ecclesiastes

The trick is that you’re willing to help them.
The rule is to sound like you’re doing them a favor.

The rule is to create a commission system.
The trick is to get their number.

The trick is to make it personal:
No one in the world suffers like you.

The trick is that you’re providing a service.
The rule is to keep the conversation going.

The rule is their parents were foolish,
their children are greedy or insane.

The rule is to make them feel they’ve come too late.
The trick is that you’re willing to make exceptions.

The rule is to assume their parents abused them.
The trick is to sound like the one teacher they loved.

And when they say “too much,”
give them a plan.

And when they say “anger” or “rage” or “love,”
say “give me an example.”

The rule is everyone is a gypsy now.
Everyone is searching for his tribe.

The rule is you don’t care if they ever find it. 

The trick is that they feel they can.

Khaled Mattawa

Healing

The desire to grow without dying

reveals not all childish things have been put away.

This was the still and wounding prick

Peter felt during the cock-crow at dawn.

Boy, I bet that was quite the morning, huh? -

a warm-up crucifixion before the main event.

All illusions of hasty transformations were squashed

as the sun began its crawl over Golgotha.

There the stony disciple began his betrayal of

the gross inadequacy of speedy recoveries

in favor of the long difficult repentance

required to save the soul.

John Blase

Youth

Youth is not a period of time.

 It is a state of mind, 

a result of the will, 

a quality of the imagination, 

a victory of courage over timidity, 

of the taste of adventure 
over the love of comfort. 

A man doesn't grow old 

because he has lived a certain number of years. 

A man grows old when he deserts his ideal. 

The years may wrinkle his skin, 

but deserting his ideal wrinkles his soul. 

Preoccupations, fears, doubts, and despair 

are the enemies, which slowly bow us 

toward earth and turn us into dust before death. 

You will remain young as long as 

you are open to what is beautiful, 
good and great; 

receptive to the messages of 
other men and women, 

of nature and of God. 

If one day you should become bitter, 

pessimistic and gnawed by despair, 

may God have mercy on your old man's soul.

General Douglas MacArthur

The power of women

There were 11 people – ten men and one woman – 

hanging onto a rope that came down from a helicopter.

They all decided that one person should get off, 

because if they didn’t, the rope would break and everyone would die.

No one could decide who should go, 

so finally, the woman gave a really touching speech saying how she would give up her life 

to save the others, 

because women were used to giving up things for their husbands and children, 

giving in to men, 

and not receiving anything in return.

When she finished speaking, all the men started clapping.

Little Flower

It seems to me that if a little flower could speak, 
it would tell simply all what God has done for it 
without trying to hide its blessings. 

It would not say, 
under the pretext of a false humility, 
it is not beautiful or without perfume, 
that the sun has taken away its splendor 
and the storm has broken its stem 
when it know that all this is untrue. 

The flower about to tell her story
rejoices at having to publish 
the totally gratuitous gifts of Jesus. 

She knows that nothing in herself 
was capable of attracting the divine glances, 
and His mercy alone brought about 
everything that is good in her.

Thérèse de Lisieux

Six words

It is said that the shortest story ever told was 
written by the then young Ernest Hemingway, 
who said he could write a complete story in 
only six words!

His colleagues disagreed, 
and each bet $10 against the claim.

Hemingway wrote down the words on a napkin
and passed it around.

Everyone agreed that he won the bet.

Here is the shortest story ever told:

For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

I believe…

Lord,

I will never know or understand

You or Your ways.

Your birth or death

Heaven or Grace

Miracles or exclusive love of all

And especially - Resurrection.

Instead I believe. 

As carefully as the cupbearer

That serves Your blood 

At the Sabbath sacred meal.

let it go

let it go - the

smashed word broken

open vow or

the oath cracked length

wise - let it go it

was sworn to

go

let them go - the

truthful liars and

the false fair friends

and the boths and

neithers - you must let them go they

were born

to go

let all go - the

big small middling

tall bigger really

the biggest and all

things - let all go

dear

so comes love

e.e. cummings

Everything is Different Now

John 21:15-19/ Matthew 16:13-27

Peter was hurt

because of the Boss’s repeated questions.

Who could blame him?

We want to be forgiven

As quick as possible.

And Peter in a passive-aggressive manner states:

“You know what the answer is,

But I will say it again and again until You stop:

I love You.”

Then, like that day in Caesarea Philippi

The Master after hearing the answer

He was searching for

Told Peter of the path ahead.

Again with murder

and glorification.

But unlike the first time,

With his outburst and the Master’s rebuke,

Peter humbly obeys the command:

Follow Me.

Yes, Peter was born again ,

But he wasn’t born again yesterday.

Best in City

Now my ice cream truck is painted like a cheerful Panzer tank,
with a freezer full of ices and a fylfot on the flank.
And the music box is set up --hey, it's not against the law!--
to play 'Deutschland Uber Alles' after 'Turkey in the Straw'.
And although I scorn the Untermensch, the deviant, the Jew:
I tell them so politely, and I serve them ice cream too.

But so narrow-minded are they (so unethical as well!)
that they seldom come to sample the fine ice cream that I sell!
Nor even will they enter into rational debates
scheduled daily in my ice cream truck with all my skinhead mates.
So you see, it's a rankest prejudice -- as blatant as it's shitty --
that my fine all-natural ice cream has not yet won "Best In City".


FROM A COMMENT SECTION - COMMENTER LIGHTHILL

Seek Your Servant

Luke 23:39-43/ Psalm 119:176

O Lord, 

Omniscient One.

You who knows what

the internet can't record.

The actions,

            victories,

                       and defeats

of the eternal war

between the spirit and the bone. 

O One,

who does not forget

His own,

I humbly repeat

your cross-mate's request

"Remember me."

Lenten Thoughts Of A High Anglican

Isn't she lovely, "the Mistress"?
With her wide-apart grey-green eyes,
The droop of her lips and, when she smiles,
Her glance of amused surprise?

How nonchalantly she wears her clothes,
How expensive they are as well!
And the sound of her voice is as soft and deep
As the Christ Church tenor bell.

But why do I call her "the Mistress"
Who know not her way of life?
Because she has more of a cared-for air
Than many a legal wife.

How elegantly she swings along
In the vapoury incense veil;
The angel choir must pause in song
When she kneels at the altar rail.

The parson said that we shouldn't stare
Around when we come to church,
Or the Unknown God we are seeking
May forever elude our search.

But I hope that the preacher will not think
It unorthodox and odd
If I add that I glimpse in "the Mistress"
A hint of the Unknown God. 

John Betjeman

Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth

Everyone wants to understand painting. 

Why don’t they try to 

understand the song of the birds? 

Why do they love a night, a flower, 

everything which surrounds man, 

without attempting to understand them? 

Whereas where painting is concerned, 

they want to understand. 

Let them understand above all 

that the artist works from necessity; 

that he, too, 

is a minute element of the world 

to whom one should ascribe no more importance 

than so many things in nature 

which charm us but which we do not explain to ourselves. 

Those who attempt to explain a picture are on the wrong track 

most of the time.

 Pablo Picasso

Boisgeloup, winter 1934

Easter Day

THE silver trumpets rang across the Dome:  
  The people knelt upon the ground with awe:  
  And borne upon the necks of men I saw,  
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.  
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,         
  And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,  
  Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:  
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.  

My heart stole back across wide wastes of years  
  To One who wandered by a lonely sea,  
  And sought in vain for any place of rest:  
“Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,  
  I, only I, must wander wearily,  
  And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.”

Oscar Wilde 

The Gift

(Easter meditation)

I

What are you doing with 

this resurrection life you have been given?

What are you doing now that

sin is dead?

What are you doing now that

death is not the victor?

What are you doing with 

this resurrection life you have been given?

II

What are you doing with 

this resurrection life you have been given?

What are you doing now that

Love has replaced the Law?

What are you doing now that

the last will be first?

What are you doing with 

this resurrection life you have been given?

III

What are you doing with 

this resurrection life you have been given?

What are you doing now that

you are a new creation?

What are you doing now that

you do not regard anyone with a worldly view?

What are you doing with 

this resurrection life you have been given?

Passion Play

(Good Friday Meditation)

“Surely it is not I, Surely it is not I”

“I have written what I have written.”

“I do not know, I do not know, I do not know him!”

“Crucify, crucify, crucify, crucify him.”

The Director halts this repetitive babble,

with his signature line:

“It is finished.”

The curtain rips and falls,

and the cast and crew

wonder if this is

the final act

of their careers. 

All the Kingdoms of the World

(Second temptation of Christ)

‘So here’s the deal and this is what you get:

The penthouse suite with world-commanding views,

The banker’s bonus and the private jet

Control and ownership of all the news

An ‘in’ to that exclusive one percent,

Who know the score, who really run the show

With interest on every penny lent 

And sweeteners for cronies in the know.

A straight arrangement between me and you

No hell below or heaven high above

You just admit it, and give me my due

And wake up from this foolish dream of love…’

But Jesus laughed, ‘You are not what you seem.

Love is the waking life, you are the dream.’

Malcolm Guite

Release

“At this particular place, what you’re seeing, essentially, is the process that had widened that valley over the last [glacial period]. … What you’re seeing is a landscape still recovering from glaciations. It’s a 15,000-year hangover." 

***Geologist on the Washington mudslides

O Mother Earth,

you still remember 

how the ice cut you

 and never forgot

the rape of your trees

while ignoring

 the houses of the

recent arrivals.

Did you feel the

small tremor 

 from 

the False Pass fault

coming through 

your saturated limbs

that

triggered you to

abandon your

show of strength 

and 

caused you to be

 fully separated 

from your weaknesses.

The First Night

         The worst thing about death must be

          the first night.

--Juan Ramón Jiménez

Before I opened you, Jiménez,

it never occurred to me that day and night

would continue to circle each other in the ring of death,

but now you have me wondering

if there will also be a sun and a moon

and will the dead gather to watch them rise and set

then repair, each soul alone,

to some ghastly equivalent of a bed.

Or will the first night be the only night,

a darkness for which we have no other name?

How feeble our vocabulary in the face of death,

How impossible to write it down.

This is where language will stop,

the horse we have ridden all our lives

rearing up at the edge of a dizzying cliff.

The word that was in the beginning

and the word that was made flesh—

those and all the other words will cease.

Even now, reading you on this trellised porch,

how can I describe a sun that will shine after death?

But it is enough to frighten me

into paying more attention to the world’s day-moon,

to sunlight bright on water

or fragmented in a grove of trees,

and to look more closely here at these small leaves,

these sentinel thorns,

whose employment it is to guard the rose.

  

 Billy Collins

Awake O Sleeper

Ephesians 5:8-14

I don't know

why I am trying

to answer her

rhetorical question

as I cringe from the sight

of the string

of bloody floss.

The bright lights.

The rubber fingers. 

The salty blood.

Maybe it's 

one of the few

times in life when 

one is fully exposed

by their negligence.

And at the end,

I pause at the front desk

to schedule

my next confessional.

The Definition of Sin

Sin is an offense against 

reason, 

truth, 

and right conscience.

It is a failure 

in genuine love for 

God and neighbor 

caused by a 

perverse attachment to certain goods. 

It wounds the nature of man 

and injures human solidarity. 

It has been defined as

an utterance, a deed, or a desire contrary to the eternal law.

Sin is an offense against God:

 "Against you, you alone, 

have I sinned, and done 

that which is evil in your sight." 

Sin sets itself 

against God's love for us 

and turns our hearts away from it. 

Like the first sin, 

it is disobedience, 

a revolt against God 

through the will to become "like gods,"  

Sin is thus 

"love of oneself even to contempt of God."

In this proud self-exaltation, 

sin is diametrically opposed 

to the obedience of Jesus, 

which achieves our salvation.

Catechism of the Catholic Church

A Pile of Dry Shit

Matthew 5:8 ; Matthew 5:43-44

One day a famous government officer met a highly respected elderly master. 
Being conceited, he wanted to prove that he was the superior person.

As their conversation drew on, he asked the master, 
"Old monk, do you know what I think of you and the things you said?"

The master replied, "I don't care what you think of me. 
You are entitled to have your own opinion."

The officer snorted, "Well, I will tell you what I think anyway. 
In my eyes, you are just like a pile of dry shit!"

The master simply smiled and stayed quiet.

Seeing that his insult had fallen into deaf ears, he asked curiously, "And what do you think of me?"

The master said, "In my eyes, you are just like the Buddha."

Hearing this remark, the officer left happily and bragged to his wife about the incident.

His wife said to him, 
"You conceited fool! 
When a person has a heart 
like a pile of dry shit, 
he sees everyone in that light. 

The elderly master has a heart 
like that of the Buddha, 
and that is why in his eyes, 
everyone, including you, is like the Buddha!"

Countdowns

I

Twelve tribes of Israel
Eleven curtains for the tabernacle
Ten commandments given to the freed slaves
Nine months to take David's ill-advised census
Eight day old boys circumcised
Seven years Jacob worked to marry Rachel
Six days of labor before a day of rest
Five smooth stones for a slingshot
Four corners of cloaks have tassles
Three sacred festivals
Two women and a baby come before a king
And one God
who created it all from an empty void.

II

Twelve disciples of the New Israel
Eleven of them after the cross
Ten coins reunited with their owner
Nine cured lepers not turning back
Eight unmentioned people who also passed the robbed one
Seven loaves to be blessed
Six stone containers to be filled
Five virgins were foolish/Five were wise
Four days Lazarus was in the tomb
Three gathered in His name
Two pieces of wood
And one empty tomb
which opened the gates of the Kingdom.

SUNNYSIDE OF THE STREET

The Pogues    (Music)

Seen the carnival at Rome 
Had the women I had the booze 
All I can remember now 
Is little kids without no shoes 
So I saw that train 
And I got on it 
With a heartful of hate 
And a lust for vomit 
Now I'm walking on the sunny side of the street

Stepped over bodies in Bombay 
Tried to make it to the U.S.A. 
Ended up in Nepal 
Up on the roof with nothing at all 
And I knew that day 
I was going to stay 
Right where I am, on the sunny side of the street

Been in a palace, been in a jail 
I just don't want to be reborn a snail 
Just want to spend eternity 
Right where I am, on the sunny side of the street

As my mother wept it was then I swore 
To take my life as I would a whore 
I know I'm better than before 
I will not be reconstructed 
Just wanna stay right here 
On the sunny side of the street

Meditation on Mary McCleary's Prodigal Son

(click to enlarge)

 (Luke 15: 11-32)

A fact of life is

that ranchers 

are land rich and cash poor.

So when the 

baby boy asked

for his inheritance,

the Father had

to place a parcel 

of the homestead

on the market

to make it happen.

And after the sale,

the Law abiding brother

dutifully pulled 

the fence and barb wire

from the old property line

and started to place the new 

boundaries of the estate.

And with each post 

he pounded into place,

he imagined his 

departed brother

nailing someone 

in a distant land. 

(verse 30)

Angry Young Man

Luke 15:29:  But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends.'

O 

poor child

of the Law!

There is no 

decree,

ordinance,

mandate

or rule

in your 

Book of Law

on how to

throw a party!

And  after

seeing how 

Grace celebrates,

you stormed up 

to your room

and started

to write

the absolute manifesto

on how to have fun.

GRACE

The grace of God means something like: 

Here is your life.  

You might never have been, 

but you are because the party

wouldn’t have been complete without you.  

Here is the world.  

Beautiful and terrible things will happen.  

Don’t be afraid.  

I am with you.  

Nothing can ever separate us.  

It’s for you I created the universe.  

I love you.  

There’s only one catch.  

Like any other gift, 

the gift of grace can be yours 

only if you reach out and take it.  

Maybe being able to reach and take it is a gift too. 

Frederick Buechner

Ash Wednesday (2014)

Gen 3:19 ; Gen:4:10-16

Sinners 

approach the altar

to accept the dirt cross

and hear the words

said to the first couple.

After this holy event,

we leave the temple

with Cain's mark of 

protection.

But unlike Adam's progeny,

who wandered

east of Eden,

we place our trust

in the One

who tells us

He knows

the way

home.

Messiah

A young fugitive who comes to a town where the people are willing to take him in and hide him. When soldiers arrive in search of the fugitive, the townspeople protest that they know nothing. Suspecting their lie, the soldiers warn that, unless the fugitive is turned over by morning, the entire town will be destroyed.

In deep fear the people rush to their pastor for counsel. The priest, greatly troubled, starts searching scripture for an answer. All night he reads and finds nothing. Then, just before dawn, his eyes fall on a passage, 'It is better that one man should die for the people than the whole people be lost.'

He is sure that's the answer, and goes to the people with the news. The soldiers are informed that the fugitive is indeed hidden among them, and the young man is taken away. They throw a big party in the town, lasting far into the night, and celebrate their deliverance by the grace of God.

But the pastor returns to his study, still troubled. An angel appears to him and asks what's the problem. 'I still don't feel right about turning over the fugitive,' the pastor says. The angel replies, 'Did you know that he was the Messiah?'

The pastor is incredulous. 'How was I to know?' he asks. 'If, instead of reading your Bible,' the angel replies, 'you had taken time to visit the young man and looking into his eyes, you would have known he was the Messiah.'

Silent God

This is my prayer—

That, though I may not see,

I be aware

Of the Silent God

Who stands by me.

That, though I may not feel,

I be aware

Of the Mighty Love

Which doggedly follows me.

That, though I may not respond,

I be aware

That God—my Silent, Mighty God,

Waits each day.

Quietly, hopefully, persistently.

Waits each day and through each night

For me.

For me—alone.

Edwina Gateley

Falling off the Charts

CHART

From 

age one to 

middle age 44,

homicide is among

the top five ways 

to die

in America.

Then after the mature age of 45,

killing is not even in the 

top 10.

I wonder -

did we learn to love

our neighbor

or

did we crush

all our enemies?

Number One with a Bullet

CHART

Accidents do happen.

Leading cause of death 

from ages one

to forty-four.

Then from forty-five

to sixty-four 

cancer leads the way.

Or as the researchers call it

Malignant Neoplasms. 

And then for the remaining years,

poor maintenance

and regrets

causes the heart to break.  

The Archangel Gabriel

Leo Tolstoy

Once upon a time, the archangel Gabriel heard the voice of God speaking from Paradise, blessing someone.
Gabriel said, "Surely this is some important servant of my Lord, God the Father. He must be a great saint, a hermit or wise man." 

The archangel went down to earth looking for the man, but he could not find him, neither on earth nor in heaven. Then he addressed God and said, "Oh Lord, my God, please show me how to find the object of your love."

God answered him, "Go this village. And there, in a little temple, you will see a fire."

The angel went down to the temple, and he found a man praying before an idol. Then Gabriel went back to God and said, "Lord, how can you look with love upon this idol worshipper?"


God said, "It is true that he does not understand me properly. Not one man living is capable of understanding me as I am. The wisest of the whole human race are just as far from really understanding me as this man is. I look not at his mind, but at his heart. The heart of this man searches for me, and therefore he is close to me.

Someone Got Told

Mark 7:24-30

I wonder if 

after the mother's retort

to Jesus,

the teenaged Mark said

 the Aramaic equivalent of:

“Oh snap, Jesus!”

before witnessing

a God who could 

change His mind.

"Unsuffer Me"

Unlock my love

And set me free

Come fill me up

With ecstasy

Surround my heartbeat

With your fingertips

Unbound my feet

Untie my wrists

Come in to my world

Of loneliness

And wickedness

And bitterness

Unlock my love

Unsuffer me

Take away the pain

Unbruise, unbloody

Wash away the stain

Anoint my head

With your sweet kiss

My joy is dead

I long for bliss

I long for knowledge

Whisper in my ear

Undo my logic, undo my fear

Unsuffer me

Lucinda Williams

The Greatest Goal Ever -6/22/86

Maradona has the ball, 
two mark him, 
he touches the ball. 

The genius of world football 
dashes to the right 
and leaves the third 
and is going to pass to Burruchaga. 
It’s still Maradona! 

Genius! Genius! Genius! 
Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta. 
Gooooooooooal! Gooooooooooal! 

I want to cry! Dear God! 
Long live football! 
Gooooooooooal! Diegoal! Maradona! 

It’s enough to make you cry, 
forgive me. 
Maradona, in an unforgettable run, 
in the play of all time. 

Cosmic kite! What planet are you from? 
Leaving in your wake so many Englishmen, 
so that the whole country is a clenched fist 
shouting for Argentina? 

Argentina 2, England 0. 
Diegoal, Diegoal, Diego Armando Maradona. 

Thank you, God, 
for football, 
for Maradona, 
for these tears, 
for this, 
Argentina 2, England 0.

VICTOR HUGO MORALES’S RADIO ARGENTINA COMMENTARY

Video:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RiYYSradplU

City of Blinding Lights

Mt 5:14-16

The town on the hill

was blessed with a 

great light.

The poor

the lame

the weak

from the 

surrounding villages

saw the light

but could not go up

the hill

to experience the light.

They shouted up to

the town

to bring the light 

down the hill 

and to their villages.

But the town said, 

"No. There are too many technical issues.

Will the darkness swallow up the light?

Will we lose some (or all!) of the light

if we give it away?

What can you give us in

exchange for the light?

We will have to examine this

in much further detail

before we do anything."

The Accused

Just as he locked the door, as he pocketed the key,
as he glanced over his shoulder, they arrested him.
They tortured him until they tired of it.
‘Look,’ they said,
‘the key is your key, the house is your house,
we accept that now; but why did you put the key
in your pocket as if to hide it from us?’

They let him go, but his name is still on a list.

Yannis Ritsos
translated from the Greek by David Harsent

Thanks, Mr. Sun

I’m thankful the sun starts slow
and glides in a graceful burning
arc across the firmament. I don’t
think I could handle life if ole’ Sol
was a herky-jerky-shakey-jake.
Mr. Sun stays in his own lane,
daily commuting with polite constancy,
never nervous about missing
something like a primo parking spot.
For a fireball it seems to have it all
together, unshyly shining golden on
this blue-born world’s flappable.

John Blase