreen after a week or two of putting it to the side.
He quotes Mark Twain in one column : Twain once said he'd like to live in Manchester, England because there, the transition to death would be less noticeable.
He quotes Francis Fukuyama in another column (1999) as having said that "human history is no longer being driven by passionate differences." Will warned, yes, we've had a good decade, but a decade is a blip in "human history."
A glance at the index of the book shows five references to "Twain, Mark" and eleven to "Moynihan, Daniel Patrick."
Also worthy of mention :
A post-9/11 column in which Will says that the Administration should ration its use of two words : "justice" and "tragedy."
We are not going to "bring the terrorists to justice," as that implies a juridical proceeding in which a robed man wields a gavel, and a jury decides the fate of the accused. We are going to fight a war, and destroy our enemies.
As for "tragedy," it implies impersonal forces (San Francisco earthquake, plane crash) or Sophoclean or Shakespearean drama. This was an attack, on our soil, by our enemies. In which 3100 innocents were slaughtered.
Must we, Will wonders, be perpetually squeamish about using the right language?
Pearl
A short-lived sitcom of, what, five or six years ago? featuring Rhea Perlman as Pearl, a 40-something working-class gal who "goes back to college," and Malcolm McDowell as her magnificently supercilious English professor, Dr Pynchon.
One day, Pearl tells Dr Pynchon that she's been reading Thomas Moore, the poet who wrote Irish Melodies. Pynchon winces in pained disbelief :
"Thomas Moore? Thomas Moore?? John Keats could eat alphabet soup and expel better poetry than Thomas Moore!"
A short-lived sitcom of, what, five or six years ago? featuring Rhea Perlman as Pearl, a 40-something working-class gal who "goes back to college," and Malcolm McDowell as her magnificently supercilious English professor, Dr Pynchon.
One day, Pearl tells Dr Pynchon that she's been reading Thomas Moore, the poet who wrote Irish Melodies. Pynchon winces in pained disbelief :
"Thomas Moore? Thomas Moore?? John Keats could eat alphabet soup and expel better poetry than Thomas Moore!"
Saturday, January 25, 2003
M*A*S*H
(the sitcom)
Charles [To Col. Potter] : You can cut me off from the civilized world -- you can incarcerate me with two moronic cellmates -- you can torture me with your thrice-daily swill -- but you cannot break the spirit of a Winchester! My voice shall arise from this fetid and festering sewer, and I shall be heard! [Spins around and storms out, triumphantly]
Col. Potter [Smiling] : I think he's beginning to get the hang of this place!
(the sitcom)
Charles [To Col. Potter] : You can cut me off from the civilized world -- you can incarcerate me with two moronic cellmates -- you can torture me with your thrice-daily swill -- but you cannot break the spirit of a Winchester! My voice shall arise from this fetid and festering sewer, and I shall be heard! [Spins around and storms out, triumphantly]
Col. Potter [Smiling] : I think he's beginning to get the hang of this place!
Joe Fitzgerald, you're wrong
And I don't often say that. But here, the Boston Herald columnist upbraids Newark's Archbishop Myers for taking the life out of funerals with the eulogy ban.
If I'm ever a mourner at a funeral Mass in a Catholic church and someone plays Tony Bennett, I will walk out, or begin to strangle myself with my necktie.
Perry Como singing Ave Maria, that's fine. The Miserable Offenders singing There's a wideness in God's mercy -- even better.
I've already related a eulogy horror-story at another weblog's comment-box. I may repost it here, or send it along to Mr Fitzgerald, who ostensibly knows better than any Catholic how the Ecclesia should conduct itself at what is rumored to be a divine liturgy.
And I don't often say that. But here, the Boston Herald columnist upbraids Newark's Archbishop Myers for taking the life out of funerals with the eulogy ban.
If I'm ever a mourner at a funeral Mass in a Catholic church and someone plays Tony Bennett, I will walk out, or begin to strangle myself with my necktie.
Perry Como singing Ave Maria, that's fine. The Miserable Offenders singing There's a wideness in God's mercy -- even better.
I've already related a eulogy horror-story at another weblog's comment-box. I may repost it here, or send it along to Mr Fitzgerald, who ostensibly knows better than any Catholic how the Ecclesia should conduct itself at what is rumored to be a divine liturgy.
Memorandum to self
Begin a thorough investigation of this poet's work! Which looks to be consistently first-rate.
Begin a thorough investigation of this poet's work! Which looks to be consistently first-rate.
Twain redux
Other reasons I might not be a Twain enthusiast :
1) Nineteenth-century Middle America doesn't entice me. Give me 20th and 21st century New England any journée of the semaine.
2) I can't imagine myself as, or appreciably "identify with," any character in his books. Sometimes one needs to be able to do that.
3) I've heard he was rather anti-ecclesial. The noted Redemptorist, Fr Joseph Manton once quoted Twain as having said, "If you gathered all the 'relics of the True Cross' together, you could build a fleet of battleships." Manton's retort : The only thing funny about that blasphemous remark to the 20th century ear is the idea of wooden battleships.
4) As said before, I've heard him proferred as the saint of plain speech, and in literature there is no mannerism more vexing than the mannerism of plainness.
5) He is very much homework. I have zero reason to look at his work, outside of classroom compulsion.
Other reasons I might not be a Twain enthusiast :
1) Nineteenth-century Middle America doesn't entice me. Give me 20th and 21st century New England any journée of the semaine.
2) I can't imagine myself as, or appreciably "identify with," any character in his books. Sometimes one needs to be able to do that.
3) I've heard he was rather anti-ecclesial. The noted Redemptorist, Fr Joseph Manton once quoted Twain as having said, "If you gathered all the 'relics of the True Cross' together, you could build a fleet of battleships." Manton's retort : The only thing funny about that blasphemous remark to the 20th century ear is the idea of wooden battleships.
4) As said before, I've heard him proferred as the saint of plain speech, and in literature there is no mannerism more vexing than the mannerism of plainness.
5) He is very much homework. I have zero reason to look at his work, outside of classroom compulsion.
And vindictiveness for all
Mediocracy redux
Fred Reed on anti-gun hysteria (extending to fake, and therefore harmless, unweapons), on the "persecution" of smokers, on homeland insecurity (correctness hampering efficiency), on racial tensions, on sexual tensions, on "the Stalinism of the inadequate." (Somehow, the phrase Stalinism of the adequate would have seemed more damning. The tyranny of the OK. The oppression of the ordinary.)
Somehow, Mr. Reed manages to stay ebullient and of good cheer. Maybe because, if I've read his other columns aright, he's now living in Mexico.
Mediocracy redux
Fred Reed on anti-gun hysteria (extending to fake, and therefore harmless, unweapons), on the "persecution" of smokers, on homeland insecurity (correctness hampering efficiency), on racial tensions, on sexual tensions, on "the Stalinism of the inadequate." (Somehow, the phrase Stalinism of the adequate would have seemed more damning. The tyranny of the OK. The oppression of the ordinary.)
Somehow, Mr. Reed manages to stay ebullient and of good cheer. Maybe because, if I've read his other columns aright, he's now living in Mexico.
"I think the Church is top-heavy papal"
says a dear friend of mine, more than halfway through his eighth decade. Something about episcopal appointments. A matter of such importance shouldn't be left to the Universal Pontiff; the editorial board of Commonweal (or, as he calls it, remembering its quondam title, The Commonweal) should have a say!
And of course, there are those who see "oppression" in papal authority, whether in the gentlest of gentle pronouncements that certain writers are not consistently orthodox; whether it be in the attempted reintroduction of some dignified liturgical norms, etc.
But let the Holy Father say something about, oh, the death penalty, and it's amazing how quickly the disciples of plebiscite, the apostles of referendum, the evangelists of collegiality, the prophets of pick-and-choose ... become ultramontane in their insistence that the Holy See, like Glenn Close, is not to be ignored.
says a dear friend of mine, more than halfway through his eighth decade. Something about episcopal appointments. A matter of such importance shouldn't be left to the Universal Pontiff; the editorial board of Commonweal (or, as he calls it, remembering its quondam title, The Commonweal) should have a say!
And of course, there are those who see "oppression" in papal authority, whether in the gentlest of gentle pronouncements that certain writers are not consistently orthodox; whether it be in the attempted reintroduction of some dignified liturgical norms, etc.
But let the Holy Father say something about, oh, the death penalty, and it's amazing how quickly the disciples of plebiscite, the apostles of referendum, the evangelists of collegiality, the prophets of pick-and-choose ... become ultramontane in their insistence that the Holy See, like Glenn Close, is not to be ignored.
A prayerful anamnesis
for all those whose lives have been cut short by violence, whether in the womb, in youth, in young adulthood. With remembrance of the lost and the missing. William Luse at Apologia, and at his best.
for all those whose lives have been cut short by violence, whether in the womb, in youth, in young adulthood. With remembrance of the lost and the missing. William Luse at Apologia, and at his best.
What's in a name?
John Derbyshire, with a felicitous examination of diversity in onomastics.
As he examines the more baroque sobriquets, the more eccentric handles, take especial note of that tenpin bowling champion from Hong Kong, circa 1972.
John Derbyshire, with a felicitous examination of diversity in onomastics.
As he examines the more baroque sobriquets, the more eccentric handles, take especial note of that tenpin bowling champion from Hong Kong, circa 1972.
Friday, January 24, 2003
Nouwen : my view
on what would have been his 71st birthday
(see also comment-box to Nouwen post below)
I should add that I like the journals, even the ones that aren't precisely evidence of orthodoxy. I have a fond attachment to Sabbatical Journey in part because of the circumstances of its purchase (where, when, who with) ... also read The Road to Daybreak with unflagging interest. The thin volume on the Sacred Heart was tolerable. I didn't like an early book called The Way of the Heart.
Did like the 1970s timepiece With Open Hands, with the black-and-white photographs & semi-poetic texts. Copies of the old version are still floating about! I have a weakness for such things.
His daybook, Bread for the Journey is good enough, with some vexingly "soft" passages -- so I'd recommend trying to find it used, rather than buying it new. Worth about six dollars -- not 20!
I've read The Inner Voice of Love about four times, hoping to see what others see in it, or even a glimmer, but ... (I'd like to try to write a book like that, even though I didn't quite admire it. Does that make any sense whatsoever?)
I admire Nouwen especially for his unswerving dedication to the discipline of writing. I don't think he was a great (and sometimes not exactly a helpful) theologian, but we might read Nouwen as we read Samuel Pepys or Thomas Merton or any other great/prolific diarist.
As Arthur said to Hobson discussing fish and their monotonous diet of seafood : "What are your thoughts?"
on what would have been his 71st birthday
(see also comment-box to Nouwen post below)
I should add that I like the journals, even the ones that aren't precisely evidence of orthodoxy. I have a fond attachment to Sabbatical Journey in part because of the circumstances of its purchase (where, when, who with) ... also read The Road to Daybreak with unflagging interest. The thin volume on the Sacred Heart was tolerable. I didn't like an early book called The Way of the Heart.
Did like the 1970s timepiece With Open Hands, with the black-and-white photographs & semi-poetic texts. Copies of the old version are still floating about! I have a weakness for such things.
His daybook, Bread for the Journey is good enough, with some vexingly "soft" passages -- so I'd recommend trying to find it used, rather than buying it new. Worth about six dollars -- not 20!
I've read The Inner Voice of Love about four times, hoping to see what others see in it, or even a glimmer, but ... (I'd like to try to write a book like that, even though I didn't quite admire it. Does that make any sense whatsoever?)
I admire Nouwen especially for his unswerving dedication to the discipline of writing. I don't think he was a great (and sometimes not exactly a helpful) theologian, but we might read Nouwen as we read Samuel Pepys or Thomas Merton or any other great/prolific diarist.
As Arthur said to Hobson discussing fish and their monotonous diet of seafood : "What are your thoughts?"
Am removing
the link that was here. Because I'm wagering that I'm not the only person in the world who is driven to the point of madness by fatuity, by obscenity, by criminal affronts to right reason, by a perversion of American ideals, or by a priest of the Ecclesia endorsing unjust discrimination as a cure for unjust discrimination, in ostensible ignorance of Mark 3:23.
the link that was here. Because I'm wagering that I'm not the only person in the world who is driven to the point of madness by fatuity, by obscenity, by criminal affronts to right reason, by a perversion of American ideals, or by a priest of the Ecclesia endorsing unjust discrimination as a cure for unjust discrimination, in ostensible ignorance of Mark 3:23.
Bishop Weigand's homily
in which Gov. Davis of California is taken to task for his un-Catholic views on the sanctity of life. Via Exceptional Marriages, alias Heart, Mind & Strength.
I'm also linking to Lane Core's excellent post on this subject.
Is it premature to shout our bravissimi over what at this point is merely a recommended voluntary self-excommunication?
in which Gov. Davis of California is taken to task for his un-Catholic views on the sanctity of life. Via Exceptional Marriages, alias Heart, Mind & Strength.
I'm also linking to Lane Core's excellent post on this subject.
Is it premature to shout our bravissimi over what at this point is merely a recommended voluntary self-excommunication?
When I grow up
I want to be as rational, as sober, as thoughtful, as mature, as clear-headed, as sound-minded, as unprejudiced, as unfrantic, as unstupid, as fair, as just, as noble, as subtle, as incisive, as intellectual, as reflective, as keen, as averse from invective, as non-juvenile, as generous of heart, as pure of soul, as honest, as decent, as incontrovertibly right as this particular commentator, who calls Condoleezza Rice the devil's handmaiden.
I want to be as rational, as sober, as thoughtful, as mature, as clear-headed, as sound-minded, as unprejudiced, as unfrantic, as unstupid, as fair, as just, as noble, as subtle, as incisive, as intellectual, as reflective, as keen, as averse from invective, as non-juvenile, as generous of heart, as pure of soul, as honest, as decent, as incontrovertibly right as this particular commentator, who calls Condoleezza Rice the devil's handmaiden.
Love that dirty water ... oh, Boston, you're my home!
And Boston is truly blessed to have as its soi-disant "paper of record" the Boston Globe, which recently published some eye-popping jaw-dropping WTF?-inspiring praise of our senior US Senator. Infelicitous? Insensitive? Or just typically progressive? Here's Mark Steyn's take.
Via everybody who linked to it before I did!
And Boston is truly blessed to have as its soi-disant "paper of record" the Boston Globe, which recently published some eye-popping jaw-dropping WTF?-inspiring praise of our senior US Senator. Infelicitous? Insensitive? Or just typically progressive? Here's Mark Steyn's take.
Via everybody who linked to it before I did!
Twain
Am I the only heretic? Is there anyone else who can go for, oh, decades without looking at Mark Twain and not miss him?
Even accounting for my more-than-slight bias against the genre of fiction, I don't react in a ... reactionary ... fashion when I hear Hawthorne or Melville or O. Henry praised. Praise Thomas Hardy and Henry James, and I might not be as enthusiastic, but I'll accede to the feasibility of the praise, and note that there is considerable merit there. Praise Dostoyevsky. Praise Robert B. Parker. Better yet, praise Dorothy Sayers.
Why don't I like Twain all that much? Is it because he was once homework? But authors I venerate were once homework!
Is it because Twain's world (Twain's world! Twain's world! Party time! Excellent!) isn't mine? But Hamlet's world, Lear's world, Macbeth's world isn't mine!
Do I find Twain to be void of poetry? Am I recalling the aggressive championing of Twain by a quondam chum, who said his great love arose from the writer's plainspokenness? And don't I prefer the occasional display of verbal panache?
What's the deal with me and Twain?
And does anyone else share the unenthusiasm?
Am I the only heretic? Is there anyone else who can go for, oh, decades without looking at Mark Twain and not miss him?
Even accounting for my more-than-slight bias against the genre of fiction, I don't react in a ... reactionary ... fashion when I hear Hawthorne or Melville or O. Henry praised. Praise Thomas Hardy and Henry James, and I might not be as enthusiastic, but I'll accede to the feasibility of the praise, and note that there is considerable merit there. Praise Dostoyevsky. Praise Robert B. Parker. Better yet, praise Dorothy Sayers.
Why don't I like Twain all that much? Is it because he was once homework? But authors I venerate were once homework!
Is it because Twain's world (Twain's world! Twain's world! Party time! Excellent!) isn't mine? But Hamlet's world, Lear's world, Macbeth's world isn't mine!
Do I find Twain to be void of poetry? Am I recalling the aggressive championing of Twain by a quondam chum, who said his great love arose from the writer's plainspokenness? And don't I prefer the occasional display of verbal panache?
What's the deal with me and Twain?
And does anyone else share the unenthusiasm?
You know what my problem is?
I'm just too sub-neopathically preter-paleo post-avant-averse. Not to obsessify over it.
Are you a hardy soul? Are you just plain crazy? Do you want to read some really, really, REALLY bad prose? I mean, painfully (nay : infernally) bad?
One of the "language poets" has a weblog, and in referring us to other weblogs he likes, gives us the most algogenic, the most dolorific, the most blindingly hurtful-like-a-migraine superjargonized prose ... you can't even describe it without ... [shudder] ...
It's my "fear of the Other," that's what it is.
Via Sainteros, who had a quieter reaction of perplexity at the "post-avant."
I'm just too sub-neopathically preter-paleo post-avant-averse. Not to obsessify over it.
Are you a hardy soul? Are you just plain crazy? Do you want to read some really, really, REALLY bad prose? I mean, painfully (nay : infernally) bad?
One of the "language poets" has a weblog, and in referring us to other weblogs he likes, gives us the most algogenic, the most dolorific, the most blindingly hurtful-like-a-migraine superjargonized prose ... you can't even describe it without ... [shudder] ...
It's my "fear of the Other," that's what it is.
Via Sainteros, who had a quieter reaction of perplexity at the "post-avant."
Ch-ch-ch-ch-chan-ges
turn and face the strange
Added to template margin : The Boston Herald and NRO.
Also cleft the "Poetry, culture, politics" catch-all in twain : Politics, papers, periodicals and Poetry & culture.
turn and face the strange
Added to template margin : The Boston Herald and NRO.
Also cleft the "Poetry, culture, politics" catch-all in twain : Politics, papers, periodicals and Poetry & culture.
James Lileks
via Andrew Sullivan, again!
On the "personality" of actor Ed Harris. The anti-W remarks are quoted in full, and decisively (but amusingly) refuted.
Start reading at "Let's say I'm the casting director for a movie." And continue reading for several long (well-written sharp-thinking clear-seeing entertaining) paragraphs.
via Andrew Sullivan, again!
On the "personality" of actor Ed Harris. The anti-W remarks are quoted in full, and decisively (but amusingly) refuted.
Start reading at "Let's say I'm the casting director for a movie." And continue reading for several long (well-written sharp-thinking clear-seeing entertaining) paragraphs.
My surgeon likes to drink
... in the morning
... at a tavern called The Axe
... is that a bad thing?
Read that, and other amusing moments, in the most recent Pepys.
... in the morning
... at a tavern called The Axe
... is that a bad thing?
Read that, and other amusing moments, in the most recent Pepys.
Thursday, January 23, 2003
Larry Elder
criticizes filmmaker Michael Moore for bigoted stereotypes in this article for the Jewish World Review.
But do take note of the statistics that Elder proffers midway through the article ...
criticizes filmmaker Michael Moore for bigoted stereotypes in this article for the Jewish World Review.
But do take note of the statistics that Elder proffers midway through the article ...
The Breakfast Club
I think I saw this film 16 times before it left the cinema, in the early months of 1985. I absolutely loved it.
But the blogger at Classic Catholic (see Places Oft Visited) expresses qualms, here and here -- reservations about the film that seem quite wise.
I seem to remember, though, that no one really crashed through the plate-glass window; merely, that it was screamed to smithereens!
Eccentric addendum : I wonder, sometimes, if the main point of the John Hughes films wasn't or was to get us ready for the Clinton era. Think about Ferris Bueller's Day Off. A cute pathological liar, with his stiff sidekick ("so tight if you took a lump of coal," etc.) ...
And then there were various sitcoms that helped prepare us : Night Court (John Larroquette and Markie Post); Cheers (Ted Danson and Shelley Long) ...
It's the vast left-wing conspiracy, that's what it is!
And Johnny Bender's revolution against the uptight authority-figures was part of it ...
I think I saw this film 16 times before it left the cinema, in the early months of 1985. I absolutely loved it.
But the blogger at Classic Catholic (see Places Oft Visited) expresses qualms, here and here -- reservations about the film that seem quite wise.
I seem to remember, though, that no one really crashed through the plate-glass window; merely, that it was screamed to smithereens!
Eccentric addendum : I wonder, sometimes, if the main point of the John Hughes films wasn't or was to get us ready for the Clinton era. Think about Ferris Bueller's Day Off. A cute pathological liar, with his stiff sidekick ("so tight if you took a lump of coal," etc.) ...
And then there were various sitcoms that helped prepare us : Night Court (John Larroquette and Markie Post); Cheers (Ted Danson and Shelley Long) ...
It's the vast left-wing conspiracy, that's what it is!
And Johnny Bender's revolution against the uptight authority-figures was part of it ...
Gossip
Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment -- John 7.24
Sarah, the church gossip and self-appointed supervisor of the church's morals, kept sticking her nose into other people's business. Several members were unappreciative of her activities, but feared her enough to maintain their silence.
She made a mistake, however, when she accused George, a new member, of being an alcoholic after she saw his pickup truck parked in front of the town's only bar one afternoon. She commented to George and others that everyone seeing it there would know that he was an alcoholic. George, a man of few words, stared at her for a moment and just walked away. He said nothing.
Later that evening, George quietly parked his pickup in front of Sarah's house, and left it there all night.
Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment -- John 7.24
Sarah, the church gossip and self-appointed supervisor of the church's morals, kept sticking her nose into other people's business. Several members were unappreciative of her activities, but feared her enough to maintain their silence.
She made a mistake, however, when she accused George, a new member, of being an alcoholic after she saw his pickup truck parked in front of the town's only bar one afternoon. She commented to George and others that everyone seeing it there would know that he was an alcoholic. George, a man of few words, stared at her for a moment and just walked away. He said nothing.
Later that evening, George quietly parked his pickup in front of Sarah's house, and left it there all night.
Feisty rabbi 'excommunicates' Lieberman
at yesterday's March for Life in Washington
... a smallish portion of which I saw via C-Span ...
"If your 'orthodoxy' permits you to promote deviancy and abortion, the only 'orthodox' you are is an orthodox liberal!" And "excommunicate" was the word the rabbi used to declare that Joe Lieberman's Orthodoxy was, well, spurious.
Wish I remembered the rabbi's name (update, via Mighty Barrister : Rabbi Yehuda Levin).
He said he began marching for life as a young unmarried man, "and now, 24 years and 150 pounds later, I'm a grandfather!"
Everyone looked really happy to be there, even though the weather was a tad Siberian (but not nearly as Siberian as in these parts!). You had Congressman Ryun (former world-record mile-runner), former Congressman Dornan (soft-spoken and reticent, as always) and scores of schoolkids and oldsters from the "grass roots." Marvelous and moving sight.
A less than perfectly canonical thought : Wouldn't Bob Dornan make an interesting bishop?
And is it possible that the feisty rabbi was -- in addition to telling Sen. Lieberman to go chase himself -- tweaking the Catholic episcopate for its insouciance about soi-disant Catholic politicians militating against the laws of God as they pertain to incipient life?
at yesterday's March for Life in Washington
... a smallish portion of which I saw via C-Span ...
"If your 'orthodoxy' permits you to promote deviancy and abortion, the only 'orthodox' you are is an orthodox liberal!" And "excommunicate" was the word the rabbi used to declare that Joe Lieberman's Orthodoxy was, well, spurious.
Wish I remembered the rabbi's name (update, via Mighty Barrister : Rabbi Yehuda Levin).
He said he began marching for life as a young unmarried man, "and now, 24 years and 150 pounds later, I'm a grandfather!"
Everyone looked really happy to be there, even though the weather was a tad Siberian (but not nearly as Siberian as in these parts!). You had Congressman Ryun (former world-record mile-runner), former Congressman Dornan (soft-spoken and reticent, as always) and scores of schoolkids and oldsters from the "grass roots." Marvelous and moving sight.
A less than perfectly canonical thought : Wouldn't Bob Dornan make an interesting bishop?
And is it possible that the feisty rabbi was -- in addition to telling Sen. Lieberman to go chase himself -- tweaking the Catholic episcopate for its insouciance about soi-disant Catholic politicians militating against the laws of God as they pertain to incipient life?
Psalm 28. Ad te, Domine.
UNTO thee will I cry, O LORD, my strength: * think no scorn of me; lest, if thou make as though thou hearest not, I become like them that go down into the pit.
2 Hear the voice of my humble petitions, when I cry unto thee; * when I hold up my hands towards the mercyseat of thy holy temple.
3 O pluck me not away, neither destroy me with the ungodly and wicked doers, * which speak friendly to their neighbours, but imagine mischief in their hearts.
4 Reward them according to their deeds, * and according to the wickedness of their own inventions.
5 Recompense them after the work of their hands; * pay them that they have deserved.
6 For they regard not in their mind the works of the LORD, nor the operation of his hands; * therefore shall he break them down, and not build them up.
7 Praised be the LORD; * for he hath heard the voice of my humble petitions.
8 The LORD is my strength, and my shield; my heart hath trusted in him, and I am helped; * therefore my heart danceth for joy, and in my song will I praise him.
9 The LORD is my strength, * and he is the wholesome defence of his anointed.
10 O save thy people, and give thy blessing unto thine inheritance: * feed them, and set them up for ever.
UNTO thee will I cry, O LORD, my strength: * think no scorn of me; lest, if thou make as though thou hearest not, I become like them that go down into the pit.
2 Hear the voice of my humble petitions, when I cry unto thee; * when I hold up my hands towards the mercyseat of thy holy temple.
3 O pluck me not away, neither destroy me with the ungodly and wicked doers, * which speak friendly to their neighbours, but imagine mischief in their hearts.
4 Reward them according to their deeds, * and according to the wickedness of their own inventions.
5 Recompense them after the work of their hands; * pay them that they have deserved.
6 For they regard not in their mind the works of the LORD, nor the operation of his hands; * therefore shall he break them down, and not build them up.
7 Praised be the LORD; * for he hath heard the voice of my humble petitions.
8 The LORD is my strength, and my shield; my heart hath trusted in him, and I am helped; * therefore my heart danceth for joy, and in my song will I praise him.
9 The LORD is my strength, * and he is the wholesome defence of his anointed.
10 O save thy people, and give thy blessing unto thine inheritance: * feed them, and set them up for ever.
Wednesday, January 22, 2003
Book 'em, Danno!
I have heard of persons who watch Hawaii Five-O in reruns, & place bets at the beginning of the episode as to whether McGarrett will say the immortal phrase above, or some variation. "Okay, Danno, book him."
Perhaps something similar could be done with the installments of Pepys' Diary that are appearing here. Should we make polite wagers as to whether the diarist will, on a given day, employ the phrase : "And so to bed" ???
Then again, how could we obviate cheating from those who own "dead tree" editions of the Diary?
Oh, well. Just a thought.
I have heard of persons who watch Hawaii Five-O in reruns, & place bets at the beginning of the episode as to whether McGarrett will say the immortal phrase above, or some variation. "Okay, Danno, book him."
Perhaps something similar could be done with the installments of Pepys' Diary that are appearing here. Should we make polite wagers as to whether the diarist will, on a given day, employ the phrase : "And so to bed" ???
Then again, how could we obviate cheating from those who own "dead tree" editions of the Diary?
Oh, well. Just a thought.
James Lileks
via Andrew Sullivan
with some trenchant and necessarily corrective thoughts on the subject of Communism. Much romanticized in certain precincts of our politics.
Scroll down a ways to the section beginning "I spent the morning retweaking a column on the weekend antiwar rallies."
via Andrew Sullivan
with some trenchant and necessarily corrective thoughts on the subject of Communism. Much romanticized in certain precincts of our politics.
Scroll down a ways to the section beginning "I spent the morning retweaking a column on the weekend antiwar rallies."
Dom Bede Griffiths, OSB and Miles Coverdale
Two days ago, the Catholic Blog for Lovers noted the 434th anniversary of the death of Miles Coverdale, an Augustinian friar turned vigorous Protestant, a translator of Scripture whose version of the Psalms was used in every Book of Common Prayer up to and including the 1928 American edition.
I've often said that the 1928 BCP Psalter, virtually identical to the 1662 BCP Psalter, is my favorite translation of the Psalms of David. It is Coverdale's handiwork. I find in it a felicity of phrasing like none other. Perhaps two moments where the glory is somewhat dimmed, but not appreciably more than that.
We find confirmation of our preference in the autobiography of the British-born Benedictine, Bede Griffiths, a man intensely concerned with Eastern religion and interfaith dialogue, who founded a monastery (I think he preferred the term, Christian ashram) in India.
Bede Griffiths was a very good friend and correspondent of ... C S Lewis! And he wrote, Griffiths did, an autobiography called The Golden String. From that book, this passage (describing his reversion, after youthful wanderings, to Christianity, initially as a high-Church Anglican) :
I had not prayed since I had been at school, but the change which had now taken place in my mind made it seem natural to do so, and the Book of Common Prayer offered a perfect method of prayer. The Psalms and the Canticles of the Gospel in Coverdale's version came to me as poetry in a way that made the transition to prayer almost imperceptible. I had gone to the poetry of Wordsworth, Shelley and Keats in my early days at school in order to find my experience of the mystery and beauty of nature renewed and enlarged; for poetry is the means by which the feelings and the imagination are educated and their powers developed. Then my vision of human life and especially of its underlying tragedy had been extended by Shakespeare and Sophocles and by the great novelists. Now my horizon was being enlarged and the mystery of God's dealings with humanity and with the individual soul became apparent to me through my reading of the Bible. But it was the same path of imaginative experience which I had been following all the time; and now I found that the words of the Psalms came to me like pure poetry awaking the sense of God's power over nature and His providence over the human soul, and I prayed the Psalms almost without realising it.
:: :: :: :: ::
Bede Griffiths, The Golden String : An Autobiography (Springfield, Ill.: Templegate Publishers, 1980), pp. 90-1.
Two days ago, the Catholic Blog for Lovers noted the 434th anniversary of the death of Miles Coverdale, an Augustinian friar turned vigorous Protestant, a translator of Scripture whose version of the Psalms was used in every Book of Common Prayer up to and including the 1928 American edition.
I've often said that the 1928 BCP Psalter, virtually identical to the 1662 BCP Psalter, is my favorite translation of the Psalms of David. It is Coverdale's handiwork. I find in it a felicity of phrasing like none other. Perhaps two moments where the glory is somewhat dimmed, but not appreciably more than that.
We find confirmation of our preference in the autobiography of the British-born Benedictine, Bede Griffiths, a man intensely concerned with Eastern religion and interfaith dialogue, who founded a monastery (I think he preferred the term, Christian ashram) in India.
Bede Griffiths was a very good friend and correspondent of ... C S Lewis! And he wrote, Griffiths did, an autobiography called The Golden String. From that book, this passage (describing his reversion, after youthful wanderings, to Christianity, initially as a high-Church Anglican) :
I had not prayed since I had been at school, but the change which had now taken place in my mind made it seem natural to do so, and the Book of Common Prayer offered a perfect method of prayer. The Psalms and the Canticles of the Gospel in Coverdale's version came to me as poetry in a way that made the transition to prayer almost imperceptible. I had gone to the poetry of Wordsworth, Shelley and Keats in my early days at school in order to find my experience of the mystery and beauty of nature renewed and enlarged; for poetry is the means by which the feelings and the imagination are educated and their powers developed. Then my vision of human life and especially of its underlying tragedy had been extended by Shakespeare and Sophocles and by the great novelists. Now my horizon was being enlarged and the mystery of God's dealings with humanity and with the individual soul became apparent to me through my reading of the Bible. But it was the same path of imaginative experience which I had been following all the time; and now I found that the words of the Psalms came to me like pure poetry awaking the sense of God's power over nature and His providence over the human soul, and I prayed the Psalms almost without realising it.
:: :: :: :: ::
Bede Griffiths, The Golden String : An Autobiography (Springfield, Ill.: Templegate Publishers, 1980), pp. 90-1.
We hear yet again
in certain quarters
a reiteration of the immitigably rancid, intellectually bankrupt, emetic absurdity that persons who oppose race quotas are racist.
Well. So be it. The word is now void of any meaning it used to possess.
An intolerant ethnochauvinism is a virtue. Or a vice. It all depends on who's being chauvinistic.
A blogger has mocked the President for his less-than-earthshattering insight that prejudice still exists in America. Perhaps we can add the needed acuity to the President's remarks by noting : And some of yesterday's victims are today's villains.
in certain quarters
a reiteration of the immitigably rancid, intellectually bankrupt, emetic absurdity that persons who oppose race quotas are racist.
Well. So be it. The word is now void of any meaning it used to possess.
An intolerant ethnochauvinism is a virtue. Or a vice. It all depends on who's being chauvinistic.
A blogger has mocked the President for his less-than-earthshattering insight that prejudice still exists in America. Perhaps we can add the needed acuity to the President's remarks by noting : And some of yesterday's victims are today's villains.
FMG
"Our bodies are blessed, but we don't know how to live harmoniously in them. We drive them like vehicles, use them like tools to dig pleasure, and in the process damage them and distort our capacity to understand them. Fasting disciplines help us quiet these impulsive demands, so that we can better hear what they need and how they are meant to work. It is a turning toward health, a way of honoring creation and preparing for eternity.
"Fasting is a good way to begin to corral the impulses of the body. But what about the wandering mind?"
:: :: :: :: ::
Frederica Mathewes-Green, The Illumined Heart : The Ancient Christian Path of Transformation (Paraclete Press, 2001), p. 58
"Our bodies are blessed, but we don't know how to live harmoniously in them. We drive them like vehicles, use them like tools to dig pleasure, and in the process damage them and distort our capacity to understand them. Fasting disciplines help us quiet these impulsive demands, so that we can better hear what they need and how they are meant to work. It is a turning toward health, a way of honoring creation and preparing for eternity.
"Fasting is a good way to begin to corral the impulses of the body. But what about the wandering mind?"
:: :: :: :: ::
Frederica Mathewes-Green, The Illumined Heart : The Ancient Christian Path of Transformation (Paraclete Press, 2001), p. 58
O'Reilly 1, Sullivan 0
Bill O'Reilly at Jewish World Review on Eminem.
Andrew disagrees, & in disagreeing, uses another journalist's name as an epithet of derision. I can't see what Mr Sullivan sees in Mr Mathers, but ... no matter.
Mr Sullivan may have a ghost of a point in that Mr O'Reilly perpetrated hyperbole in comparing Eminem's "free speech" to al-Qaeda terrorism. But surely, O'Reilly's hyperbole also falls under the rubric of free speech, no?
Bill O'Reilly at Jewish World Review on Eminem.
Andrew disagrees, & in disagreeing, uses another journalist's name as an epithet of derision. I can't see what Mr Sullivan sees in Mr Mathers, but ... no matter.
Mr Sullivan may have a ghost of a point in that Mr O'Reilly perpetrated hyperbole in comparing Eminem's "free speech" to al-Qaeda terrorism. But surely, O'Reilly's hyperbole also falls under the rubric of free speech, no?
Psalm 3. Domine, quid multiplicati?
LORD, how are they increased that trouble me! * many are they that rise against me.
2 Many one there be that say of my soul, * There is no help for him in his God.
3 But thou, O LORD, art my defender; * thou art my worship, and the lifter up of my head.
4 I did call upon the LORD with my voice, * and he heard me out of his holy hill.
5 I laid me down and slept, and rose up again; * for the LORD sustained me.
6 I will not be afraid for ten thousands of the people, * that have set themselves against me round about.
7 Up, LORD, and help me, O my God, * for thou smitest all mine enemies upon the cheek-bone; thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly.
8 Salvation belongeth unto the LORD; * and thy blessing is upon thy people.
LORD, how are they increased that trouble me! * many are they that rise against me.
2 Many one there be that say of my soul, * There is no help for him in his God.
3 But thou, O LORD, art my defender; * thou art my worship, and the lifter up of my head.
4 I did call upon the LORD with my voice, * and he heard me out of his holy hill.
5 I laid me down and slept, and rose up again; * for the LORD sustained me.
6 I will not be afraid for ten thousands of the people, * that have set themselves against me round about.
7 Up, LORD, and help me, O my God, * for thou smitest all mine enemies upon the cheek-bone; thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly.
8 Salvation belongeth unto the LORD; * and thy blessing is upon thy people.
Tuesday, January 21, 2003
We swim the deep
We swim the deep
to be sung to the tune of "Gather us in ..."
Here, in the ocean, big squid are swimming,
Dodging the sharks and eating small fish;
Undersea depths with creatures are brimming:
Lobsters and crabs that you find on your dish.
We swim the deep, the whale and the dolphin;
Divers descend, are heard from no more.
Submarine snares that you could get caught in!
Best to stay dry and be safe on the shore.
:: :: :: :: ::
Inspired by another blogger's expression of elate enthusiasm (ha! not quite!) for this particular specimen of hymnody!
to be sung to the tune of "Gather us in ..."
Here, in the ocean, big squid are swimming,
Dodging the sharks and eating small fish;
Undersea depths with creatures are brimming:
Lobsters and crabs that you find on your dish.
We swim the deep, the whale and the dolphin;
Divers descend, are heard from no more.
Submarine snares that you could get caught in!
Best to stay dry and be safe on the shore.
:: :: :: :: ::
Inspired by another blogger's expression of elate enthusiasm (ha! not quite!) for this particular specimen of hymnody!
Edmund Waller (1606-1687)
Go, lovely Rose—
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her that 's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.
Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired:
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.
Then die—that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;
How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
Go, lovely Rose—
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her that 's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.
Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired:
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.
Then die—that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;
How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
Recently in Albany
Hillary fails to make the 'connection'
Chris Matthews : So what does it mean if you pick your nose in Poughkeepsie?
Sen. Clinton [Smiling an almost endearing beats-me smile & shrugging] : I don't know!
:: :: :: :: ::
Matthews didn't press the question. Nor did he explain.
Was this a question designed to call into question the authenticity of Senator Clinton's New Yorkerhood? (Uhm, you think?)
Or did we simply learn that the former First Lady has never attended a Gene Hackman film festival?
Rudy woulda knew!
"Actually, Chris, it's 'pick your feet' ... and you'd have to ask Popeye Doyle, who's no longer with us."
I saw this film for the very first time about a week before the Hardball interview of the Empire State's junior senator.
Hillary fails to make the 'connection'
Chris Matthews : So what does it mean if you pick your nose in Poughkeepsie?
Sen. Clinton [Smiling an almost endearing beats-me smile & shrugging] : I don't know!
:: :: :: :: ::
Matthews didn't press the question. Nor did he explain.
Was this a question designed to call into question the authenticity of Senator Clinton's New Yorkerhood? (Uhm, you think?)
Or did we simply learn that the former First Lady has never attended a Gene Hackman film festival?
Rudy woulda knew!
"Actually, Chris, it's 'pick your feet' ... and you'd have to ask Popeye Doyle, who's no longer with us."
I saw this film for the very first time about a week before the Hardball interview of the Empire State's junior senator.
Expectations dashed
Well, I was looking forward to the gig; but as luck would have it, I am not a Gap Casting Call Finalist.
Hélas!
They said I was 40 pounds too heavy. That's not true!
I'm five inches too short. I'm a great weight ... for somebody six-foot-four!
:: :: :: :: ::
An attempt at a joke. As Stephen Fry said in a different context, forgive these freakish humors.
Well, I was looking forward to the gig; but as luck would have it, I am not a Gap Casting Call Finalist.
Hélas!
They said I was 40 pounds too heavy. That's not true!
I'm five inches too short. I'm a great weight ... for somebody six-foot-four!
:: :: :: :: ::
An attempt at a joke. As Stephen Fry said in a different context, forgive these freakish humors.
Yes, to reiterate ...
Please tell me, readers, at once if you can't see a picture. Because sometimes I can see the picture just fine.
As with the Tracy Chapman photograph I posted here a while back (just now am I understanding Mr Luse's cryptic comment, "Is it X-rated?" Well, no -- but all he was seeing was the red X).
As with the JP2 photograph.
So do let me know if something ain't showing up as it should. In language that admits of no ambiguity!
Please tell me, readers, at once if you can't see a picture. Because sometimes I can see the picture just fine.
As with the Tracy Chapman photograph I posted here a while back (just now am I understanding Mr Luse's cryptic comment, "Is it X-rated?" Well, no -- but all he was seeing was the red X).
As with the JP2 photograph.
So do let me know if something ain't showing up as it should. In language that admits of no ambiguity!
Mediocracy
by Caryll Houselander (1901-54)
All the young men
and all the young women
hope for serenity,
a mild prosperity,
respectability,
and a dull old-age.
They want the Sunday smell --
beef in a dead street --
six days to be bored
and one to overeat.
Poor little birds in a cage,
sitting behind the bars!
It isn't life :
it's the living wage
and the night without the stars.
:: :: :: :: ::
Kilmer-Tobin Anthology (Liveright, 1955), p. 292
by Caryll Houselander (1901-54)
All the young men
and all the young women
hope for serenity,
a mild prosperity,
respectability,
and a dull old-age.
They want the Sunday smell --
beef in a dead street --
six days to be bored
and one to overeat.
Poor little birds in a cage,
sitting behind the bars!
It isn't life :
it's the living wage
and the night without the stars.
:: :: :: :: ::
Kilmer-Tobin Anthology (Liveright, 1955), p. 292
A Thought from Cardinal Newman
by Matthew Russell, SJ
The world shines bright for inexperienced eyes,
And death seems distant to the gay and strong,
And in the youthful heart proud fancies throng,
And only present good can nature prize.
How then shall youth o'er these low vapours rise,
And climb the upward path so steep and long?
And how, amid earth's sights and sounds of wrong,
Walk with pure heart and face raised to the skies?
By gazing on the infinitely Good,
Whose love must quell, or hallow every other --
By living in the shadow of the Rood,
For He that hangs there is our Elder Brother,
Who dying gave to us Himself as food,
And His own Mother as our nursing Mother.
:: :: :: :: ::
From the Kilmer-Tobin Anthology of Catholic Poets (Liveright, 1955), p. 192
by Matthew Russell, SJ
The world shines bright for inexperienced eyes,
And death seems distant to the gay and strong,
And in the youthful heart proud fancies throng,
And only present good can nature prize.
How then shall youth o'er these low vapours rise,
And climb the upward path so steep and long?
And how, amid earth's sights and sounds of wrong,
Walk with pure heart and face raised to the skies?
By gazing on the infinitely Good,
Whose love must quell, or hallow every other --
By living in the shadow of the Rood,
For He that hangs there is our Elder Brother,
Who dying gave to us Himself as food,
And His own Mother as our nursing Mother.
:: :: :: :: ::
From the Kilmer-Tobin Anthology of Catholic Poets (Liveright, 1955), p. 192
8.44 am : All righty then
A few adjustments have been made to template (do I need the definite article? -- to market, to bed, to school, to template) in the hopes of making visible the candlelight-at-Taizé picture, and the Greek cross (now placed, more fittingly, directly above "Orthodox Sites").
So :
Said the little blogger to his readership,
Do you see what I see?
Or are you still getting the "broken icon" thingie? Please let me know. I'd hate for anyone to think I'm an iconoclast!
a) Is Taizé visible?
b) Is the Greek cross visible?
A few adjustments have been made to template (do I need the definite article? -- to market, to bed, to school, to template) in the hopes of making visible the candlelight-at-Taizé picture, and the Greek cross (now placed, more fittingly, directly above "Orthodox Sites").
So :
Said the little blogger to his readership,
Do you see what I see?
Or are you still getting the "broken icon" thingie? Please let me know. I'd hate for anyone to think I'm an iconoclast!
a) Is Taizé visible?
b) Is the Greek cross visible?
Oh, yes, one more thing ...
... at the doorway about to leave, Lt. Columbo turns back to ask
The small photograph of the Greek cross that I've placed in the left margin just below "Some Catholic Blogs" and just above "Catholic Sites (votive, not VOTF)" -- is it visible to one and all?
For whatever reason, no one but I could see the JP2 photograph that I posted on the evening of the 19th, and now I'm worried that other photos might not be visible.
Please do let me know if any photograph placed here consistently refuses to appear.
But the cross is visible, right?
... at the doorway about to leave, Lt. Columbo turns back to ask
The small photograph of the Greek cross that I've placed in the left margin just below "Some Catholic Blogs" and just above "Catholic Sites (votive, not VOTF)" -- is it visible to one and all?
For whatever reason, no one but I could see the JP2 photograph that I posted on the evening of the 19th, and now I'm worried that other photos might not be visible.
Please do let me know if any photograph placed here consistently refuses to appear.
But the cross is visible, right?
Monday, January 20, 2003
The 4 Beauties, Redux
Refining, if not re-defining, a category
A few days ago in this space we spoke of the four major varieties of beauty; since then, other categories have been suggested, or have suggested themselves. But I believe that these "new" categories can be considered subsets or facets of the first.
The four beauties, as proposed here, were (and are) :
1. The Truly Beautiful
2. The Pretty, or the Conventionally Beautiful
3. The Gorgeous, or the Seductively Beautiful
4. The Cute, or the Comically Beautiful
But it may be that the first type of beauty can be divided into at least five subsets, for each of which we shall provide a pair of adjectives. These categories are by no means exhaustive, and there is a possibility that they may overlap each other. But they seem to be interesting areas of exploration :
a. The Awesome/Sublime
b. The Lovely/Radiant
c. The Happy/Wholesome
d. The Poignant/Sad
e. The Logical/True
:: :: :: :: ::
a. The Awesome/Sublime
That which is holy or godly. That which points to Transcendence in an obvious or a subtle manner. Gregorian chant. A beautiful sunset. The music of an Orthodox Divine Liturgy.
b. The Lovely/Radiant
Human beauty, most often. Or any beauty that inspires poetry of praise. Shakespeare's 18th sonnet was inspired by this type of beauty. If we speak of a person having a "glow," the Radiant is certainly present.
c. The Happy/Wholesome
The beauty of a life well lived. The beauty of health. The beauty of, well, happiness. Athletes can have this beauty; nuns can have this beauty (and sometimes nuns can have "the glow"!) .
d. The Poignant/Sad
The poignant is an example of true beauty that summons something akin to sorrow. It's the beauty that, while making us cry, is nonetheless wholly beautiful. The sadness might not inhere in the beautiful thing itself, but with an association closely connected to the thing. We listen to a singer with a beautiful voice, let us say, singing of new beginnings; and then we recall that the singer died young. Or we think of the beauty of a much-beloved from the distant past, and recall the circumstances that led to the estrangement. The poignant can lead to the gorgeousness of melancholy.
e. The Logical/True
Mathematicians might find beauty in their work. Poets might find beauty in a difficult bit of prosody, beautifully achieved. Political philosophers, or philosophers of any kind, might find beauty in a sound idea, beautifully expressed. A proverb (either biblical or secular) can possess the beauty of the Logical.
Of course, a "logic" that is at odds with the true cannot be beautiful, can it? Can we divorce the rational from the moral, and still create a thing of beauty?
:: :: :: :: ::
While promising a refinement of definition, perhaps we've just inspired more questions. But perhaps that's not so bad. Perhaps we've even stumbled into a helpful way of looking at things.
What are your thoughts?
Refining, if not re-defining, a category
A few days ago in this space we spoke of the four major varieties of beauty; since then, other categories have been suggested, or have suggested themselves. But I believe that these "new" categories can be considered subsets or facets of the first.
The four beauties, as proposed here, were (and are) :
1. The Truly Beautiful
2. The Pretty, or the Conventionally Beautiful
3. The Gorgeous, or the Seductively Beautiful
4. The Cute, or the Comically Beautiful
But it may be that the first type of beauty can be divided into at least five subsets, for each of which we shall provide a pair of adjectives. These categories are by no means exhaustive, and there is a possibility that they may overlap each other. But they seem to be interesting areas of exploration :
a. The Awesome/Sublime
b. The Lovely/Radiant
c. The Happy/Wholesome
d. The Poignant/Sad
e. The Logical/True
:: :: :: :: ::
a. The Awesome/Sublime
That which is holy or godly. That which points to Transcendence in an obvious or a subtle manner. Gregorian chant. A beautiful sunset. The music of an Orthodox Divine Liturgy.
b. The Lovely/Radiant
Human beauty, most often. Or any beauty that inspires poetry of praise. Shakespeare's 18th sonnet was inspired by this type of beauty. If we speak of a person having a "glow," the Radiant is certainly present.
c. The Happy/Wholesome
The beauty of a life well lived. The beauty of health. The beauty of, well, happiness. Athletes can have this beauty; nuns can have this beauty (and sometimes nuns can have "the glow"!) .
d. The Poignant/Sad
The poignant is an example of true beauty that summons something akin to sorrow. It's the beauty that, while making us cry, is nonetheless wholly beautiful. The sadness might not inhere in the beautiful thing itself, but with an association closely connected to the thing. We listen to a singer with a beautiful voice, let us say, singing of new beginnings; and then we recall that the singer died young. Or we think of the beauty of a much-beloved from the distant past, and recall the circumstances that led to the estrangement. The poignant can lead to the gorgeousness of melancholy.
e. The Logical/True
Mathematicians might find beauty in their work. Poets might find beauty in a difficult bit of prosody, beautifully achieved. Political philosophers, or philosophers of any kind, might find beauty in a sound idea, beautifully expressed. A proverb (either biblical or secular) can possess the beauty of the Logical.
Of course, a "logic" that is at odds with the true cannot be beautiful, can it? Can we divorce the rational from the moral, and still create a thing of beauty?
:: :: :: :: ::
While promising a refinement of definition, perhaps we've just inspired more questions. But perhaps that's not so bad. Perhaps we've even stumbled into a helpful way of looking at things.
What are your thoughts?
Jeff Jacoby has a dream
that one day the PMS Media (PMS = Polluted Main Stream) will give just and fitting scrutiny to the hateful utterances, bizarre actions, unwholesome eccentricities and graver-than-venial sins of the Rev. Al Sharpton.
that one day the PMS Media (PMS = Polluted Main Stream) will give just and fitting scrutiny to the hateful utterances, bizarre actions, unwholesome eccentricities and graver-than-venial sins of the Rev. Al Sharpton.
Marianne Moore
not unrelated to an earlier post
"To profess neutrality between a noble cause and a base cause is to express sympathy with the baser cause."
:: :: :: :: ::
I apologize for the lack of bibliographic citation. I'm almost certain it's from her collected letters, a book which I do not own. I'm fairly sure it was in reference to Indian leader Jawaharlal Nehru, in whom Miss Moore perceived a shoulder-shrugging ça m'est égal attitude of indifference between democracy and communism.
not unrelated to an earlier post
"To profess neutrality between a noble cause and a base cause is to express sympathy with the baser cause."
:: :: :: :: ::
I apologize for the lack of bibliographic citation. I'm almost certain it's from her collected letters, a book which I do not own. I'm fairly sure it was in reference to Indian leader Jawaharlal Nehru, in whom Miss Moore perceived a shoulder-shrugging ça m'est égal attitude of indifference between democracy and communism.
The venerable Noonan
on the rigid pro-aborthodoxy of the Demmies, and on the social consequences of the 40 million lives destroyed at their incipience.
on the rigid pro-aborthodoxy of the Demmies, and on the social consequences of the 40 million lives destroyed at their incipience.
He should change his first name to "must"
Well, there's this :
My last night in Arlington, chilly, portending rain, traffic heavy on Wilson Boulevard. I was doing ribs at Red, Hot, and Blue on the theory that a coronary occlusion was better than saving myself for the tumor. A benefit of life is that you have choices.
And this :
He was the squishily pretty kind of psychologist with the bikini-line beard and the condescension that comes of infinite understanding.
And this! :
Washington is the left ventricle of the heart of darkness ...
:: :: :: :: ::
From Fred Reed's latest. "This week's diseased ranting! Guaranteed reprehensible!"
Go see why it's called Watering Jane Fonda.
Well, there's this :
My last night in Arlington, chilly, portending rain, traffic heavy on Wilson Boulevard. I was doing ribs at Red, Hot, and Blue on the theory that a coronary occlusion was better than saving myself for the tumor. A benefit of life is that you have choices.
And this :
He was the squishily pretty kind of psychologist with the bikini-line beard and the condescension that comes of infinite understanding.
And this! :
Washington is the left ventricle of the heart of darkness ...
:: :: :: :: ::
From Fred Reed's latest. "This week's diseased ranting! Guaranteed reprehensible!"
Go see why it's called Watering Jane Fonda.
MLK
One day someone should remind us that, even though there may be political and ideological differences between us, the Vietnamese are our brothers, the Russians are our brothers, the Chinese are our brothers; and one day we've got to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. But in Christ there is neither Jew nor Gentile. In Christ there is neither male nor female. In Christ there is neither communist nor capitalist. In Christ, somehow, there is neither bound nor free. We are all one in Christ Jesus.
-- from "A Christmas Sermon on Peace"
:: :: :: :: ::
Two questions :
1. What's right with this passage?
2. What's wrong with this passage?
One day someone should remind us that, even though there may be political and ideological differences between us, the Vietnamese are our brothers, the Russians are our brothers, the Chinese are our brothers; and one day we've got to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. But in Christ there is neither Jew nor Gentile. In Christ there is neither male nor female. In Christ there is neither communist nor capitalist. In Christ, somehow, there is neither bound nor free. We are all one in Christ Jesus.
-- from "A Christmas Sermon on Peace"
:: :: :: :: ::
Two questions :
1. What's right with this passage?
2. What's wrong with this passage?
Yes
My problem exactly. Especially the last paragraph.
At Video meliora : Hilaire Belloc describes the effects of abstaining from drink, to which one can so easily become accustomed.
My problem exactly. Especially the last paragraph.
At Video meliora : Hilaire Belloc describes the effects of abstaining from drink, to which one can so easily become accustomed.
from Psalm 119
XIV. Lucerna pedibus meis.
THY word is a lantern unto my feet, * and a light unto my paths.
106 I have sworn, and am stedfastly purposed, * to keep thy righteous judgments.
107 I am troubled above measure: * quicken me, O LORD, according to thy word.
108 Let the free-will offerings of my mouth please thee, O LORD; * and teach me thy judgments.
109 My soul is alway in my hand; * yet do I not forget thy law.
110 The ungodly have laid a snare for me; * but yet I swerved not from thy commandments.
111 Thy testimonies have I claimed as mine heritage for ever; * and why? they are the very joy of my heart.
112 I have applied my heart to fulfil thy statutes alway, * even unto the end.
XV. Iniquos odio habui.
I HATE them that imagine evil things; * but thy law do I love.
114 Thou art my defence and shield; * and my trust is in thy word.
115 Away from me, ye wicked; * I will keep the commandments of my God.
116 O stablish me according to thy word, that I may live; * and let me not be disappointed of my hope.
117 Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe; * yea, my delight shall be ever in thy statutes.
118 Thou hast trodden down all them that depart from thy statutes; * for they imagine but deceit.
119 Thou puttest away all the ungodly of the earth like dross; * therefore I love thy testimonies.
120 My flesh trembleth for fear of thee; * and I am afraid of thy judgments.
XIV. Lucerna pedibus meis.
THY word is a lantern unto my feet, * and a light unto my paths.
106 I have sworn, and am stedfastly purposed, * to keep thy righteous judgments.
107 I am troubled above measure: * quicken me, O LORD, according to thy word.
108 Let the free-will offerings of my mouth please thee, O LORD; * and teach me thy judgments.
109 My soul is alway in my hand; * yet do I not forget thy law.
110 The ungodly have laid a snare for me; * but yet I swerved not from thy commandments.
111 Thy testimonies have I claimed as mine heritage for ever; * and why? they are the very joy of my heart.
112 I have applied my heart to fulfil thy statutes alway, * even unto the end.
XV. Iniquos odio habui.
I HATE them that imagine evil things; * but thy law do I love.
114 Thou art my defence and shield; * and my trust is in thy word.
115 Away from me, ye wicked; * I will keep the commandments of my God.
116 O stablish me according to thy word, that I may live; * and let me not be disappointed of my hope.
117 Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe; * yea, my delight shall be ever in thy statutes.
118 Thou hast trodden down all them that depart from thy statutes; * for they imagine but deceit.
119 Thou puttest away all the ungodly of the earth like dross; * therefore I love thy testimonies.
120 My flesh trembleth for fear of thee; * and I am afraid of thy judgments.
The only things we have to do
are pay taxes and die. But if you like, you can read some ecclesial Q & A via the Orthodox Christian Fellowship of MIT.
are pay taxes and die. But if you like, you can read some ecclesial Q & A via the Orthodox Christian Fellowship of MIT.
Sunday, January 19, 2003
Anne Lamott
In Bird by Bird, is she :
a) giving us valuable advice about writing, esp. the writing of fiction?
b) making stale, dated jokes about Republican figures of bygone decades (e.g., Tricia Nixon, Georgette Mosbacher)?
c) annoying the crunch out of us with the relentless attempts at coolness & cuteness?
d) causing us to put down the book faster than a hot potato?
e) providing us with yet another tome we can lug over to Harvard Book Store to sell?
f) all the above?
g) all of the above except "a"?
I'll read the KFKD chapter. Then I'll probably give it to the goodly folk at HBS.
In Bird by Bird, is she :
a) giving us valuable advice about writing, esp. the writing of fiction?
b) making stale, dated jokes about Republican figures of bygone decades (e.g., Tricia Nixon, Georgette Mosbacher)?
c) annoying the crunch out of us with the relentless attempts at coolness & cuteness?
d) causing us to put down the book faster than a hot potato?
e) providing us with yet another tome we can lug over to Harvard Book Store to sell?
f) all the above?
g) all of the above except "a"?
I'll read the KFKD chapter. Then I'll probably give it to the goodly folk at HBS.
Three days in review
Friday : Confession. And spent the evening dry as a desert. No dram or drop of grape or other spirit. It assisted sleep! More than seven hours, I think. Might I preposthumously nominate my confessor as a doctor of the church? As cautious, as charitable, as sharp a "spiritual surgeon" as one is likely to find anywhere in the Ecclesia. Of a creative mind, patient with the penitent, and unafraid to "direct."
Saturday : Rage, wrath, depression, and every demon in the pandaemonium. Advice to all Christian webloggers : Never go online "first thing in the morning"; a minimum of five minutes of preferably vocal oratio, perhaps closer to twenty if time permits. Oratio and/or lectio. To jump right into the news of the world after a pleasant night's sleep can disconcert. At least, just sit quietly and sip a cup of coffee until the brain wakes up enough to pray. Add to that this personal peculiarity : Saturdays always put me in a bad mood. Like Mudville after Casey's third strike. And Saturday was not desert-dry. Nonetheless, a sleep last night close to eight hours!
Sunday : Unsplendid to this point. Call it tolerably dreary. Don't have much more to say than that.
Friday : Confession. And spent the evening dry as a desert. No dram or drop of grape or other spirit. It assisted sleep! More than seven hours, I think. Might I preposthumously nominate my confessor as a doctor of the church? As cautious, as charitable, as sharp a "spiritual surgeon" as one is likely to find anywhere in the Ecclesia. Of a creative mind, patient with the penitent, and unafraid to "direct."
Saturday : Rage, wrath, depression, and every demon in the pandaemonium. Advice to all Christian webloggers : Never go online "first thing in the morning"; a minimum of five minutes of preferably vocal oratio, perhaps closer to twenty if time permits. Oratio and/or lectio. To jump right into the news of the world after a pleasant night's sleep can disconcert. At least, just sit quietly and sip a cup of coffee until the brain wakes up enough to pray. Add to that this personal peculiarity : Saturdays always put me in a bad mood. Like Mudville after Casey's third strike. And Saturday was not desert-dry. Nonetheless, a sleep last night close to eight hours!
Sunday : Unsplendid to this point. Call it tolerably dreary. Don't have much more to say than that.
The Lady in the Pew
with some sharp remarks and keen thoughts about Catholic politicians, the recent reminder from the Holy See, and looking for Our Lord's tabernacle in all the wrong places. Oh, yes, and the legacy of President Kennedy.
with some sharp remarks and keen thoughts about Catholic politicians, the recent reminder from the Holy See, and looking for Our Lord's tabernacle in all the wrong places. Oh, yes, and the legacy of President Kennedy.
Psalm 30. Exaltabo te, Domine.
I WILL magnify thee, O LORD; for thou hast set me up, * and not made my foes to triumph over me.
2 O LORD my God, I cried unto thee; * and thou hast healed me.
3 Thou, LORD, hast brought my soul out of hell: * thou hast kept my life, that I should not go down into the pit.
4 Sing praises unto the LORD, O ye saints of his; * and give thanks unto him, for a remembrance of his holiness.
5 For his wrath endureth but the twinkling of an eye, and in his pleasure is life; * heaviness may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
6 And in my prosperity I said, I shall never be removed: * thou, LORD, of thy goodness, hast made my hill so strong.
7 Thou didst turn thy face from me, * and I was troubled.
8 Then cried I unto thee, O LORD; * and gat me to my LORD right humbly.
9 What profit is there in my blood, * when I go down into the pit?
10 Shall the dust give thanks unto thee? * or shall it declare thy truth?
11 Hear, O LORD, and have mercy upon me; * LORD, be thou my helper.
12 Thou hast turned my heaviness into joy; * thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness:
13 Therefore shall every good man sing of thy praise without ceasing. * O my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever.
I WILL magnify thee, O LORD; for thou hast set me up, * and not made my foes to triumph over me.
2 O LORD my God, I cried unto thee; * and thou hast healed me.
3 Thou, LORD, hast brought my soul out of hell: * thou hast kept my life, that I should not go down into the pit.
4 Sing praises unto the LORD, O ye saints of his; * and give thanks unto him, for a remembrance of his holiness.
5 For his wrath endureth but the twinkling of an eye, and in his pleasure is life; * heaviness may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
6 And in my prosperity I said, I shall never be removed: * thou, LORD, of thy goodness, hast made my hill so strong.
7 Thou didst turn thy face from me, * and I was troubled.
8 Then cried I unto thee, O LORD; * and gat me to my LORD right humbly.
9 What profit is there in my blood, * when I go down into the pit?
10 Shall the dust give thanks unto thee? * or shall it declare thy truth?
11 Hear, O LORD, and have mercy upon me; * LORD, be thou my helper.
12 Thou hast turned my heaviness into joy; * thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness:
13 Therefore shall every good man sing of thy praise without ceasing. * O my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever.
Saturday, January 18, 2003
Poem (1999)
Theology
dances with a curious
parasol
beside the boulevard's vitrines
Pietistic mannequins
quote simmering passages
of summer sonneteers
A denim-coated psalmist
launches caustic vocables
at an army
of traipsing infidels
Professor Barstool
seeks a kindred soul
at the bottom of Saturday's
bottle
Sycophantic glaziers
inflict a ruthlessness of
Logic
upon the bodies of
Anglican debutantes
Innocence dresses in
vestments of indigo
and plays the harlot
for first-time candidates
Civilization dissipates
in a furious flurry
of newspapers
Degradable coruscations
tossed hither and yon
by petulant winds
of naughty propaganda
Active assassins of peace
renounce contemplation
for popularity
And mercy dies of thirst
behind the barricades
of Self
1999
Bishop Seraphim Sigrist
from Theology of Wonder
It is hard to be a Christian if one has never seen the Christian life lived by another. It is hard to believe in the importance of prayer if one has never known a man of prayer. And while one may accept, and know in one's heart the truth of the poignant force of Leon Bloy's profound word, "The only sadness is not to be a saint," how can one approach sanctity without some living model or exemplar?
:: :: :: :: ::
Sigrist, op. cit. (Crestwood, NY : Saint Vladimir's Seminary Press, 2001), pp. 30 & 31.
from Theology of Wonder
It is hard to be a Christian if one has never seen the Christian life lived by another. It is hard to believe in the importance of prayer if one has never known a man of prayer. And while one may accept, and know in one's heart the truth of the poignant force of Leon Bloy's profound word, "The only sadness is not to be a saint," how can one approach sanctity without some living model or exemplar?
:: :: :: :: ::
Sigrist, op. cit. (Crestwood, NY : Saint Vladimir's Seminary Press, 2001), pp. 30 & 31.
Frederica Mathewes-Green
from The Illumined Heart : The Ancient Christian Path of Transformation
Considering such a discipline [fasting and other ascetical practices] can seem overwhelming to Western Christians today. As with other spiritual disciplines, it is important to do what one can, and not undertake too much in a burst of hubris. Physical exercise is a marvelous thing; it can strengthen and reshape the body in amazing ways, and grant extraordinary health. We sometimes see heroic athletes in their sixties and seventies completing marathons. I'm not going to be one of them. I am middle-aged, plump, and seriously uncoordinated. There are limits to the amount of exercise I can do, and if I tried to exceed them I would reap both injury and despair.
Likewise with physical disciplines like fasting. They are meant to strengthen the Christian, not break him.
:: :: :: :: ::
Mathewes-Green, op. cit. (Brewster, Massachusetts : Paraclete Press, 2001), pp. 54-5.
from The Illumined Heart : The Ancient Christian Path of Transformation
Considering such a discipline [fasting and other ascetical practices] can seem overwhelming to Western Christians today. As with other spiritual disciplines, it is important to do what one can, and not undertake too much in a burst of hubris. Physical exercise is a marvelous thing; it can strengthen and reshape the body in amazing ways, and grant extraordinary health. We sometimes see heroic athletes in their sixties and seventies completing marathons. I'm not going to be one of them. I am middle-aged, plump, and seriously uncoordinated. There are limits to the amount of exercise I can do, and if I tried to exceed them I would reap both injury and despair.
Likewise with physical disciplines like fasting. They are meant to strengthen the Christian, not break him.
:: :: :: :: ::
Mathewes-Green, op. cit. (Brewster, Massachusetts : Paraclete Press, 2001), pp. 54-5.
Thomas Merton
from Cables to the Ace, yet again
78
(The Harmonies of Excess)
The hidden lovers in the soil
Become green plants and gardens tomorrow
When they are ordered to re-appear
In the wet sun's poem
Then they force the delighted
Power of buds to laugh louder
They scatter all the cries of light
Like shadow rain and make their bed
Over and over in the hollow flower
The violet bonfire
They spin the senses of the mute morning
In an abandoned river
Love's wreckage is then left to lie
All around the breathless shores
Of my voice
Which on the coasts of larking meadows
Invented all these children and their mischievous noises
So those lovers teach April stars
To riot rebel and follow faithless courses
And it doesn't matter
The seed is not afraid
Of winter or the terrible sweetness
Of the spring's convivial nightmare
Or the hot surprise and dizzy spark
Of their electric promise
For the lovers in the sleeping nerve
Are the hope and the address
Where I send you this burning garden
My talkative morning-glory
My climbing germ of poems
:: :: :: :: ::
Thomas Merton, The Collected Poems of Thomas Merton (NY : New Directions Paperbook 504, 1980), pp. 447-8.
from Cables to the Ace, yet again
78
(The Harmonies of Excess)
The hidden lovers in the soil
Become green plants and gardens tomorrow
When they are ordered to re-appear
In the wet sun's poem
Then they force the delighted
Power of buds to laugh louder
They scatter all the cries of light
Like shadow rain and make their bed
Over and over in the hollow flower
The violet bonfire
They spin the senses of the mute morning
In an abandoned river
Love's wreckage is then left to lie
All around the breathless shores
Of my voice
Which on the coasts of larking meadows
Invented all these children and their mischievous noises
So those lovers teach April stars
To riot rebel and follow faithless courses
And it doesn't matter
The seed is not afraid
Of winter or the terrible sweetness
Of the spring's convivial nightmare
Or the hot surprise and dizzy spark
Of their electric promise
For the lovers in the sleeping nerve
Are the hope and the address
Where I send you this burning garden
My talkative morning-glory
My climbing germ of poems
:: :: :: :: ::
Thomas Merton, The Collected Poems of Thomas Merton (NY : New Directions Paperbook 504, 1980), pp. 447-8.
It's just so ...
PURPLE !!
And purple is way cool. So, for that reason, among others, this weblog has been added to Places Oft.
PURPLE !!
And purple is way cool. So, for that reason, among others, this weblog has been added to Places Oft.
A new beatitude
Blessed are the subtle, for they shall win elections.
But woe to the Holy See, for it is not subtle. And it does not appreciate the politician's need to be responsive to all "populations" in his/her constituency. Especially those populations which favor, for lack of a better word, depopulation.
Blessed are the subtle, for they shall win elections.
But woe to the Holy See, for it is not subtle. And it does not appreciate the politician's need to be responsive to all "populations" in his/her constituency. Especially those populations which favor, for lack of a better word, depopulation.
by sir estlin
now does our world descend
the path to nothingness
(cruel now cancels kind;
friends turn to enemies)
therefore lament,my dream
and don a doer's doom
create is now contrive;
imagine,merely know
(freedom:what makes a slave)
therefore,my life,lie down
and more by most endure
all that you never were
hide,poor dishonoured mind
who thought yourself so wise;
and much could understand
concerning no and yes:
if they've become the same
it's time you unbecame
where climbing was and bright
is darkness and to fall
(now wrong's the only right
since brave are cowards all)
therefore despair,my heart
and die into the dirt
but from this endless end
of briefer each our bliss--
where seeing eyes go blind
(where lips forget to kiss)
where everything's nothing
--arise,my soul;and sing
now does our world descend
the path to nothingness
(cruel now cancels kind;
friends turn to enemies)
therefore lament,my dream
and don a doer's doom
create is now contrive;
imagine,merely know
(freedom:what makes a slave)
therefore,my life,lie down
and more by most endure
all that you never were
hide,poor dishonoured mind
who thought yourself so wise;
and much could understand
concerning no and yes:
if they've become the same
it's time you unbecame
where climbing was and bright
is darkness and to fall
(now wrong's the only right
since brave are cowards all)
therefore despair,my heart
and die into the dirt
but from this endless end
of briefer each our bliss--
where seeing eyes go blind
(where lips forget to kiss)
where everything's nothing
--arise,my soul;and sing
Psalm 77. Voce mea ad Dominum.
I WILL cry unto God with my voice; * even unto God will I cry with my voice, and he shall hearken unto me.
2 In the time of my trouble I sought the Lord: * I stretched forth my hands unto him, and ceased not in the night season; my soul refused comfort.
3 When I am in heaviness, I will think upon God; * when my heart is vexed, I will complain.
4 Thou holdest mine eyes waking: * I am so feeble that I cannot speak.
5 I have considered the days of old, * and the years that are past.
6 I call to remembrance my song, * and in the night I commune with mine own heart, and search out my spirit.
7 Will the Lord absent himself for ever? * and will he be no more intreated?
8 Is his mercy clean gone for ever? * and is his promise come utterly to an end for evermore?
9 Hath God forgotten to be gracious? * and will he shut up his loving-kindness in displeasure?
10 And I said, It is mine own infirmity; * but I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most Highest.
11 I will remember the works of the LORD, * and call to mind thy wonders of old time.
12 I will think also of all thy works, * and my talking shall be of thy doings.
13 Thy way, O God, is holy: * who is so great a God as our God?
14 Thou art the God that doest wonders, * and hast declared thy power among the peoples.
15 Thou hast mightily delivered thy people, * even the sons of Jacob and Joseph.
16 The waters saw thee, O God, the waters saw thee, and were afraid; * the depths also were troubled.
17 The clouds poured out water, the air thundered, * and thine arrows went abroad.
18 The voice of thy thunder was heard round about: * the lightnings shone upon the ground; the earth was moved, and shook withal.
19 Thy way is in the sea, and thy paths in the great waters, * and thy footsteps are not known.
20 Thou leddest thy people like sheep, * by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
I WILL cry unto God with my voice; * even unto God will I cry with my voice, and he shall hearken unto me.
2 In the time of my trouble I sought the Lord: * I stretched forth my hands unto him, and ceased not in the night season; my soul refused comfort.
3 When I am in heaviness, I will think upon God; * when my heart is vexed, I will complain.
4 Thou holdest mine eyes waking: * I am so feeble that I cannot speak.
5 I have considered the days of old, * and the years that are past.
6 I call to remembrance my song, * and in the night I commune with mine own heart, and search out my spirit.
7 Will the Lord absent himself for ever? * and will he be no more intreated?
8 Is his mercy clean gone for ever? * and is his promise come utterly to an end for evermore?
9 Hath God forgotten to be gracious? * and will he shut up his loving-kindness in displeasure?
10 And I said, It is mine own infirmity; * but I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most Highest.
11 I will remember the works of the LORD, * and call to mind thy wonders of old time.
12 I will think also of all thy works, * and my talking shall be of thy doings.
13 Thy way, O God, is holy: * who is so great a God as our God?
14 Thou art the God that doest wonders, * and hast declared thy power among the peoples.
15 Thou hast mightily delivered thy people, * even the sons of Jacob and Joseph.
16 The waters saw thee, O God, the waters saw thee, and were afraid; * the depths also were troubled.
17 The clouds poured out water, the air thundered, * and thine arrows went abroad.
18 The voice of thy thunder was heard round about: * the lightnings shone upon the ground; the earth was moved, and shook withal.
19 Thy way is in the sea, and thy paths in the great waters, * and thy footsteps are not known.
20 Thou leddest thy people like sheep, * by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
Although most of us feel fine
it could be the end of the world as we know it. Unless we wake up. Am inclined to agree. Joe Fitzgerald in this morning's Herald.
it could be the end of the world as we know it. Unless we wake up. Am inclined to agree. Joe Fitzgerald in this morning's Herald.
Friday, January 17, 2003
Thomas Merton
from Cables to the Ace
75
I seek you in the hospital where you work. Will you be a patch of white moving rapidly across the end of the next hall? I begin again in every shadow, surrounded by the sound of scandal and the buzzer calling all doctors to the presence of alarm.
76
After that we'll meet in some Kingdom they forgot and there the found will play the songs of the sent. Surely a big bird with all the shades of light will beat against our windows. We will then gladly consent to the kindness of rays and recover the warm knowledge of each other we once had under those young trees in another May. (It is a big bird flies right out of the center of the sun.)
from Cables to the Ace
75
I seek you in the hospital where you work. Will you be a patch of white moving rapidly across the end of the next hall? I begin again in every shadow, surrounded by the sound of scandal and the buzzer calling all doctors to the presence of alarm.
76
After that we'll meet in some Kingdom they forgot and there the found will play the songs of the sent. Surely a big bird with all the shades of light will beat against our windows. We will then gladly consent to the kindness of rays and recover the warm knowledge of each other we once had under those young trees in another May. (It is a big bird flies right out of the center of the sun.)
Andrew Sullivan vs Sheryl Crow
Wow. Like, wow. Like, war. It's bad. Bad karma. But, ahem, what if you have no choice in the matter? What if an enemy decides, out of hatred or fanaticism or ideology, simply to attack you?
Here's the whole thing.
Wow. Like, wow. Like, war. It's bad. Bad karma. But, ahem, what if you have no choice in the matter? What if an enemy decides, out of hatred or fanaticism or ideology, simply to attack you?
Here's the whole thing.
Slang in a sling?
Mrs vonHuben at Oblique House blogs on the Dangers of Idiomatic English.
I was going to link to this post, simply because she used the expression tant pis (and really, what other reason does one need?), but the Idiomatic Danger Post is, shall we say, delightfuller.
Of course, tant pis could be used as a launching-pad for a bit o' blogging on the dangers of anglicizing French expressions!
Mrs vonHuben at Oblique House blogs on the Dangers of Idiomatic English.
I was going to link to this post, simply because she used the expression tant pis (and really, what other reason does one need?), but the Idiomatic Danger Post is, shall we say, delightfuller.
Of course, tant pis could be used as a launching-pad for a bit o' blogging on the dangers of anglicizing French expressions!
Ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn
or, I didn't realize that you wrote poetry
Spent part of the wee hours writing dithyrambs in the manner of the surrealistic Cables to the Ace, a book of experimental prose and poems by Thomas Merton. About which, more later.
Discovered some passages therein, of frankly autobiographical import, which had previously escaped my notice. Passages which I had missed on every reading since the first, nearly 12 years ago!
or, I didn't realize that you wrote poetry
Spent part of the wee hours writing dithyrambs in the manner of the surrealistic Cables to the Ace, a book of experimental prose and poems by Thomas Merton. About which, more later.
Discovered some passages therein, of frankly autobiographical import, which had previously escaped my notice. Passages which I had missed on every reading since the first, nearly 12 years ago!
Bettnet.com
fights the good fight, or fisks the good fisk, against the National Catholic Reporter, which recently ran an article telling pro-life activists to throw in the towel.
fights the good fight, or fisks the good fisk, against the National Catholic Reporter, which recently ran an article telling pro-life activists to throw in the towel.
She votes in Pennsylvania
Her senators are Arlen Specter (vigorously pro-choice) and Rick Santorum (every bit as vigorously pro-life). Both, please note, are Republicans.
She lives in Massachusetts, where the Republican governor is pro-choice and the Democratic speaker of the house is pro-life.
What, pray tell, is this "rigid right-wing orthodoxy" of which she speaks? And does she think that the morbid left-wing orthodoxy of choice, choice über alles is preferable to the moderately conservative main stream of the party she has just abandoned?
Prediction : When the campaign's over, and someone other than John Forbes Kerry is (still) President of the United States, she'll rejoin the Grand Old Party. Perhaps quietly.
Her senators are Arlen Specter (vigorously pro-choice) and Rick Santorum (every bit as vigorously pro-life). Both, please note, are Republicans.
She lives in Massachusetts, where the Republican governor is pro-choice and the Democratic speaker of the house is pro-life.
What, pray tell, is this "rigid right-wing orthodoxy" of which she speaks? And does she think that the morbid left-wing orthodoxy of choice, choice über alles is preferable to the moderately conservative main stream of the party she has just abandoned?
Prediction : When the campaign's over, and someone other than John Forbes Kerry is (still) President of the United States, she'll rejoin the Grand Old Party. Perhaps quietly.
A poem!
The blogger at Sainteros gives us The Poem of the Morning (working title), a wonderfully clear meditation, of remarkable fluency. Remarkable because the poet disclaims proficiency in metrical verse.
Trusting that you will find his scansion unimpeachable and his poem very good, indeed!
The blogger at Sainteros gives us The Poem of the Morning (working title), a wonderfully clear meditation, of remarkable fluency. Remarkable because the poet disclaims proficiency in metrical verse.
Trusting that you will find his scansion unimpeachable and his poem very good, indeed!
A note on the pronunciation
of the title of a James Joyce work
When I first saw the title of a slender volume of verse by the titanic James Joyce, Pomes Penyeach, I couldn't figure out what language it was, and pronounced it "poe mess pen yake."
Turns out (as might be obvious to some of you; but as I discovered only after three years of owning The Portable James Joyce, whereupon I derided myself with an "oh, duh") that it's misspelled English : "poems [a] penny each."
of the title of a James Joyce work
When I first saw the title of a slender volume of verse by the titanic James Joyce, Pomes Penyeach, I couldn't figure out what language it was, and pronounced it "poe mess pen yake."
Turns out (as might be obvious to some of you; but as I discovered only after three years of owning The Portable James Joyce, whereupon I derided myself with an "oh, duh") that it's misspelled English : "poems [a] penny each."
Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Under the "Catholic sites" heading of Places Oft Visited, chesterton-library.net, a link to much of G. K. Chesterton's writing, has been added. Many delightful essays and diverting poems.
I'm not the hugest Chestertonian, having read only his St Francis biography and a few poems -- perhaps liking best "The Sword of Surprise" -- but do click on whatever title catches your eye! For me, this page is enabling the discovery of much that is new; but for some of you, this might be the strengthening of a beautiful friendship!
Memorandum to self : Do read Orthodoxy someday. (Yikes! But not online. The website, alas, did not divide the text into chapters.)
Do have a look at the Essays and Poems, though.
Under the "Catholic sites" heading of Places Oft Visited, chesterton-library.net, a link to much of G. K. Chesterton's writing, has been added. Many delightful essays and diverting poems.
I'm not the hugest Chestertonian, having read only his St Francis biography and a few poems -- perhaps liking best "The Sword of Surprise" -- but do click on whatever title catches your eye! For me, this page is enabling the discovery of much that is new; but for some of you, this might be the strengthening of a beautiful friendship!
Memorandum to self : Do read Orthodoxy someday. (Yikes! But not online. The website, alas, did not divide the text into chapters.)
Do have a look at the Essays and Poems, though.
Thursday, January 16, 2003
Psalm 73. Quam bonus Israel!
TRULY God is loving unto Israel: * even unto such as are of a clean heart.
2 Nevertheless, my feet were almost gone, * my treadings had well-nigh slipt.
3 And why? I was grieved at the wicked: * I do also see the ungodly in such prosperity.
4 For they are in no peril of death; * but are lusty and strong.
5 They come in no misfortune like other folk; * neither are they plagued like other men.
6 And this is the cause that they are so holden with pride, * and cruelty covereth them as a garment.
7 Their eyes swell with fatness, * and they do even what they lust.
8 They corrupt other, and speak of wicked blasphemy; * their talking is against the Most High.
9 For they stretch forth their mouth unto the heaven, * and their tongue goeth through the world.
10 Therefore fall the people unto them, * and thereout suck they no small advantage.
11 Tush, say they, how should God perceive it? * is there knowledge in the Most High?
12 Lo, these are the ungodly, * these prosper in the world, and these have riches in possession:
13 And I said, Then have I cleansed my heart in vain, * and washed my hands in innocency.
14 All the day long have I been punished, * and chastened every morning.
15 Yea, and I had almost said even as they; * but lo, then I should have condemned the generation of thy children.
16 Then thought I to understand this; * but it was too hard for me,
17 Until I went into the sanctuary of God: * then understood I the end of these men;
18 Namely, how thou dost set them in slippery places, * and castest them down, and destroyest them.
19 O how suddenly do they consume, * perish, and come to a fearful end!
20 Yea, even like as a dream when one awaketh; * so shalt thou make their image to vanish out of the city.
21 Thus my heart was grieved, * and it went even through my reins.
22 So foolish was I, and ignorant, * even as it were a beast before thee.
23 Nevertheless, I am alway by thee; * for thou hast holden me by my right hand.
24 Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, * and after that receive me with glory.
25 Whom have I in heaven but thee? * and there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison of thee.
26 My flesh and my heart faileth; * but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.
27 For lo, they that forsake thee shall perish; * thou hast destroyed all them that are unfaithful unto thee.
28 But it is good for me to hold me fast by God, to put my trust in the Lord GOD, * and to speak of all thy works in the gates of the daughter of Sion.
TRULY God is loving unto Israel: * even unto such as are of a clean heart.
2 Nevertheless, my feet were almost gone, * my treadings had well-nigh slipt.
3 And why? I was grieved at the wicked: * I do also see the ungodly in such prosperity.
4 For they are in no peril of death; * but are lusty and strong.
5 They come in no misfortune like other folk; * neither are they plagued like other men.
6 And this is the cause that they are so holden with pride, * and cruelty covereth them as a garment.
7 Their eyes swell with fatness, * and they do even what they lust.
8 They corrupt other, and speak of wicked blasphemy; * their talking is against the Most High.
9 For they stretch forth their mouth unto the heaven, * and their tongue goeth through the world.
10 Therefore fall the people unto them, * and thereout suck they no small advantage.
11 Tush, say they, how should God perceive it? * is there knowledge in the Most High?
12 Lo, these are the ungodly, * these prosper in the world, and these have riches in possession:
13 And I said, Then have I cleansed my heart in vain, * and washed my hands in innocency.
14 All the day long have I been punished, * and chastened every morning.
15 Yea, and I had almost said even as they; * but lo, then I should have condemned the generation of thy children.
16 Then thought I to understand this; * but it was too hard for me,
17 Until I went into the sanctuary of God: * then understood I the end of these men;
18 Namely, how thou dost set them in slippery places, * and castest them down, and destroyest them.
19 O how suddenly do they consume, * perish, and come to a fearful end!
20 Yea, even like as a dream when one awaketh; * so shalt thou make their image to vanish out of the city.
21 Thus my heart was grieved, * and it went even through my reins.
22 So foolish was I, and ignorant, * even as it were a beast before thee.
23 Nevertheless, I am alway by thee; * for thou hast holden me by my right hand.
24 Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, * and after that receive me with glory.
25 Whom have I in heaven but thee? * and there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison of thee.
26 My flesh and my heart faileth; * but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.
27 For lo, they that forsake thee shall perish; * thou hast destroyed all them that are unfaithful unto thee.
28 But it is good for me to hold me fast by God, to put my trust in the Lord GOD, * and to speak of all thy works in the gates of the daughter of Sion.
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