Sunday, August 31, 2014
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
~Romans 12: 9-21
Friday, August 29, 2014
but journey long before me lies.
Farewell, friends! I hear the call.
The ship's beside the stony wall.
Foam is white and waves are grey;
beyond the sunset leads my way.
Foam is salt, the wind is free;
I hear the rising of the Sea.
Farewell, friends! The sails are set,
the wind is east, the moorings fret.
Shadows long before me lie,
beneath the ever-bending sky,
but islands lie behind the Sun
that I shall raise ere all is done;
lands there are to west of West,
where night is quiet and sleep is rest.
Guided by the Lonely Star,
beyond the utmost harbour-bar,
I'll find the heavens fair and free,
and beaches of the Starlit Sea.
Ship, my ship! I seek the West,
and fields and mountains ever blest.
Farewell to Middle-earth at last.
I see the Star above my mast!
~J. R. R. Tolkien
Thursday, August 28, 2014
But we should be encouraged. Even the sceptic who does not believe in heaven has a heaven-shaped heart. The deck is stacked and the dice are loaded, loaded with the love of heaven. Amor meus, pondus meum, said Augustine: ‘My love is my weight.’ The gravity of his own heart pulls the sceptic in heaven’s direction, even while the antigravity of sin pulls him away.”
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
That, after all our strife,
Just as, at last, we see
The road to victory,
The tired heart breaks.
Just as the long years give
Knowledge of how to live,
Life’s end draws near;
As if, that gift being ours,
God needed our new powers
In worlds elsewhere.
There, if the soul whose wings
Were won in suffering, springs
To life anew,
Justice would have some room
For hope beyond the tomb,
And mercy, too.
And since, without this dream
No light, no faintest gleam
Answers our ‘why’;
But earth and all its race
Must pass and leave no trace
On that blind sky;
Shall reason close that door
On all we struggled for,
Seal the soul’s doom;
Make of this universe
One wild answering curse,
One lampless tomb?
Mine be the dream, the creed
That leaves for God, indeed,
For God, and man,
One open door whereby
To prove His world no lie
And crown His plan.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Monday, August 25, 2014
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Friday, August 22, 2014
~Michael O’Brien (from the novel Eclipse of the Sun - re-post)
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
|Stephen Broadbent's sculpture "Water of Life"|
Monday, August 18, 2014
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Friday, August 15, 2014
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
~Dom Lorenzo Scupoli
Monday, August 11, 2014
~St. Athanasius (from The Life of St. Antony)
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Saturday, August 9, 2014
With her fingers she turns paint
into flowers, with her body
flowers into a remembrance
of herself. She is at work
always, mending the garment
of our marriage, foraging
like a bird for something
for us to eat. If there are thorns
in my life, it is she who
will press her breast to them and sing.
Her words, when she would scold,
are too sharp. She is busy
after for hours rubbing smiles
into the wounds. I saw her,
when young, and spread the panoply
of my feathers instinctively
to engage her. She was not deceived,
but accepted me
she could build a home with
for her imagined child.
~R. S. Thomas
Friday, August 8, 2014
One child was blind. Her eyes were gouged and scarred, her head nodding in a sightless headlong plunge, her face intent on nothing save the grip of her companion’s hand, the unsuspected thickness of air, and the taste of utter exhilaration. On the face of her seeing friend were other ecstasies—large, open, racehorse eyes, the panting thoroughbred power of giving the impossible thing. The seeing girl had bestowed upon her blind friend a different form of sight, the feeling of wind on skin, of small unused muscles pumping at catastrophic speed, the awesome pitch through treacherous air that always contained within it the threat of collision, and the promise of soaring.
There is my soul, thought Rose. O, O, ay, ay, that I might trust what you are doing with me in this rushing darkness!”
~Michael O’Brien (from the novel A Cry of Stone)
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
|(Picture found here)|
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Hugo shook his head. “When you’re a kid, everything’s bigger than life. The king was a stained-glass window, of course. Some kind of chapel. The horses weren’t bucking or galloping. They were as quiet as a boneyard, just lifted their heads and watched me pass. There weren’t any stars falling. But it was like a glorious sign, like happiness that comes out of nowhere at the very moment when everything seems most dark.”
“So, did you go in and meet the king?” Esther asked.
“Of course not. I went home. I drew the scene with a stub of pencil on lined paper. Biggest mistake I ever made.”
“Why do you say that, Hugo?” Rose asked.
“Because once I started drawing I couldn’t stop. It took over my life. It made me what I am.”
“But that is a wonderful thing, Hugo!” Rose exclaimed. “You are a wonderful man!”
Hugo and Esther chuckled simultaneously.
“Thank you”, Hugo said. “I shall survive a few days longer on that gratuitous and entirely inaccurate observation.”
~Michael O’Brien (from the novel A Cry of Stone)
Monday, August 4, 2014
On that day I was inebriated with joy, yet I felt sorrow too. In the radiance of the unexpected light, I saw exposed my secret despair, my lack of hope, my adoration of beauty, my hatred of men of power, my contempt for the morally fallen, and beneath it all, my subtle and most dangerously disguised pride—which is like a field of the dead. Then did I understand that throughout my life, my sins had been the only real waste. Yet everything had played its part in leading me to this moment, and even my evil choices might be transformed in the cleansing waters of repentance. Whatever was good in my past also would be transformed by this encounter and in time become like a tree of life planted beside a river, bearing fruit that others would eat. Moreover, I saw a multitude of rivers flowing along beside me as one great river, pouring into the ocean of God’s mercy. And from that ocean a cloud of witnesses would arise and pour forth its sweet rain.
All this I saw in an instant. Then I knelt and turned toward the cross and no longer feared it.”
~Michael O’Brien (from the novel Theophilos)
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Like the woman at the well, I was seeking
For things that could not satisfy.
And then I heard my Savior speaking—
“Draw from My well that never shall run dry.”
Fill my cup, Lord; I lift it up Lord;
Come and quench this thirsting of my soul.
Bread of Heaven, feed me till I want no more.
Fill my cup, fill it up and make me whole.
There are millions in this world who are seeking
For pleasures earthly goods afford.
But none can match the wondrous treasure
That I find in Jesus Christ my Lord.
So my brother if the things that this world gives you
Leave hungers that won’t pass away,
My blessed Lord will come and save you
If you kneel to Him and humbly pray—
~Words & Music: Richard Blanchard
Friday, August 1, 2014
“The more a person loves God, the more reason he has to hope in Him. This hope produces in the Saints an unutterable peace, which they preserve even in adversity, because as they love God, and know how beautiful He is to those who love Him, they place all their confidence and find all their repose in Him alone.”
~St. Alphonsus Liguori