Peace

Be Still

Know

I AM HERE.

The intuitive mind is a sacred gift
and the rational mind is a faithful servant.
We have created a society that honors the servant
and has forgotten the gift.
Albert Einstein



Alas! The world is full of enormous lights and mysteries,
and man shuts them from himself with one small hand.
The Baal Shem Tov




I saw my Lord with the eye of the heart.
I said: "Who are you?"
He answered: "You."
Mansur Al-Hallaj

Approaching the End of (Ordinary) Time

"And there shall be signs..."

hmmmm. . . it's all good!

A blessing on all at work in kitchens, feeding family, friends, or strangers.

"A good soup attracts chairs" (African Proverb)

War Memorial

Holy God

Roman Hurko's videos of Liturgy No. 2

Filmed in the beautiful 11th century Vydubytsky Ukrainian Orthodox Monastery in Kyiv. Performed by the Vydubychi Church Choir and conducted by Volodymyr Viniar.

Nunc Dimittis------Subito!!

This posting is one of my favorites, and it was gathering dust in the archives.
Let's have another view.




Libera's Ben Crawley sing a duet with Aled Jones.

Broken

"Toward the end of Leonard Bernstein's "Mass", the priest, richly dressed in splendid liturgical vestments, is lifted up by his people. He towers high above the adoring crowd, carrying in his hands a glass chalice. Suddenly, the human pyramid collapses, and the priest comes tumbling down. His vestments are ripped off, and his glass chalice falls to the ground and is shattered. As he walks slowly through the debris of his former glory-----barefoot, wearing only blue jeans and a T-shirt-----
children's voices are heard singing, "Laude, Laude, Laude"----"Praise, Praise, Praise." Suddenly the priest notices the broken chalice. He looks at it for a long time and then, haltingly, he says,"I never realized that broken glass could shine so brightly." ----------------Henri J. M. Nouwen, "Life of the Beloved"

Whenever her phone would ring, she would mutter,"What fresh hell is this?"

"If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to."
-----Dorothy Parker

Day of Wrath, O Day of Mourning

I know our liturgical emphasis at funerals is now on the resurrection and rejoicing in new life, but there's a part of me that's a little nostalgic for the days of the "Black Requiem" ---the black cope and pall on the casket, lots of incense, somber music. As a young boy, I served at alot of these symbolically rich ceremonies.
I started out reading and then later on chanting the great latin sequence "DIES IRAE":



On Hearing the Dies Iræ Sung in the Sistine Chapel (Author: Oscar Wilde)

Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring,
Sad olive-groves, or silver-breasted dove,
Teach me more clearly of Thy life and love
Than terrors of red flame and thundering.
The empurpled vines dear memories of Thee bring:
A bird at evening flying to its nest,
Tells me of One who had no place of rest:
I think it is of Thee the sparrows sing.

Come rather on some autumn afternoon,
When red and brown are burnished on the leaves,
And the fields echo to the gleaner's song,
Come when the splendid fulness of the moon
Looks down upon the rows of golden sheaves,
And reap Thy harvest: we have waited long.




Requiescat

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone
She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,

All my life's buried here,
Heap earth upon it.

Oscar Wilde