Some students take offense very easily.
During one lecture, a student asked a question I’ve heard many times: “If we evolved from monkeys, why are there still monkeys?” My response was and is always the same: we didn’t evolve from monkeys. Humans and monkeys evolved from a common ancestor. One ancestral population evolved in one direction toward modern-day monkeys, while another evolved toward humans. The explanation clicked for most students, but not all, so I tried another. I asked the students to consider this: Catholics are the oldest Christian denomination, and so if Protestants evolved from Catholics, why are there still Catholics? Some students laughed, some found it a clarifying example, and others were clearly offended.
Two days later, a student walked down to the lectern after class and informed me that I was wrong about Catholics. He said Baptists were the first Christians and that this is clearly explained in the Bible. His mother told him so. I asked where this was explained in the Bible. He glared at me and said, “John the Baptist, duh!” and then walked away.
Defending Darwin
3.14.2015
2.17.2015
Ash Wednesday
(2015)
No gifts.
No chocolate.
No parties.
No alleluias.
Just the faithful
gathering at
His command
on an
ordinary
winter Wednesday.
They pray that
their hardened hearts
be opened
so the ashes
of pain and sin
that are
encased in
them
be scraped away.
No chocolate.
No parties.
No alleluias.
Just the faithful
gathering at
His command
on an
ordinary
winter Wednesday.
They pray that
their hardened hearts
be opened
so the ashes
of pain and sin
that are
encased in
them
be scraped away.
2.10.2015
To Be Rid of a Rival
For this curse, you need a liter of good grain liquor
and a heartful of unquenchable hate.
Keep the bottle corked, and spend a long, dry night
thinking of everything your rival has
that ought to be yours.
At dawn, roll up your trousers
and set off barefoot down an unmaintained
side road that dissolves into sand, then dead-ends
at the river. Walk upstream until you see
the swift skein of the water tangle and fray,
marking the snag
where the river dumps its garbage.
An almost spokeless bicycle wheel, an oil drum,
two traffic cones and the aluminum
bones of a beach chair have fetched up on this altar
of wet rock and weed. Wade in as close
as you can to make your own
ugly offering.
The stream may be icy, but your stoked-up rage
will keep you warm as you unstop the bottle
and drink deep, wishing your rival
gone gone gone gone. Your curse will gain
strength with every swig.
Picture a heart attack;
picture a jittery mugger with a gun;
a missed stoplight and a truck; a sailboat
in a thunderstorm. When your head starts to swim,
take a final pull, then throw the bottle hard
onto the trash heap. A trail
of white lightning will
glitter for an instant like shards of glass across the air.
Wish once more. If your libation is accepted,
some misfortune will soon carry your rival away—
cast off, washed up, worn down— until nothing is left
but a slight catch in the river’s throat.
1.05.2015
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 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 get their number.
The trick is to make it personal:
No one in the world suffers like you.
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 to keep the conversation going.
The rule is their parents were foolish,
their children are greedy or insane.
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 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.
The trick is to sound like the one teacher they loved.
And when they say “too much,”
give them a plan.
give them a plan.
And when they say “anger” or “rage” or “love,”
say “give me an example.”
say “give me an example.”
The rule is everyone is a gypsy now.
Everyone is searching for his tribe.
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
8.17.2014
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
John Blase
7.28.2014
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.
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;
good and great;
receptive to the messages of
other men and women,
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
6.19.2014
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.
6.13.2014
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
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
5.18.2014
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.
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.
5.11.2014
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
5.04.2014
Everything is Different Now
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
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
4.27.2014
Seek Your Servant
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
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
4.22.2014
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 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?
4.15.2014
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
‘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
3.30.2014
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
3.23.2014
Awake O Sleeper
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
3.16.2014
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!"
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.
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
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
3.09.2014
Meditation on Mary McCleary's Prodigal Son
(click to enlarge)
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.
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
3.02.2014
Ash Wednesday (2014)
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.'
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
2.23.2014
Falling off the Charts
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
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.
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.
2.16.2014
Someone Got Told
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.
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