"Sonnet XVII" by Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Death & Love
"Death & Love" by Rita A. Simmonds
Is it possible to love to the point of death,
Willingly, I say willingly?
No healthy balance.
No give and take.
But death --
One's final breath?
I do not talk of suicide,
an act of hate
that sees nothing
and cannot wait.
Nor Romeo
who couldn't see
that death was not love's enemy.
I talk of death
love's secret lover,
who reveals the essence of the other.
A grain of wheat,
small, separated, fallen, alone,
that hits the ground without a sound
can remain consoled
knowing what it carries,
why it fell,
and when it's buried
what it still carries --
(and years from now
the field's glory
that sways the story
will want to know and tell).
But if we see no resurrection,
no golden field above the ground,
how do we die now?
And how can we say we will it so
when death is no true lover's goal?
Yet have we seen a heart let go
if love is what it holds?
From Magnificat's 2011 Lenten companion book
Happy Ash Wednesday, friends.
Is it possible to love to the point of death,
Willingly, I say willingly?
No healthy balance.
No give and take.
But death --
One's final breath?
I do not talk of suicide,
an act of hate
that sees nothing
and cannot wait.
Nor Romeo
who couldn't see
that death was not love's enemy.
I talk of death
love's secret lover,
who reveals the essence of the other.
A grain of wheat,
small, separated, fallen, alone,
that hits the ground without a sound
can remain consoled
knowing what it carries,
why it fell,
and when it's buried
what it still carries --
(and years from now
the field's glory
that sways the story
will want to know and tell).
But if we see no resurrection,
no golden field above the ground,
how do we die now?
And how can we say we will it so
when death is no true lover's goal?
Yet have we seen a heart let go
if love is what it holds?
From Magnificat's 2011 Lenten companion book
Happy Ash Wednesday, friends.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
I Am That I Am
TBM Topic 26: Instruct the Ignorant
"I Am That I Am" by Julie Robison
Trista at Not a Minx, Moron, or a Parasite
Elizabeth at Startling the Day
We three are from the oft-mentioned, widely-speculated upon demographic of young, twenty-something Catholic women. We're here to dispel the myths and misconceptions- please join us for the discussion on Facebook and Twitter!
During Lent, we will be discussing the Spiritual Works of Mercy every week.
Ignorant is not a word I particularly care for, yet most people are culpable. It comes from the Latin words in (not) and gnarus (knowing).
New Advent defines ignorance as "lack of knowledge about a thing in a being capable of knowing. Fundamentally speaking and with regard to a given object ignorance is the outcome of the limitations of our intellect or of the obscurity of the matter itself."
Today, we Catholics (and fellow orthodox Christian and Jewish brothers and sisters) face bigotry based on ignorance of our faith, religion and history. The greater good would be served, society is led to believe, if God was kept in the pews and within the walls of our homes. God is good as long as God is contained.
But our God is an awesome God - awesome in the "awe-inspiring" way. God is not our bro. God is not our homeboy. God is the Almighty one - the Alpha (first) and the Omega (last) - the one who is, the one who was, the one who will be (Revelation 1:8).
And he will not be contained. We cannot limit his power, his mercy, his goodness or his Kingdom Come. Our reasons are not his reasons, and this is the first step to instructing ignorance: discernment of our own vocation.
Flannery O'Connor wrote that "Ignorance is excusable when it is borne like a cross, but when it is wielded like an ax, and with moral indignation, then it becomes something else indeed."
For many, the best reason to be a Christian is the joy and fellowship of other Christians. For others, Christians are the best reason not to be a Christian - their small-mindedness, their inability to compromise, their, well, ignorance.
And so, who has the high ground here? The miserable Christians who pray, "I believe - help my disbelief!" Or the one who discuss God's take on a few things, would certainly invite him over for a drink, and then be done with the old chap. He's not really our kind of man, if you know what we mean.
We certainly do. Which is ignorance on their part. I truly this many people intentionally stay ignorant of God - learn things about him, sure, and learn about things that surround him. But not him. After all, it is hard to look at God on the cross and really know that he knows our hearts. He can touch and change our lives, if we only get to know him. Our God is the God of all; our path towards God will never be repeated for another.
While discussing a struggle with my sister last night, she told me I had to believe the consequences would be bad if I continued. She did not mean in the short term, or even in human terms: she meant, if I really wanted a change of heart, I'd have to care more about offending God. The kind of caring that shows considerations for another feelings. In short, I need to know God on a much more personal level, the kind that changes my actions and words in the long-term as well as the short.
We Catholics have a prayer for that: the Act of Contrition. We say it after the sacrament of Reconciliation. It goes, O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven, and the pains of hell; but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen.
This prayer is not said or meant lightly. Humanity is like a heat-seeking missile: it seeks Truth. It is not pretentious to claim to know Truth, as the Catholic Church does, for example. 2,000 years of bad press and still the truths found in the dogmas and sacraments, particularly the Eucharist, resonate across every color and creed.
No one has it easy. No one knows (or can know) "everything." Ignorance infects the best and most brilliant among us. It is the humility to ask God, to knock on his door, to seek his guidance, that really begins the journey. Some times, people need other people to help them get there, be it in books, blog posts, or conversations.
Perhaps more importantly though, a person needs to be self-aware where they are ignorant. One can always instruct where they know and understand, but they must also be willing to learn. That way, knowledge leads to wisdom, and not a higher level of ignorance.
"I Am That I Am" by Julie Robison
Trista at Not a Minx, Moron, or a Parasite
Elizabeth at Startling the Day
We three are from the oft-mentioned, widely-speculated upon demographic of young, twenty-something Catholic women. We're here to dispel the myths and misconceptions- please join us for the discussion on Facebook and Twitter!
During Lent, we will be discussing the Spiritual Works of Mercy every week.
Ignorant is not a word I particularly care for, yet most people are culpable. It comes from the Latin words in (not) and gnarus (knowing).
New Advent defines ignorance as "lack of knowledge about a thing in a being capable of knowing. Fundamentally speaking and with regard to a given object ignorance is the outcome of the limitations of our intellect or of the obscurity of the matter itself."
Today, we Catholics (and fellow orthodox Christian and Jewish brothers and sisters) face bigotry based on ignorance of our faith, religion and history. The greater good would be served, society is led to believe, if God was kept in the pews and within the walls of our homes. God is good as long as God is contained.
But our God is an awesome God - awesome in the "awe-inspiring" way. God is not our bro. God is not our homeboy. God is the Almighty one - the Alpha (first) and the Omega (last) - the one who is, the one who was, the one who will be (Revelation 1:8).
And he will not be contained. We cannot limit his power, his mercy, his goodness or his Kingdom Come. Our reasons are not his reasons, and this is the first step to instructing ignorance: discernment of our own vocation.
Flannery O'Connor wrote that "Ignorance is excusable when it is borne like a cross, but when it is wielded like an ax, and with moral indignation, then it becomes something else indeed."
For many, the best reason to be a Christian is the joy and fellowship of other Christians. For others, Christians are the best reason not to be a Christian - their small-mindedness, their inability to compromise, their, well, ignorance.
And so, who has the high ground here? The miserable Christians who pray, "I believe - help my disbelief!" Or the one who discuss God's take on a few things, would certainly invite him over for a drink, and then be done with the old chap. He's not really our kind of man, if you know what we mean.
We certainly do. Which is ignorance on their part. I truly this many people intentionally stay ignorant of God - learn things about him, sure, and learn about things that surround him. But not him. After all, it is hard to look at God on the cross and really know that he knows our hearts. He can touch and change our lives, if we only get to know him. Our God is the God of all; our path towards God will never be repeated for another.
While discussing a struggle with my sister last night, she told me I had to believe the consequences would be bad if I continued. She did not mean in the short term, or even in human terms: she meant, if I really wanted a change of heart, I'd have to care more about offending God. The kind of caring that shows considerations for another feelings. In short, I need to know God on a much more personal level, the kind that changes my actions and words in the long-term as well as the short.
We Catholics have a prayer for that: the Act of Contrition. We say it after the sacrament of Reconciliation. It goes, O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven, and the pains of hell; but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen.This prayer is not said or meant lightly. Humanity is like a heat-seeking missile: it seeks Truth. It is not pretentious to claim to know Truth, as the Catholic Church does, for example. 2,000 years of bad press and still the truths found in the dogmas and sacraments, particularly the Eucharist, resonate across every color and creed.
No one has it easy. No one knows (or can know) "everything." Ignorance infects the best and most brilliant among us. It is the humility to ask God, to knock on his door, to seek his guidance, that really begins the journey. Some times, people need other people to help them get there, be it in books, blog posts, or conversations.
Perhaps more importantly though, a person needs to be self-aware where they are ignorant. One can always instruct where they know and understand, but they must also be willing to learn. That way, knowledge leads to wisdom, and not a higher level of ignorance.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Theology on Tap
In college, the Dogwood Society (my major's academic honorary) was a little platoon of love and laughs. The handful of us would send encouraging notes during our regular all-night writing sessions, pass around humorous takes on American history and politics, and would periodically get together for "Founding Fridays" to share in fellowship over a few brews.Though partial to wheat beers and amber ales, it is well known that I love Guinness beer. Therefore, when a dear fellow Dogwoodian suggested I read The Search for God and Guinness: A Biography of the Beer that Changed the World by Stephen Mansfield, I knew my friend had excellent taste in both beverages and books.
This book is delightful. If you, dear reader, have any interest in beer, religion, family businesses, history, marketing, science, politics, or culture, you may enjoy this good read. Written with precision, The Search for God and Guinness reads like a methodical conversation or college lecture. Mansfield immersed himself into the wide topic of "Guinness" while remaining an excellent third-party observer. It seems he, as his reader, had a lot to learn about the Guinness family and their barley business.
Continue reading at The Imaginative Conservative >>>>>>>
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