Schola Optima Studium Librorum
“The best school is the study of books.”
Schola Optima Studium Librorum
“The best school is the study of books.”
Month: December 2011
‘Into The Darkest Hour’ by Madeleine L’Engle
It was a time like this,
War & tumult of war,
a horror in the air.
Hungry yawned the abyss-
and yet there came the star
and the child most wonderfully there.
It was time like this
of fear & lust for power,
license & greed and blight-
and yet the Prince of bliss
came into the darkest hour
in quiet & silent light.
And in a time like this
how celebrate his birth
when all things fall apart?
Ah! Wonderful it is
with no room on the earth
the stable is our heart.
Quote
We have never had more information about other people’s tragedies. I don’t believe that we have ever lived in a more alienated world than the one in which we are living now.
—Pedro Almodovar, BOMB 47, 1994
‘Annunciation’ by Denise Levertov
Denise Levertov
‘Hail, space for the uncontained God’
From the Agathistos Hymn, Greece, VIc
We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.
Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.
But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
God waited.
She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.
____________________________
Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
More often
those moments
when roads of light and storm
open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from
in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.
______________________________
She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child – but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.
Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
only asked
a simple, ‘How can this be?’
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
perceiving instantly
the astounding ministry she was offered:
to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power –
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love –
but who was God.
(via chriscorrigan.com)
Sunrise on one of the last days before solstice.
Dear Dunkin Donuts, it has been a month since my last confection…
Quote: “Stop talking about ‘social’ “
Social is not a feature. Social is not an application. Social is a deep human motivation that drives our behaviour almost every second that we’re awake. It doesn’t matter if we’re online or offline, on a browser or using an app. Humans are social creatures.
Advent Calendar
by Rowan Williams
He will come like last leaf’s fall.
One night when the November wind
has flayed the trees to bone, and earth
wakes choking on the mould,
the soft shroud’s folding.
He will come like frost.
One morning when the shrinking earth
opens on mist, to find itself
arrested in the net
of alien, sword-set beauty.
He will come like dark.
One evening when the bursting red
December sun draws up the sheet
and penny-masks its eye to yield
the star-snowed fields of sky.
He will come, will come,
will come like crying in the night,
like blood, like breaking,
as the earth writhes to toss him free.
He will come like child.
(via the guardian)
Sunflower in Autumn.
Mighty Mercy
by John Piper
Why did He choose a northern maid
From Nazareth, who had to trade
Her Galilee for Judah just
To get Messiah where He must
Be born? A strange and roundabout
Procedure for a God, no doubt,
Who values His efficiency
And rules the world from sea to sea!
Why not a girl from Bethlehem?
Well half the girls in town would stem
From David’s line. And carpenters
Aplenty there could bear the slurs
And gossip on a virgin got
with child, who blushed and said she’d not
Once kissed her man this whole year past.
Why not? Because God’s power is vast,
And in one little virgin birth
His sovereign joy and mighty mirth
In saving us from evil bent
Could never, never rest content.
Instead He turned and set His sight
To spangle Rome with all His might;
And took a girl from Galilee
To magnify His sovereignty.
And made the Roman king conspire
With God, to serve a purpose higher
Than he or any in the realm
Could see—a stroke to overwhelm
A few with faith and cause their heart
To know the truth, at least in part,
That, though God loves efficiency
And rules the world from sea to sea,
He does not go from here to there
By shortest routes to save His fare.
He’d rather start in Galilee,
Then pass a law in Rome, you see,
To get the child down south at length,
And magnify His sovereign strength.
God rules the flukes of history
To see that Micah’s prophecy
Comes true. Why did He choose a maid
From Nazareth? Perhaps she prayed
That endless mercy might abound
And take the longer way around.
The mighty mercy we adore
As we light advent candle four.
(By John Piper. © Desiring God. Website: desiringGod.org)
Advent Poems
Why is it so difficult to find well-written Advent poems? Last year I posted a few poems on the theme of Advent. It was a project that was more challenging than I anticipated. I learned that there is a wealth of seasonal poems including Christmas or winter related themes and populated with snowflakes, elves, reindeer, snowmen, chestnuts, and other such nostalgia. Also, I discovered many religious poems that are too horrid to post. Maybe ‘horrid’ is too strong of a word, but it did concern me that these religious poems were so badly composed that I almost abandoned the project. Suffice it to say, I did find a few good poems to mark the season of Advent.
If you are of a Christian liturgical or orthodox tradition you already know that Sunday marks the fourth Sunday of Advent. [1] This Sunday I will post an Advent poem a day until Christmas Day. Hope you enjoy the selections, and feel free to add suggestions in the comments section of the blog.
NOTES: [1] November 27 – First Sunday of Advent, December 4 – Second Sunday of Advent, December 11 – Third Sunday of Advent, December 18 – Fourth Sunday of Advent
Horizon Records. Since 1975.
Three things I learned from Christopher Hitchens
This morning, after reading the news of the passing of celebrity intellectual Christopher Hitchens, I reblogged a few items and quotes on my Tumblr page. [1] [2] It was not his rhetoric [3] that attracted me to his public persona. Nor is it his writings that attracted me to him. I have not read all his books. Though I do confess that I subscribe to The Atlantic for the sheer pleasure of reading his articles.
What enamors me to Hitchens is his justo to engage in the Great Debate. [4] That inspires me. Where most of our culture retreats from serious discussion of issues of faith, philosophy and religion–preferring reductionist thought and banal entertainment–Hitchens stoked the fires of conversation and debate with wit, passion and intrigue. In reflecting what I might learn from the life of Christopher Hitchens, I feel quite inadequate. There is so much to learn from him, yet, here are three short thoughts:
- If you are a mediocre or even good writer, your words will survive you.
- Friends will shape you and your thinking.
- Avoid being defined by your critics and fans.
Writers and public intellectuals will compose grand obituaries with wise thoughts, expressions and reflections. Their words will be published today and throughout the weekend in the world’s largest newspapers and magazines. And then there are a lot of us beyond the periphery of the spotlight and public square who in some small way are affected by his legacy. To conclude, as one writer concluded his obituary, [5] Christopher Eric Hitchens (1949-2011). R.I.P.
NOTES: [1] “I became a journalist…” and “to remember friendship is to recall those conversations…” and Postscript: Christopher Hitchens, 1949-2011. [2] To some who know me beyond the façade of blogs and social media, this may or may not appear an odd display. [3] He often offered false assumptions and careless conclusions in his arguments. In this, I refer to rhetoric as it relates to classical education (rhetoric builds on grammar and logic) not polemics. [4] The Great Debate is more than a book or video (featuring Hitchens), it is an age-old debate of the existence of God. [5] “Christopher Hitchens Has Died”
For me to remember friendship is to recall those conversations that it seemed a sin to break off: the ones that made the sacrifice of the following day a trivial one.
Christopher Hitchens, 1949-2011
Postscript: Christopher Hitchens, 1949-2011
Over the course of his heroic, uncomplaining eighteen-month battle with the cancer, I found myself rehearsing what I might say to an obituary writer, should one ring after the news of Christopher’s death. I thought to say something along the lines—the air of Byron, the steel pen of Orwell, and the wit of Wilde.
A bit forced, perhaps, but you get the idea. Christopher may not, as Byron did, write poetry, but he could recite staves, cantos, yards of it. As for Byronic aura, there were the curly locks, the unbuttoned shirt revealing a wealth—verily, a woolly mastodon—of pectoral hair, as well as the roguish, raffish je ne sais quoi good looks. (Somewhere in “Hitch-22,” he notes that he had now reached the age when “only women wanted to go to bed with me.”)
– Christopher Buckley on his friend Christopher Hitchens: http://nyr.kr/u3IjyF
Cabin Floor Records. Looks like my kind of store.
Poetrio on hiatus until February 2012
Some of you may already know this, but I received an email from Malaprop’s informing that the Poetrio readings will be on hiatus until February 2012. Here’s an excerpt from an email I received:
Here at Malaprop’s, we’ll take a break from Poetrio in December 2011 and in January 2012. Proximity of holidays and sometimes risky weather often make it difficult for visiting poets and some of you to travel to Poetrio in December and January; but be sure to mark your 2012 calendars for the first Poetrio of the new year: 3:00 p.m. on Sunday afternoon, February 5.
What does a creative director do?
‘What does a creative director do at a publishing house?’ he asked after we were introduced to each other at a party. That question was asked at several events I attended this weekend. At the party, I paused to consider general day to day tasks that consume me. Took a sip from the Belgian-style wheat ale we were enjoying and said, ‘A creative director is like an air traffic controller for an art department.’ As that metaphor seemed to resonate and take form in his mind I added, ‘An air traffic controller who often has to pilot the aircraft that is landing.’ That seemed to raise a few eyebrows.
I’d like to know how other creative directors define their role.
‘You… will go places…’
Choose Your Own Adventure at the library.
This reminds me of a song…
The naked ribs of a building.
Coffeehouse Junkie 