tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1991720153656523532024-02-07T04:38:59.614+01:00One Arrow AloneTurgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-84252698787805485342021-10-22T14:45:00.003+02:002021-10-22T14:45:31.499+02:00These are the Names<p><i><span lang="EN-GB">In the
first weekday Mass that I celebrated, a chalice with hosts (a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ciborium_(container)">ciborium</a>) stood
on the altar. However, I had forgotten to place it on the small white linen
cloth that is spread out halfway during the Mass (the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corporal_(liturgy)">corporal</a>). I had
also forgotten to remove the lid from the ciborium. As the time came to
distribute Communion, I was suddenly faced with a major problem: could I
distribute these hosts as the “Body of Christ”, because they had been on the
altar? Or was it still only ordinary bread, because it had not been placed on
the corporal, and would I commit idolatry by calling it the “Body of Christ”?</span></i></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I have become
rather a fan of the book <i>These are the Names</i> by Tommy Wieringa. It is
more exciting than the story above, but to my mind, there is a connection. Spoilers
alert!</span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">These are
the Names</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> has two
main storylines. The first one concerns a band of refugees in the former Soviet
Union, no friends of each other but clinging together for a greater chance at survival,
making their way across a barren wasteland, hoping to find a habitable place to
live. They remember being in the back of a truck, and a moment of tense silence
at a border crossing – which would presumably make them ‘illegal aliens’.<br />Because of the
harsh conditions, some of them fall sick or die. But in the end, the remaining five
struggle into the town of Mikhailopol.</span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The second
storyline concerns the police chief of Mikhailopol, Pontus Beg. He is part of a
corrupt system and has made his peace with the occasional indulgence of
dishonesty or violence, though he is not a bad man in general. He has been in
love once, a relationship that did not last a year, and since then has been
relatively successful in ignoring his grief and settling into a convenient
life. He has a sexual relationship with his cleaning lady, which could be
considered an abuse of power and a boundary violation; but while she is
dependent on him economically, she holds the power in the relationship, as she
decides the time and frequency of their sexual encounters (only during
infertile periods).</span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Near the
beginning of the book, the Jewish rabbi of Mikhailopol dies, and there are no
other Jews in town. The responsibility of organizing the funeral falls on
Pontus, who finds himself confronting the puzzling question: how does one bury
a Jew? At a loss, he visits the rabbi of a neighbouring town, Zalman Eder. As Pontus
learns more about Judaism, he becomes intrigued by it, and eventually he finds
out that his mother had a name of Jewish origin. Was she a Jew? And if so, has
Pontus always been a Jew without realizing it? Is he accidentally within the
boundaries of the community chosen by God?</span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The title of
the book, <i>These are the Names</i>, corresponds to </span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 110%; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HE;">וְאֵלֶּה שְׁמוֺת</span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HE;"><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span>,</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> the opening words of the book of Exodus
(of which the Hebrew name is <i>Shemot</i>, ‘Names’). Exodus is about a chosen
community leaving behind their old life of enslavement, oppression and scarcity.
Through the agency of Moses, they are liberated by God from the Egyptians while
passing through the Red Sea. At Mount Sinai, God gives them directions about
how to live, and promises that He will lead them to a good land. But while the
book looks forward to the Promised Land, they never actually get there.<br />In fact, we
learn from the other Books of Moses that most of the people who set out from
Egypt die on the desert journey. Even Moses himself dies in the desert; he sees
the Land but does not enter it. That is the task of his successor, Joshua / Yehoshua.<br /></span>Christians
believe that a certain Jew named Yeshua (a variant of Yehoshua) has crossed the
boundary of the spiritual Promised Land and that everyone who believes in Him already
lives there with Him. Jews are sceptical of this claim and argue that no such boundary
has been crossed.</p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Some of the
refugees are Christian, including a man from Ethiopia. He does not speak the
others’ language, but he is seen kissing a cross. Another refugee from Ashgabat
considers this insulting, because to him Black men are on the level of animals,
and so they do not belong within the community that honors God.</span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Pontus is probably
Christian in a vague cultural way. From the Jewish perspective, however, he is a
<i>goy</i>. He learns that while it is possible for a <i>goy</i> to embrace the
Jewish customs and to study the faith, he will always lack something. If he is
not biologically related to the patriarchs, he will always lack something undefinable
that is passed down in Jewish heredity. The rabbi tells him, ‘The goy can cross
the bridge but never reach the other side.’<br /></span>Pontus reads
in an old Jewish book (all translations are mine):</p>
<p class="Poetry"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The Jews
are not bound to the Torah because God has created us, but the Torah was given
to us because God brought us out of Egypt, because He has bound himself to us
and because we have been chosen. If this were otherwise, Blacks and Whites
would be equal as well, because God has created all people.</span></i></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Of course, there
is an indication that Pontus is possibly Jewish. In that case he would be able
to live as a complete Jew. But perhaps he does not want to become a Jew. For
one, his cleaning lady would not understand and probably disapprove of his
being circumcised.<br /></span>However, he is
fascinated by the ritual bath of Judaism:</p>
<p class="Poetry"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He was not
sure if it was allowed, but sometimes he longed, even more than for the Eternal
One, for submersion in the mikve, the stone niche deep in the earth, where the
living water would cleanse his soul.</span></i></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But Pontus
will always be Pontus: a ‘bridge’ hovering over the water, connecting two
shores. You start with the Baptist, you end up with a Pontifex – that is what
history does.</span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The longing to
start a new life is mirrored in a more fear-filled conversation with one of the
refugees:<br /><i><span lang="EN-US">‘Where are
you from? Is there someone we can inform that you are here? Wife, children,
family? Someone will want to know where you are?’<br /></span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">‘No family.’<br /></span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">‘And where
are you from?’<br /></span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">‘The hedge…
The hedge of terrors.’<br /></span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">‘What is
that?’<br /></span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">‘The
poacher says…he says we should cross it, in order to be at home.’</span></i></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Near the end
of the book, we discover that the refugees have been deceived. The people who
took their money to get them across the border did not want to run any risks. The
border crossing that the refugees remember was artificial, fake: in reality, there
was no border. They are in their own country after all, even if they cannot
prove it. However, that does not matter – there are also Chinese immigrants,
and as long as they are harmless, no one investigates too closely.</span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Likewise Pontus
does not know which country is his home: the Promised Land, or the lands of the
<i>goyim</i>. He is invited to cleanse himself in the <i>mikve</i>, but
hesitates and refuses. He finds consolation in participating in Jewish rituals
with the rabbi in the other town, without choosing on which side of the boundary
he wants to live. The rabbi does not have that liberty: he is clearly a Jew
living in a foreign land, but he is alone, old and tired, he does not have
prayer services and does not observe all the commandments.</span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the final
chapter, <i>Little Moses</i>, Pontus takes a young boy, one of the refugees, to
the border of his own country. The border is heavily guarded from the other
side. The other side offers a better life, so obviously the government there has
an interest in limiting the influx of migrants. It would be very unlikely that
the boy could cross that border, given the technology they have to hunt down
trespassers.<br /></span>Pontus offers the
boy to become his adoptive father, to give him a chance of acquiring an Israeli
passport, permission to enter the Promised Land.<br />Pontus, who is
perhaps a Jew, will perhaps become the legal father of someone who will perhaps
have better opportunities after crossing the borders of the Promised Land. Within
those boundaries is life, outside of the boundaries is struggle.<br />The boy gazes
into the distance. What he thinks or what he chooses, we do not know.</p>
<p class="Poetry"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In my first
weekday Mass, rather than repeating the long Eucharistic Prayer and upsetting the congregation, I distributed
the hosts from the ciborium that had escaped my attention, and proclaimed them
to be the “Body of Christ”. After Mass, I went to the tabernacle as secretly as
possible and whispered the words of the consecration of the bread once again,
under my breath. Consecrated hosts and unconsecrated hosts should always be
kept clearly apart.<br /></span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">Sometime after
that experience, I talked to a young colleague who asked with some surprise, ‘Did
you not form an intention before your ordination either to consecrate only the bread
and wine on the corporal, or all the bread and wine on the altar?’<br /></span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">I never
did.</span></i></p>Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-48498852566833713242021-07-14T15:08:00.004+02:002021-07-14T15:12:13.524+02:00Space for the Imperfect<p>I do not read
Italian easily. When I read <i>Fratelli tutti</i>, I read it in English. Some
time afterwards, I was invited to give a talk about it for a Dutch group. To my
surprise, in almost every memorable phrase I wanted to quote, I found the Dutch
translation lacking. This surprised me, as it had been produced by the Flemish,
who tend to combine accuracy with readability.</p>
<p class="Poetry">(For some
reason, the Netherlands insist on producing their own Dutch translations in
addition to the Flemish ones; these are usually well-intentioned but overly
literal and rather clunky as a result.)</p>
<p class="Poetry">Some examples
of nuances that got lost in the Flemish translation:</p><p class="Poetry"><b>Sapore</b></p>
<p class="Poetry">(1) <i>il
gusto e il sapore della realtà</i> (FT 33) has been translated as <i>de smaak
en geur van de realiteit</i> (the taste and smell of reality). English: “the
taste and flavour of the truly real”. Flavour is more than smell. As far as I
know, <i>gusto</i> and <i>sapore</i> both mean “taste”, but <i>gusto</i> is the
taste you have for something (appetite), whereas <i>sapore</i> is the taste something
has of itself.</p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In the first
paragraph Pope Francis refers to <i>il sapore del Vangelo</i> “the flavour of
the Gospel”. His choice of words connects the Gospel and reality, in the sense
that both have a “taste” that can be appreciated. This fits squarely into the
Ignatian spiritual tradition.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Also, the use
of <i>sapore</i> makes it possible to point out that <i>sapiens</i>, the Latin
word for “wise”, literally means “tasting”. Wise discernment, then, is only
possible when one knows the flavour of the Gospel and of reality. And flavour
is more than smell, because it is connected to nourishment, to that which feeds
us, becomes part of us and gives us life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">(The Kantian adage
<i>Sapere aude!</i> “Dare to know!” could also be translated as “Dare to taste!”
Although this maxim might not be universally approved of, certainly not by Kant.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><b>Per questo</b></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">(2) About the
Samaritan in the parable, Pope Francis writes: <i>La dedizione al servizio era
la grande soddisfazione davanti al suo Dio e alla sua vita, e per questo un
dovere.</i> </span><span lang="NL">(FT 79)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="NL">This has been translated: <i>Zijn poging om
iemand anders te helpen, gaf hem grote voldoening in het leven en tegenover
zijn God, en betekende voor hem gewoon zijn plicht doen.</i> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(His attempt to help someone else
gave him great satisfaction in life and before his God, and meant for him
simply doing his duty.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">English: “His
effort to assist another person gave him great satisfaction in life and before
his God, and thus became a duty.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In this case,
I think both translations fall short. They refer to an isolated incident, an “attempt”
or “effort”, whereas the original speaks of <i>dedizione al servizio</i>
(dedication to service) as a character trait. But later in the sentence, the English
gets something right which the Dutch doesn’t, because the Dutch simply
juxtaposes “satisfaction” and “duty”. In both the Italian and the English, it
is quite clear that duty is causally subordinate to satisfaction: service gave
the Samaritan great satisfaction, and <i>per questo</i> “thus” it was a duty.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This, too, is
part of Ignatian spirituality: your heart’s joy indicates your appointed path.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><b>Nessuno si salva</b></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(3) Repetition
is a form of emphasis. There is a phrase that occurs three times: <i>nessuno si
salva</i> “no one is saved”. Obviously this verb, while it could refer to any threat,
has a strong theological connotation: being saved from sin to live in nearness
to God.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">These are the
three times it is used in <i>Fratelli tutti</i>:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">- <i>ci siamo
ricordati che nessuno si salva da solo, che ci si può salvare unicamente
insieme</i> (FT 32). English: “Once more we realized that no one is saved
alone; we can only be saved together.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">- <i>hanno
capito che nessuno si salva da solo</i> (FT 54). English: “They [viz. the
people who provided essential services during the pandemic] understood that no
one is saved alone.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And then the
clincher:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">- <i>Abbiamo
bisogno di far crescere la consapevolezza che oggi o ci salviamo tutti o
nessuno si salva</i> (FT 137). English: “We need to develop the awareness that
nowadays we are either all saved together or no one is saved.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A bold
statement that could give any traditional systematic theologian an outbreak of
rashes. I don’t know if they were on the Flemish translation committee, but this
translation certainly neutralizes the impact:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We moeten
het bewustzijn ontwikkelen dat we de problemen van onze tijd alleen samen of
helemaal niet zullen oplossen</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> (We need to develop the awareness that we will solve the problems of
our time either together or not at all).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Come on – “solving”
is not “saving”, let alone “being saved”! I suppose the Flemish decided on a
more optimistic translation of <i>ci salviamo</i>, “we are saved” which can
also be translated “we save ourselves”. But still!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(Side note: it
is interesting that the statement “no one is saved alone” is always prefaced by
a verb of mental activity: <i>ci siamo ricordati</i> “we remembered”, <i>hanno
capito</i> “they understood”, <i>far crescere la consapevolezza</i> “make the
awareness grow”.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><b>Focolare</b></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(4) When discussing
the importance of the State as a safeguard of tranquil family life, <i>un caldo
focolare domestico </i>(“a warm domestic hearth”, FT 164) has been translated: <i>een
huis</i> (a house). No comment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><b>A tense situation</b></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">These were
sentences I wanted to quote to my Dutch audience, and at every turn I had to
correct the translation. I knew something was off because I remembered it was different
in the English translation. But while I was referring back to the Italian
original, I noticed something else, a revolutionary point that has been erased
in both the English and the Dutch translations.</span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">You see, Pope
Francis makes an unprecedented move in the last chapter on interreligious
dialogue. He omits any reference to the Christian religion as the ultimate revelation
which everyone is called to adhere to. But he does not minimize his own
commitment to faith in Jesus Christ. In fact he says – and here I will quote
the official English translation first:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“We Christians
are very much aware that “if the music of the Gospel ceases to resonate in our
very being, we will lose the joy born of compassion, the tender love born of
trust, the capacity for reconciliation that has its source in our knowledge
that we have been forgiven and sent forth. If the music of the Gospel ceases to
sound in our homes, our public squares, our workplaces, our political and
financial life, then we will no longer hear the strains that challenge us to
defend the dignity of every man and woman”. Others drink from other sources.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When I first
read it, I thought the Pope went pretty far already with the concluding sentence, dropping this fact of
life on his readers so casually and without any hint of regret or concern. Then
I read the preceding quote in Italian, and my appreciation deepened.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Se la
musica del Vangelo smette di suonare nelle nostre case, nelle nostre piazze,
nei luoghi di lavoro, nella politica e nell’economia, avremo spento la melodia
che ci provocava a lottare per la dignità di ogni uomo e donna.</span></i></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Two letters
made all the difference.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The English
translation speaks of “the strains that challenge us”. This is the present
tense, which may be used to indicate a general and abstract truth. Beavers
build dams. Lampposts increase visibility and safety. The Gospel challenges us
to fight for dignity. The present tense gently encourages us to include generally
everyone in ‘us’, just as Red Bull’s slogan “It gives you wings” is not aimed
at a specific ‘you’. And so, “The Gospel challenges us” becomes a statement
about the Gospel, not about us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(The Dutch
translation suffers from the same problem: <i>de melodie die ons oproept te
vechten</i> “the melody that summons us to fight” – also present tense.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But this is
different in the Italian. The tense is imperfect: not <i>provoca</i>, but <i>provocava</i>.
The imperfect tense describes things that went on for a while, or habitually.
The melody of the Gospel <i>provoked</i> us, or rather <i>kept on provoking us</i>
to fight for dignity.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The imperfect
tense gives the reader space to compare his own experience with the experience
described. Perhaps he feels an allegiance to the Gospel, but does not remember it
challenging him to fight for someone else’s dignity; in that case, perhaps it
is not too late to make the experience his own. Perhaps the Gospel does not form
part of his life story; in that case, he will have heard not a religious
advertisement, but the sediment of an old man’s personal experiences and
encounters. Which does not call for affirmation or rejection, but only asks to
be taken seriously.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So much is
lost when we do not give space to the imperfect.<br /></span></p><p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(As I write
this, I notice another discrepancy. If the music of the Gospel ceases to sound, then what? According to the English translation, <i>we will no longer hear
the strains that challenge us</i>. This is a simple future tense: <i>we will
(not) hear</i>. But the Italian uses a more complex tense, the <i>futuro
anteriore</i>, a tense that takes a future vantage point in order to look back:
<i>avremo spento</i>, “we will have turned off”.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Poetry"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">If the melody
of the Gospel ceases to sound, <i>we will have turned it off</i>.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-71647405479574910512018-09-28T17:30:00.003+02:002018-09-28T17:32:32.718+02:00Baal ha-Khalomot<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Disclaimer:
moving around in Hebrew texts, I am like a half-blind man walking on crutches.
It would be ironic if a text which revolves around the verb ‘interpret’ should
receive a blatant misinterpretation from me, but the ironic and the actual have
significant overlap, actually.</span></i><br />
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">When the
unsuspecting, though rather gossipy Joseph ben Jacob wanders into Dothan,
looking for his brothers, they see him coming from afar and call him <i>ba‘al
ha-kh<sup>a</sup>lomōt</i>, ‘master of dreams’. In their hatred, they throw him
into a pit, and through an unfortunate series of events Joseph ends up in
Egypt. There he rises in the ranks to become steward of Potiphar’s house, but
through an incident with Potiphar’s wife, Joseph ends up imprisoned again. (The
precise nature of the incident might be more dubious than it appears at first
sight!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In the dungeon
he meets two officials of the King of Egypt: a cupbearer and a baker. One night
they have a dream. For my studies, I was analyzing the chapter about these
dreams (Genesis 40) and discovered some interesting details.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">For starters,
it is a bit ambiguous whether the cupbearer and the baker have different dreams
at all. A hint is given that the dream has a different interpretation for each
of them, but when the baker suddenly appears to have had a completely different
dream, it is a bit surprising.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Prodded by
Joseph, who asks them why they look so sad and then invites them to tell their
dream because interpretations belong to God (the logic of this is somewhat
elusive), the cupbearer begins elegantly, ‘In my dream <b>!</b> a vine was
before me, and in the vine were three branches…’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The dream
branches out until it shifts to the cupbearer himself: ‘And the cup of Pharaoh
was in my hand, and I took the grapes, and I pressed them into the cup of
Pharaoh, and placed the cup in the hand of Pharaoh.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Joseph has an
extensive response. The first half is the interpretation of the dream itself;
the second half is a request and a declaration of innocence. In the request, one
action is emphasized: <i>zākhar</i> ‘remember’. Unfortunately, this gets lost
in most translations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The ESV has ‘Only
remember me, when it is well with you, and please do me the kindness to mention
me to Pharaoh, and so get me out of this house.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">More literally:
‘Only remember me close to you, when it is well with you, and do grant kindness
to me, and remember me to Pharaoh, and get me out of this house.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It is
basically one job: ‘remember me close to you … remember me to Pharaoh.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And then
Joseph tells them that he was stolen away from the land of the Hebrews and that
he has done nothing to deserve being kept ‘in the pit’, as he calls it – an old
wound opens again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Abruptly the
story continues, ‘When the chief baker saw that the interpretation was
favorable…’ (ESV)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The entire
second half of Joseph’s speech is ignored. The baker does not even ‘see’ it,
let alone remember it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In this
translation, another thing is not visible. Something even more fundamental than
old wounds is echoed here: ‘And the chief baker saw <i>that it was good</i>.’ God’s
praise of his creation is repeated. But it is out of place, because things are out
of place: the light has been separated from the dark and somehow Joseph has
ended up on the wrong side of the divide.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Incidentally, ‘interpret’
is a verb here. I would guess that the sentence could be translated ‘When the
chief baker saw that he interpreted well’…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Then it is the
baker’s turn to speak. His introduction is similar to the cupbearer’s, but it
has none of the elegance. He declares, not ‘I also had a dream’ (ESV), but ‘Also
I was in my dream.’ The baker starts with himself and reconstructs his dream
upward from there: three baskets, food in the supreme basket (‘supreme’ because
<i>‘elyōn</i> is also a common title for God), and the birds above it who eat
the food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">What is in the
basket, precisely? According to the ESV, ‘all sorts of baked food for Pharaoh’.
And even the interlinear translation does this. But if I’m not mistaken, the
word ‘baked’ does not occur in the sentence: <i>’ofeh</i> is the <i>active</i>
participle of ‘bake’. What the baker carries around in his supreme basket is ‘all
sorts of food for Pharaoh, works of the baker!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">You gotta advertise!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">So we can
sympathise, perhaps, when the cupbearer is restored and the baker is hanged.
The story ends: ‘And the chief cupbearer did not remember Joseph, but forgot
him.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This is why I
love the Old Testament: it always ends badly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Remember.</span></div>
Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-17444368972055405522017-11-28T14:35:00.001+01:002017-11-28T14:36:45.355+01:00Nel Mezzo del Cammin<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">This Sunday we
celebrated the Feast of Christ the King. It was on this feast day that I first
went to Mass, ten years ago now. I remember it, partly because I wrote about
it. When Fr. Paul de Maat in Middelburg raised the chalice, I was ‘profoundly
awed’, and could only think in brief lines from <i>The Anathémata</i> and traditional prayers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Ten years
later, I myself was raising the chalice – the first time in this church that this chalice was used, a chalice that I inherited from a predecessor in faith and in priestly
ministry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">More precariously than he knows he guards the </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">signa<i>…</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Some fragments
from the current time:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Yesterday was
the first meeting of a group intended for thirty- and forty-somethings. It
would not have started without an Italian couple, who have kindly, but regularly
and persistently reminded me that such a group was lacking in our community.
Through an accident of circumstance, it is now called the Panettone group.
Mention was made of an Italian celebrity who could recite passages from the <i>Divina Commedia</i> for hours on end
(without repeating himself, obviously). Hence the title.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">For a reading
group that meets this Thursday, I have started reading a modern book for young
adults, inspired by Dante: <i>Bianca come il
latte, rosso come il sangue</i> (White as milk, red as blood). It is about a normal
16-year-old boy, called Leo (<a href="http://turgonian.blogspot.nl/2016/11/hic-sunt-leones.html">I didn’t make
this up</a>), who likes to play football, grows nervous in silence, and who is deeply
in love with someone called Beatrice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The teachers
have nicknames. The religious education teacher is a celestial priest who is
well-versed in the Bible and whom Leo calls Gandalf. When a girl in class who
is somewhat of a teacher’s pet makes a reference to Gollum, ‘Gandalf’ says, ‘I
don’t know who this Gollum is, but if you say so, I believe it.’ And Leo
reflects inwardly, ‘Gandalf doesn’t know Gollum, it seems absurd, but that’s
how it is.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">This is too
subtle to be merely a joke or an absurdity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">But there are
many subtleties in the book. Leo attends a school named after a character from <i>Mickey Mouse</i>. In English known as
Horace, the Italian name is of course Orazio (‘There are more things between
heaven and earth, Horatio…’)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The new,
young, and enthusiastic philosophy teacher is inspired by a movie called in
Italian <i>L’attimo fuggente</i> (The Fleeting
Moment) but known in English as <i>Dead
Poets Society</i> (wink, wink).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">And in the
same (short) chapter, there is another ‘wink’ moment that even rhymes with this
one:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo <i>in latino significa “leone”. </i>Leo rugiens<i>: “leone ruggente”.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">(<i>Leo</i> in Latin means ‘lion’. <i>Leo rugiens</i>: ‘roaring lion’.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">This time the
author basically spells it out. <i>Leo
rugiens</i> is a phrase from 1 Peter 5, which returns in the prayer of the
Church every Tuesday night at Compline: ‘Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your
adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to
devour. Resist him, firm in your faith.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo does not
seem particularly active in the resistance, but he is not spectacularly failing
either.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">As the title
makes clear, colours are very important in the book. Red and white run through
it as recurring themes. White is associated with silence, emptiness, infinity.
Red is associated with overwhelming impressions, passion, love. ‘Beatrice is
red,’ Leo grandly proclaims. But what he does not know (and what, so far, I
have only gleaned from the summary) is that Beatrice suffers from leukemia: a
Greek word (<i>leukon haima</i>) that means ‘white
blood’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It’s so good
to read truly intelligent young adult novels.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">(Leo also says:
‘Silvia is blue, like all true friends.’ The city of Delft has a big blue heart
in the city centre. I feel quite at home here.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Well, that’s
enough about the book. Today I talked to someone who watched at a deathbed last
week. And now my eye has fallen on the obituaries in the newspaper. I don’t usually
read the paper, but scanning through it, I noticed a couple of things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Firstly, there
are many completely unfamiliar names among the youngest generation. Kayleigh
and Kenza, Vaan and Keet, Vayènn and Lovis – next to the more reassuring Sven
and Rik, Maarten and Tessa, Guus and Dirk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Secondly, it
is a common occurrence for deceased family members to be included in the
obituary. But this is indicated in different ways; I see four in one newspaper.
The traditional cross symbol is one. But another (a child) has a star. One obituary
contains two different ways: a 96-year-old woman has a son with the words ‘(in
loving memory)’ affixed to his name, but her great-grandson has a butterfly
symbol in the same place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Thirdly, there
is another strange symbol that occurs in two different obituaries. Kira, Tessa,
Britt, and Foxy have a dog’s paw after their name. Apparently the pets are so
much part of the family that they are included, mostly in the absence of other
children.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
Dear future nephews
and nieces, I admire how much you care for your pets – but if you will not keep
their dirty paws from defacing my death notice, I am coming back to haunt you.Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-41786550358180668432017-11-26T01:19:00.002+01:002017-11-26T01:20:05.940+01:00Lost in Translations<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">For preparing
my homilies, I tend to use the USCCB website. It has a nice little calendar
that enables you to pick a date and get the Scripture readings for it – a
feature no Dutch website has. But if you rely on it too much, you are in for
some surprises.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">The first
surprise was months ago, on a regular weekday Mass at seminary, the memorial of
Sts. Cyril and Methodius. I had been asked to provide the homily and had duly
read the texts. When I arrived in the chapel, however, I discovered that Cyril
and Methodius had been named co-patrons of Europe and were therefore celebrated
with greater attention on this side of the ocean. That included special Scripture
readings that reflected the missionary lifestyle of these saints.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">So when one of
the students started on the first reading, I had no idea what precisely it was
going to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">Fellow
students told me later that my homily had been bolder and more passionate than
usual.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">The second
surprise was later, on a Sunday in the parish, when the parable of the two sons
was read. A father asks his two sons to work in his vineyard. The first one
says no, but changes his mind. The second one says yes, but does not carry out
the work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">It is
interesting to reflect on the reasons why the second son says yes. Is it
perhaps because he has heard his brother’s reply and wants to be better? Does
he think: I’m the only one left, and if I don’t say yes, no one will?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">These are
attempts to add some dynamics to the story. But it requires some improvising
and back-pedalling when, on reading the Gospel in church, you find out that the
Dutch translation has the <i>first</i> son
saying yes and the <i>second</i> saying no.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">The third surprise
came today, on the feast of Christ the King. The first reading from Ezekiel
includes the following words (God in the figure of a shepherd speaking to His flock):<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">The lost I will seek out,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">the strayed I will bring back,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">the injured I will bind up,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">the sick I will heal,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">but the sleek and the strong I will destroy,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">shepherding them rightly.</span></i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">The theme of
this passage fits well with the theme in the Gospel of Luke that God will have
mercy on the lowly and punish the uncaring rich. There is an idea of separation
(of the good and the bad) that is also expressed in the Gospel reading of the
day, about the sheep and the goats. The ‘right shepherding’ is precisely this,
that the weak are strengthened and the egoists are taken down a notch. And
besides, even in regular shepherding practice, aren’t the healthy and fat animals
chosen for slaughter?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">It is
unsurprising that the passage in Ezekiel continues:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">As for you, my sheep, says the Lord GOD,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">I will judge between one sheep and another,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">between rams and goats.</span></i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">Well, isn’t that
a perfect parallel with the image of the Last Judgment in the Gospel?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">It is, until you
get to the Dutch translation, which goes something like this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">The lost sheep I will seek out,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">the strayed I will bring back,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">the injured I will bind up,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">the sick I will strengthen,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">and the healthy and strong I will continue to
care for.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">I will pasture them as it ought to be.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">And you, my sheep – says the Lord God –<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">I will do justice to the one animal opposite
the other,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">opposite ram and goat.</span></i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">This time,
having grown hoar with age and wary with experience, I discovered the
divergence before it was too late. I understand the connection between ‘judge’
and ‘do justice’. The link between ‘destroy’ and ‘care for’ remains a mystery.
I thought it might be shrouded in Hebrew depths, but according to Strong’s
dictionary, the verb </span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 110%; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HE;">שמד</span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span lang="HE"><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span> </span><span lang="EN-US">has the following meaning:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">to desolate: – destroy, bring to nought,
overthrow, perish, pluck down, X utterly.</span></i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
So I just don’t
know. In any case, this is why I still use the USCCB website, but always
double-check.Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-66640278391851590532017-10-30T12:02:00.001+01:002017-10-30T12:03:03.764+01:00Historian's Irony<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Cardinal
Newman said, ‘To be deep in history is to cease to be Protestant.’ That might
be the case for systematic Protestantism along the lines of the Reformation,
with a strict observance of the solas. It applies less obviously to a
Protestantism that understands itself as a form of developing Christian faith
that happens not to include a strong allegiance to the bishop of Rome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Diarmaid
MacCulloch is deep in history, and he has ceased to be anything in particular.
Nonetheless he looks with understanding and sympathy on the spiritual and
religious quests that have occurred in history and will no doubt continue to
occur.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I am rereading
MacCulloch’s book <i>Reformation: Europe’s
House Divided (1490-1700)</i>, which I first read 10 years ago while I was in
the process of becoming Catholic, and which I am now reading in preparation for
a historical trip to Germany in the footsteps of Martin Luther.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It is striking
how religion and politics interplay, how allegiances and rivalries help to
build consensus, and how people navigate a world with the consciousness of a
last judgment, with a network of relations that has shifting perspectives on
the wheat and the tares, and with the human needs that are basic to us all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">When King
Henri IV of France (formerly King of Navarre) ultimately decided to convert to
the Catholic Church, allegedly on the grounds that ‘Paris was worth a Mass’,
this was the reaction of a prominent Reformer:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<i><span lang="EN-US">Theodore Beza, who all through his long years
in Geneva had corresponded with Navarre, regularly received cash from him and
was devoted to him as a new King David in Israel, was devastated at Henri’s
betrayal of the godly cause. Beza nevertheless remained loyal, and sadly
consoled himself with a different Old Testament image: God’s champion in
Israel, Samson, sacrificed his life to slay his enemies, and now perhaps King
Henri was making an even greater sacrifice of his soul in God’s cause. He also
continued to regard himself as on King Henri’s payroll.</span></i>Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-42729781724016360842017-10-09T00:25:00.002+02:002022-01-27T22:33:13.496+01:00The Vineyard Song Remastered<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Sometimes writing
a homily is difficult. But at rare moments, hints are thrown at you from all
sorts of different places and the homily basically writes itself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">This time it
was the song of the vineyard in Isaiah 5, and the Gospel passage associated
with it, of the wicked tenants who kill the vineyard owner’s son (Matthew 21).
I thought to myself, didn’t Pope Benedict write something about this? He’s
usually pretty good at contextualizing the parables and explaining how Jesus is
inviting the Pharisees to let down their guard and join Him in his new
creation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Indeed the
Pope wrote about this Gospel, <i>and</i> the
Isaiah passage and even Psalm 80 in connection with it. Surprisingly, it can be
found in the chapter on the principal images of the Gospel of John (<i>Jesus of Nazareth I</i>, ch. 8), under the
heading ‘Vine and Wine’. Pope Benedict considers the Isaiah passage
foundational for the vine motif, and writes:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">The Prophet probably sang it in the context of
the Feast of Tabernacles, in the context of the cheerful atmosphere
characteristic of this eight-day feast (cf. Deut 16:14).</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> […]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Everyone knew that “vineyard” was an image for
a bride (cf. Song 2:15, 7:12f.), so they were expecting some entertainment
suited to the festive atmosphere.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Many more
interesting and edifying things were said about the passage, but this information
made me see the whole passage in a different light. So I decided to take out a
Hebrew-English Old Testament and see if I could make some sense of it, despite
the fact that my Hebrew knowledge is sorely limited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The first
thing that stood out was that the song starts out very sing-song-y, which is
recognizable as soon as you can read the Hebrew alphabet:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">’āshīrāh nā līdīdī<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">shīrat dōdī l’kharmō</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Li-di-di</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">, it is as airy and light-hearted as <i>fa-la-la</i>. It means ‘for my beloved / friend’ and
is related to <i>dōdī</i> (‘of
my friend’).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The word is
used twice, for the text continues:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>kerem hāyāh līdīdī<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-US">b’qeren ben-shāmen<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">(‘My beloved / friend had a vineyard’, or more literally ‘A vineyard was there for my friend’: a
possessive dative. And then, ‘On a very fertile hill’. ‘Vineyard’ and ‘hill’
are very similar words: <i>kerem</i> and <i>qeren</i>.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Next I wanted
to know if there was a similar play in the lines ‘He hoped it would yield
grapes. Instead, it yielded wild grapes.’ In this I was disappointed:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">wayqaw la‘asōt ‘an</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">āvīm<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">wayya‘as b’ush</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">īm</span></i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">Yes, it
rhymes, but that is only because <i>-īm</i>
is the regular masculine plural ending. Nothing surprising there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">But wait…what
was it that the man of the winepress was looking for? Grapes? Then why did it
sound like something else? The word </span><i><span lang="EN-GB">‘an</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">āvīm</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> looked strangely familiar, and
would look familiar to any amateur theologian worth three miserable grains of
salt. There are some words that are known even to your average American
Catholic blogger (no offense), and one of them is <i>anawim</i>, the ‘poor’ for whom poverty is a spiritual attitude. ‘Blessed
are the poor in spirit’, the <i>anawim</i>.
And indeed the word is almost identical in spelling to </span><i><span lang="EN-GB">‘an</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">āvīm</span></i><span lang="EN-US">: </span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 110%; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HE;">ענבים</span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span lang="EN-US"><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span>
and </span><span dir="RTL" lang="HE" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 110%; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: HE;">ענוים</span><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span lang="EN-US"><span dir="LTR"></span><span dir="LTR"></span>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">The almost-double
meaning of ‘grapes’ is the first hint of the revelation in verse 7: ‘The
vineyard of the LORD of Hosts is the House of Israel’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">Now I wanted
to know if something similar applied to </span><i><span lang="EN-GB">b’ush</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">īm</span></i><span lang="EN-US">, the ‘wild
grapes’. And while I could not find a similar word, I chanced upon the
commentary in E.W. Bullinger’s <i>Companion
Bible</i>, which told me two things:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">(1) The word </span><i><span lang="EN-GB">b’ush</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US">īm</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> was derived from <i>bashash</i>
[Strong suggests it’s actually <i>ba’ash</i>],
meaning ‘to stink’ – which can easily shade into an aesthetic, ritual, or ethical
judgment (in any language).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">(2) Isaiah 5
is the only place in the Old Testament where <i>qeren</i> is translated ‘hillside’; all the other seventy-five times it
means ‘horn’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">Wait, what?
What did the text say again?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>kerem hāyāh līdīdī<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>b’qeren ben-shāmen<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">‘My best
friend had a “vineyard”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-US">On a really
fertile “horn” ’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">They were expecting some entertainment suited
to the festive atmosphere.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
For more
random wordplay, go and watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydqReeTV_vk">this clip</a>.Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-9938415943493227522017-09-12T03:27:00.002+02:002017-09-12T03:27:24.603+02:00Gas Stations<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Since
purchasing a car some three years ago, my life has been characterized by
increasing mobility. My being on the road has led to a deeper appreciation of
an ubiquitous feature of roads: gas stations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">They are much
more than places to refuel your car. They are small dots on the map of
hospitality and friendly interaction with passing strangers – who for a change
do not pass at 100 or 130 km/h. They are cafés where you can get coffee and restaurants
where you can purchase lunch, cold or hot. They are places of sanitary relief,
of fresh air and stretched legs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">You can count
on them being there, and on them being there for you even if you have never
visited them before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Even the
layout has a comfortable familiarity everywhere. There is a place where you can
get fuel, with lots of space around it to park your car for quick purchases.
And there is also a parking space that can be used for a real driving break.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">They can even function
as inns, these gas stations. Last night before 11pm, when driving from
Roelofarendsveen to Ridderkerk, I felt myself getting tired and stopped at a
gas station between Delft and Rotterdam for a ten-minute nap. But when I opened
my eyes again, it was after 1am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
Although I am very
happy with my new home, now almost finished, I think I could get used to living
in my car, as long as there would be gas stations along the road.Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-45697895943011822062017-07-29T15:09:00.001+02:002017-07-29T15:10:07.062+02:00Schroom<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It’s been a
while, I know. Lent, Easter, and the Ordination all conspired to keep me from
posting; or perhaps it is my fault. In any case I was very glad to see how many
people sacrificed time to come to the Ordination. I was particularly touched by
the presence of some American friends; Youth Choir Faith, which sang a few
hymns at the Mass; and one or two special friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Since then I
have been on holiday, another mountain-hiking holiday in Austria. We stayed for
two nights at a convent of the Canons Regular of the Holy Cross (O.R.C.) and
then continued to a small hotel, more of a guesthouse really, between
Ochsengarten and Kühtai. The guesthouse had its own chapel. It was beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Last night I
was procrastinating. (Are there job offers for procrastination? If it were my
job I would probably delay procrastinating until the last possible moment, and
before that moment I would get so much useful things done!) I opened a magazine
that was lying on the table and found an article by Kees Waaijman, a well-known
Dutch Scripture scholar of the Carmelite order, about <i>schroom</i> – a typically Dutch word connoting a kind of fear that is
more like a reverent hesitation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The article contained
the following quotation from John Cassian (my translation):<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Schroom <i>is filled with attentive affection, not
afraid of blows nor of reproaches, but only of the slightest injury to love,
and it is haunted by a passionate tenderness that saturates all its acting and
speaking, out of concern that the other’s burning love towards it might cool,
however little.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It reminded me
of a favourite phrase of Pope Francis, <i>la
rivoluzione della tenerezza</i>, the ‘revolution of tenderness’. Tenderness is
a word that occurs multiple times in his inaugural homily; there it is
associated with the attitude of St. Joseph. I sensed the revolution in this
quote by the desert father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I also sensed
it in Austria – and here I was reminded of a quote from Charles Williams,
somewhere in his mysterious Arthuriad cycle: a description of an island never
set foot on, the land of the Trinity: ‘<i>each
in turn the Holder and the Held</i>’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">This I
remembered, and after a while it continues:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">…in the land of the Trinity, the land of the
perichoresis,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">of separateness without separation, reality
without rift,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">where the Basis is in the Image, and the Image
in the Gift…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I had to look
for it, and lo and behold, it was from <i>The
Founding of the Company</i>. On rereading I found that this poem is also the
one that contains the exchange between the poet Taliessin and the court fool
Dinadan. Dinadan calls Taliessin ‘lieutenant of God’s new grace’. Taliessin
refuses a title that would make him master over others, but Dinadan lectures
him:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"> …any buyer of souls<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">is bought himself by his purchase; take the
lieutenancy<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">for the sake of the shyness the excellent
absurdity holds.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Shyness is
perhaps not the worst translation of <i>schroom</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The poem ends
as follows:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">The Company throve by love, by increase of
peace,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">by the shyness of saving and being saved in
others –<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">the Christ-taunting and Christ-planting maxim<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<i><span lang="EN-GB">which throughout Logres the excellent absurdity
held.</span></i>Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-10826959380408791572017-01-23T00:43:00.001+01:002017-01-23T00:43:43.519+01:00The Inauguration<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I am happy to
have lived in America. I am even happy that, so far, Chicago is the biggest
American city I have visited, and the rest of my adventure was spent with good
country people. Conservative, and with hearts of gold.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">President
Trump is confusing. Around him, the simplest facts get turned into bitter
debates on social media – for instance, whether or not there were sizable empty
spaces at his inauguration. Those who speak up in the President’s favour often
come across as triumphalistic and shallow. But I also feel a twinge of unease
at the bitterness of his American opponents, or the smugness of their European
cousins. I have no understanding of the actual political issues, but I can
observe how people react to the image of Trump.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Anyhow, I read
his inauguration speech, and thought it was not too bad, as a speech. There
were a few moments, however, when I raised my eyebrows (I don’t have sufficient
muscular control for the lone-eyebrow raise) (and I’m not counting the time
when he mentioned Nebraska, which was sweet of him):<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>You came by the tens
of millions to become part of a historic movement the likes of which the world
has never seen before. At the center of this movement is a crucial conviction:
that a nation exists to serve its citizens.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Too bad the world has
never seen the likes of this movement before. Jerobeam, Socrates, Louis IX, and
Lincoln missed out on quite something! Then again, perhaps Trump was thinking
of a more recent President who unsavourily declared, ‘Ask not what your country
can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.’ (Communism!)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>We must protect our
borders from the ravages of other countries making our products, stealing our
companies, and destroying our jobs.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Making is ravaging!
Products are plunder! Creation is destruction!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>When you open your
heart to patriotism, there is no room for prejudice.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
…if there had been
somebody there to <a href="http://xroads.virginia.edu/~drbr/goodman.html">shoot
you</a> every minute of your life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>We stand at the birth
of a new millennium…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
How long does a
millennium take to be born? We’ve been living in it for over sixteen years!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Other than that, of
course, I attempt to stand ready for the final Trump and the dawn of the Age of
Aquarius.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
So long, and thanks for
all the fish.<br />
<div class="Poetry">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-20810622905129687152016-12-30T15:43:00.001+01:002016-12-30T15:44:05.615+01:00The Loved One<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It is a
strange coincidence that I read Evelyn Waugh’s <i>The Loved One</i> shortly
after my first experience with leading funerals. <i>The Loved One</i> is a book
about, well, funerals, or more precisely, the funeral industry. To an extent,
it is a book about religion, or the lack thereof. It is a tragedy, which like
all good tragedies looks like it’s going to end well, until the fateful moment
of <i>anagnōrisis</i> when everything suddenly comes crashing down with
calculated precision.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">A friend of
mine once said that Waugh was a misanthropist, and after reading <i>The Loved
One</i>, I am inclined to agree. Not that he isn’t funny. His comments on the
differences between Americans and Europeans are very flattering to Europeans.
And his satirical approach to individualistic secular rituals is very
gratifying to Catholics. So, as a European Catholic, I enjoyed the book
immensely…until the end, which still makes me angry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">At the
beginning of the book we meet Francis and his nephew Dennis. Dennis, a poet out
of work, has just accepted a new job. Although his new line of work raises some
eyebrows among his fellow British residents in California, he seems qualified
enough. As he says, ‘<i>The man they had before caused offence by his gusto.
They find me reverent. It is my combination of melancholy with the English
accent.</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">As it turns
out, his employer is the Happier Hunting Ground, a company that arranges
funerals for pets. Somewhat like this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">‘I have a
brochure here setting out our service. Were you thinking of interment or
incineration?’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">‘Pardon
me?’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">‘Buried or
burned?’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">‘Burned, I
guess.’</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> …<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">‘And the
religious rites? We have a pastor who is always pleased to assist.’</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> …<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">‘Mr Barlow,
we’re neither of us what you might call very church-going people, but I think
on an occasion like this Mrs Heinkel would want all the comfort you can offer.’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">‘Our Grade
A service includes several unique features. At the moment of committal, a white
dove, symbolizing the deceased’s soul, is liberated over the crematorium.’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">‘Yes,’ said
Mr Heinkel, ‘I reckon Mrs Heinkel would appreciate the dove.’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">‘And every
anniversary a card of remembrance is mailed without further charge. It reads:
“Your little Arthur is thinking of you in heaven today and wagging his tail.”’</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">His uncle
Francis, however, is not doing so well. Chief script-writer in Megalopolitan
Pictures (<i>hē polis hē megalē</i>, ‘the great city’, is a name used multiple
times in the Apocalypse that rarely bodes well), at one time he goes to his
office and finds it occupied. Apparently he has been fired, and, driven by
despair, he commits suicide.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">That is the set-up
that brings Dennis to the awe-inspiring burial grounds of Whispering Glades, of
which his own Happier Hunting Ground is only an imitation (or, as the stern
people at Whispering Glades would say, a parody).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Whispering
Glades has been conceived by an artist known as the Dreamer. A huge marble
inscription at the entrance indicates that its purpose is to bring maximum
happiness to the Waiting Ones and to provide a happy resting place for the
Loved Ones, a euphemism for those who have passed away. Next to the marble
block is a wooden signboard with the text, ‘<i>Prices on inquiry at
Administrative Building.</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">As Dennis
enters through a florist’s shop, he hears a woman saying on the telephone, ‘<i>I’m
really sorry but it’s just one of the things that Whispering Glades does not
do. The Dreamer does not approve of wreaths or crosses. We just arrange the
flowers in their own natural beauty.</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It is clear
that Whispering Glades offers all the comforts of religion but experiences
sharp discomfort with the idea of revelation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It is at
Whispering Glades that Dennis meets Aimée Thanatogenos (‘Loved One Born to
Death’, of course). She is one of the cosmeticians whose job it is to make the
dead look presentable. The author says some rude things about American women in
general before describing Aimée as above average, indeed ‘decadent’:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Her hair
was dark and straight, her brows wide, her skin transparent and untarnished by
sun. Her lips were artificially tinctured, no doubt, but not coated like her
sisters’ and clogged in all their delicate pores with crimson grease; they
seemed to promise instead an unmeasured range of sensual converse. Her full
face was oval, her profile pure and classical and light. Her eyes greenish and
remote, with a rich glint of lunacy.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
As the book progresses,
an absurd but endearing love triangle unfolds between<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
1) Dennis, the cynical
European imitator of beautiful things;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
2) Aimée, the idealistic
young woman, who writes frequent letters to the local newspaper’s Guru Brahmin
at this critical time of her life; and<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
3) her great hero and
example, true artist cosmetician of Whispering Glades, beautifier of the dead,
austere and serene: Mr Joyboy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
The third party has not
been mentioned yet, but he definitely has an eye on Aimée, and the feeling is
mutual:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>‘When I am working for
you there’s something inside me says “He’s on his way to Miss Thanatogenos” and
my fingers just seem to take control. Haven’t you noticed it?’<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>‘Well, Mr Joyboy, I
did remark it only last week. “All the Loved Ones that come from Mr Joyboy
lately,” I said, “have the most beautiful smiles.”’<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>‘All for you, Miss
Thanatogenos.’</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
In one sense, that makes
Aimée very lucky, as Mr Joyboy is a legend among the cosmetic staff:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>As he passed among
them, like an art-master among his students, with a word of correction here or
commendation there, sometimes laying his gentle hand on a living shoulder or a
dead haunch, he was a figure of romance, a cult shared by all in common, not a
prize to be appropriated by any one of them.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
However, against her own
will, Aimée falls in love with Dennis, who says all sorts of irreverent things
that scandalize and infuriate her, even as they secretly attract her. And he
also pretends to write poems for her – poems which he steals from famous
historical European poets, with varying degrees of success. But his ploys are
insufficient. So when he meets the non-sectarian pastor at the Happier Hunting
Ground, he asks him about the prerequisites for becoming a non-sectarian
pastor. It turns out there are only three: the Call, money, and an audience.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Will Dennis succeed? Read
the book and find out!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
As the year approaches
its end, I will finish this blogpost with a properly meditative quote from the
non-sectarian pastor of the Happier Hunting Ground.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<i>Dog that is born of
bitch hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and
is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth
in one stay…</i>Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-59991353469985726102016-11-10T13:53:00.001+01:002016-11-10T13:55:46.633+01:00Hic Sunt Leones<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Today is the
memorial of St. Leo the Great. I have long defended that it’s time for a new
Pope to adopt the name Leo again. There’s not been seen a Leo in these parts
for over a hundred years, and some Popes with the name have done great things.
Of course, there was also an infamous Leo who is chiefly known for his
inadequate response to a Augustinian priest somewhere in the Electorate of
Saxony.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Out of
curiosity, I have looked more closely into the thirteen Popes who adopted the
name Leo, with an overview of their role in history. It is an interesting
journey through time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo I
(440-461): called ‘the Great’, this Pope was both a theologian and a protector
of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQYN2P3E06s">civilization</a>. He
wrote the <i>Tomus Leonis</i> (‘Tome of Leo’), a book which explained the
relationship between the divine and human natures of Jesus Christ. This was
sent to the Council of Chalcedon (451), where the assembly of bishops greeted
it with the chorus, ‘Peter has spoken through Leo!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">As patriarch
of the West, he insisted on his own authority over the churches of Gaul,
bringing about greater unity with Rome. He also made it clear that the Pope had
been entrusted with the care for all churches in the world, writing to an
Eastern bishop, ‘The care of the universal Church should converge towards
Peter's one seat, and nothing anywhere should be separated from its Head.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo also
increased political unity in Gaul by mediating a dispute between the two highest
officials in Gaul. One of those officials was Aëtius, first the friend and
later the rival of Attila the Hun, who lived in Rome as a young man. It was
that time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">In 452, Attila
headed towards Rome, burning cities along the way. Leo rode out to northern
Italy to talk to him at Lake Garda, as a consequence of which Attila halted his
march and went elsewhere. Or so the story has always gone; Raphael even made a <a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fa/Leoattila-Raphael.jpg">painting</a>
about it. It was a bit of a disappointment to read that Leo was only one of
three imperial envoys.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">For the
literature lovers among us: Leo had a good ear for the sound of words, and his
prose style (the <i>cursus leonicus</i>) had a long-lasting influence on
ecclesiastical Latin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo II
(682-683): in his time, the Eastern Roman Empire had a lot of influence in
papal elections. He was from Sicily, which was Byzantine territory. There were
many Sicilian refugees in Rome, because the island suffered attacks from the
Islamic Caliphate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">During his
brief reign, he gave official approval to a Church council (Constantinople
III).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">In light of
Leo I’s battle for papal authority, it is ironic that a quote from Leo II has
provided an argument against papal infallibility. Leo II condemned Pope
Honorius, who reigned half a century earlier, for being lax in the fight
against heresy; in doing so, he described Honorius as ‘one who by unholy
betrayal has tried to overthrow the unspoiled faith’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo III
(795-816): the Pope who on Christmas Day in the year 800 crowned Charlemagne,
the first Emperor in the West after the downfall of the Empire three hundred
years earlier. (Raphael <a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/ea/Raffaello_Sanzio_-_The_Coronation_of_Charlemagne_-_WGA18761.jpg">painted</a>
the scene.) Charlemagne was convinced that it was his own duty to defend the
Church, and that the Pope should pray for the safety and victory of the Empire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">As Leo I was
active in Gaul, Leo III interfered in England – among other things, the home of
the scholar Alcuin, whose intelligence and knowledge were invaluable to the
school that Charlemagne started at his court. This school created a cultural
unity in Europe that endured long after the Carolingian emperors dwindled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">As far as I am
concerned, Leo III could be made a patron of ecumenical dialogue. When
Charlemagne insisted that he should add the <i>Filioque</i> to the Nicene
Creed, Leo refused; not because he disagreed, but because he was unwilling to
change the profession of faith that Christians of the East and the West prayed
in the liturgy. Not only did he refuse, but he gave the order to write the
unchanged Creed on tablets of silver and display them outside St. Peter’s
Basilica – a clear ‘in-your-face’ to his friend the Emperor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo IV
(847-855): a man whose reign was defined by the fight with the Arabs. These
were not distant threats: a year before Leo’s ascension to the papal throne,
Saracens invaded Rome and damaged the churches of St. Peter and St. Paul. Leo took
the repairs in hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">He also
organized a naval league of ships from Naples, Gaeta and Amalfi, who defeated
the Muslim pirates at the Battle of Ostia in 849. (Raphael <a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/15/Raphael_Ostia.jpg">painted
this</a>, too.) Just as a reminder: Ostia is the harbour where Augustine and
Monica talked half a millennium earlier, in preparation for a voyage back to
their home in North Africa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The captives
from the Battle of Ostia helped to build the protective Leonine Wall around
Vatican Hill, of which a part still stands today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo V (903): he
became Pope a year after the completion of the Muslim conquest of Sicily. But
he had enemies closer to home. He reigned for two months, and his chief feat is
a tax exemption for the canons of Bologna.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">After that, a
cardinal named Christopher proclaimed himself Pope and threw Leo into prison.
It is likely that both were killed in 904 by the next Pope, Sergius III. Thus
began the <i>saeculum obscurum</i>, also known as the ‘Rule of the Harlots’: a
period in which the papacy was regarded as a source of income and military
strength, over which Italian aristocratic families were fighting like dogs over
a bone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo VI (928):
a Pope who was chosen by the <i>senatrix</i> Marozia, formerly the mistress of
Sergius III. Leo’s immediate predecessor had been imprisoned and killed by
Marozia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">He does not
seem to have been a very bad Pope, mostly concerning himself with the
ecclesiastical situation in Dalmatia (in the modern-day Balkan). He also forbade
castrates from marrying and sent out a plea for help against Arab raiders. It
looks like he died a natural death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo VII
(936-939): also chosen by the temporal ruler of Rome. He was possibly a
Benedictine and gave many privileges to monasteries, especially Cluny. He also
asked them to mediate in disputes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo VIII
(964-965): was an antipope before he legitimately became Pope. He was an
important official at the court of Pope John XII and served as an ambassador to
Emperor Otto I. The two were engaged in a struggle about the Papal States.
Ironically, when Leo was sent on his mission to Otto, the Emperor was just
besieging the Italian king in his Castle of St. Leo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Otto marched
on Rome; John fled; Otto appointed Leo to the papacy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Otto left; the
Romans rebelled; Leo fled to Otto; another Pope (Benedict) was elected.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Otto came
back; Pope Benedict’s staff was broken; Leo was installed again. He spent his
papacy conferring favours on the Emperor. This was the end of the <i>saeculum
obscurum</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo IX
(1049-1054): a German Pope, and a saint. He promoted the order of Cluny. After
being elected Pope by the Emperor and Roman delegates, he insisted on being
officially elected by the clergy and people of Rome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">He reinforced
the practice of celibacy and fought against simony (the sale of important
positions in the Church). He was also involved in a dispute about Eucharistic
theology. It’s good to see the Popes returning to their original calling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">At the time
the Byzantines held southern Italy, but they were under attack from the
Normans. They asked the Pope for military intervention, thinking that the
Normans would be reluctant to fight the Pope. So they were, but they still
soundly thrashed the papal forces at the Battle of Civitate (no, Raphael didn’t
paint this). After his defeat, Leo went out to the Normans and was received
with reverence, even though he was also taken as a captive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Unfortunately,
Leo IX helped set in motion the events that would lead to the great schism of
East and West. He quoted (in good faith) a forged letter, supposed to be from
Constantine, who had purportedly given authority over the Western Roman Empire
to the Pope. This was not accepted in the East, and the impatience of Leo’s
legate led to the mutual excommunications of 1054. Leo himself had died shortly
before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo X
(1513-1521): this one also lived at a time of great schism. This time it was
the Reformation, which broke out in 1517. The Ecumenical Council held under
Leo’s watch (Lateran V) encouraged reform of the Church, but was not well implemented.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo was
cheerful, with a pleasant voice and an intellectual sense of humour. He was a
patron of the arts (and a big spender), and commissioned Raphael to paint the
Vatican <i>stanze</i>. He was involved with the university, with literature,
music and antiquities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">He was also
the last Pope who was not a priest at the time of his election to the papacy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Because he
wanted to increase his nephew’s political prestige, he joined Spain and England
in a war with France. This was disastrous for the papal treasury and soured the
relationship between the Pope and the College of Cardinals, which tried to
poison Leo. He used the situation to his advantage by executing one Cardinal
and nominating thirty-one of his own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Feeling
threatened by the Ottoman sultan, Selim I, Leo tried to organize a truce
throughout Western Christianity for the sake of a crusade. This was in 1517. It
was a valiant attempt, but it failed, and the religious turmoil that would soon
break out made such a peace impossible forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">In the movie <i>Luther</i>
he is depicted as strict and cruel, but the picture I get is that he would be a
great conversation partner for dinner (as long as you wouldn’t try to poison
him).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo XI (1605):
nephew of Leo X, from the Medici family. He reigned less than a month. He felt
an early vocation to the priesthood, but his mother would hear nothing of it.
He became a courtier, was knighted and struck up a friendship with a man twenty
years his senior: Philip Neri (later canonized).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">After his
mother’s death he became a priest, then bishop and cardinal. He fulfilled a
diplomatic position in France. Because he was popular with the French
cardinals, he was elected Pope rather than Robert Bellarmine (also later
canonized). But he was already 70, and the inaugural ceremony wearied him so
much that he died within a month. That’s why they called him <i>Papa Lampo</i>,
‘Lightning Pope’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo XII
(1823-1829): as an indication of how much times can change, this Leo was the
only Pope in his century with a Cardinal for a nephew. Like Leo XI, Leo XII
also had experience in a diplomatic position, namely in Switzerland. During his
lifetime, Napoleon abolished the Papal States, at which the future Leo secluded
himself in an abbey for a few years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">He was
conservative in his outlook and did not want to make any compromises with the
new revolutionary order. Against French opposition, he was elected Pope, having
served the preceding Pope as vicar-general. Because he was physically
unhealthy, he had argued against his own election, but to no avail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">He lived
frugally and tried to soften the financial strain on the inhabitants of the
Papal States (reestablished in 1814) by reducing taxes and other measures. It
did little good for the internal economy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo’s conservatism
fueled his attempts to get everything in the Papal States under direct Church
control, such as schools (where he made Latin the obligatory language) and
charitable institutions. Jews were not allowed to own property under his watch,
and all residents of Rome were required to listen to expositions on the
catechism, whether they were Catholic or not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo XIII
(1878-1903): the oldest Pope (died at 93) with the third longest pontificate.
The first Pope who ascended the Holy See after the Papal States had been
definitively abolished by Victor Emmanuel II. It took a while before the Popes
could accept this, and so Leo lived in the uneasy time when the Pope considered
himself to be ‘prisoner of the Vatican’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">He made great
contributions in the realm of theology. With his encyclical <i>Aeterni Patris</i>,
he gave a new impulse to the study of St. Thomas Aquinas, making it normative
for seminaries as well as Catholic universities. The importance of Scripture
for theology, too, was underscored in <i>Providentissimus Deus</i>. Leo was
open to Eastern Christians and wanted to protect their rites, preventing the
‘latinization’ of Eastern Catholics. He also had a strong devotion to the
Virgin Mary and was known as the ‘Rosary Pope’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Of course, he
is also (in a sense) the founder of Catholic social teaching, the first Pope to
devote an encyclical to social inequality: <i>Rerum novarum</i>. This tried to
sketch a middle road between capitalism and communism. Later Popes wrote new
and ‘updated’ social encyclicals on various anniversaries of <i>Rerum novarum</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">He was the
Pope with whom St. Therese of Lisieux had a brief audience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Leo XIII rests
in the Basilica of St. John in Lateran, whose dedication we celebrated
yesterday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">To conclude,
it is said in an Eastern <i>kontakion</i> to St. Leo the Great:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>Seated upon the throne
of the priesthood, glorious Leo,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<i>you shut the mouths of
the spiritual lions.</i>Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-76590107368935149742016-10-26T11:07:00.001+02:002016-10-26T15:19:07.952+02:00Magdalena<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Magdalena</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> is a book about a woman; more
particularly, the author’s mother. The author is Maarten ’t Hart, a famous
Dutch author, born in Maassluis in 1944. He was raised in a strongly religious
Reformed environment, but lost his faith early in life and became an atheist.
He is also a biologist and a lover of classical music.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Unlike Richard
Dawkins, Maarten ’t Hart is not given to writing polemical treatises. Many of
his works are fragments of memory. Yet he rarely mentioned his mother in other
books, because she had asked him not to write about her until her death, which
eventually came to pass in 2012.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The author is
a subtle painter of portraits. One cannot help feeling a mixture of affection
and dismay at many people who feature in <i>Magdalena</i>; most strongly
towards the mother herself. Concerned about the well-being of her children
(especially the spiritual well-being), but with limited knowledge and
interests, and plagued by the recurring delusion that her husband is seeing
other women (which leads to frequent bitter tears and recriminations), she is a
cathartic character, inspiring pity and fear in equal measure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The reader is
as surprised as the author to discover, after many pages or many years, that
young Magdalena shared her bed with one of her father’s servants for multiple
years, in utter secrecy but also in complete chastity. Somehow it fits and is
quite credible, but not less surprising for that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The book
contains polemical passages against the strict Biblical faith of the author’s
youth, sometimes interwoven with the memories. I found it particularly
fascinating to read how fourteen-year-old Maarten goes to the harbour to find
out how long it takes to get an animal aboard a ship, and then calculates how
much time it would have taken to get all two million animal species aboard
Noah’s ark – not in order to disprove anything, but out of genuine teenage
curiosity. He finds out that the time required amounts to almost three years,
which does not correspond to Genesis 7:10, ‘<i>And after seven days the waters
of the flood came upon the earth.</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">His mother
(who seems to have had no sense of humour and even less of the absurd – a
defect compensated by her son) used to tell him that he should not trouble his
head about the Bible, but simply believe like a child. ‘I am a child,’ Maarten
would tell her, ‘but I don’t believe like a child.’ And his mother would reply,
‘It’ll come to you when you’re older, then it will be easier for you to believe
like a child.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">That it is
possible to interpret the Bible differently is not an idea that occurs anywhere
in <i>Magdalena</i>; the ‘take it or leave it’ mentality is too strong. [Edit: except perhaps for a passing encounter with a female Protestant preacher, who however offers little of substance.] Catholics
are briefly mentioned twice and associated with child abuse both times – for
instance in this passage (clunky translation mine):<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">There I
stood, on that deathly silent square next to the train station. The bell of the
Great Church was tolling, the clock of the Immanuel Church was tolling, the
clock of the Christian Reformed Church was tolling, and I also heard many other
ways of tolling. I even seemed to perceive shrill, pedophiliac Papist tolling.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">One can hardly
deny the pleasantness of the style. It is strange that someone with so many
literary gifts should really consider the following argument compelling
(although it is not quite clear whether the author still believes in its force,
or whether this was a teenage meditation):<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Strange,
really, that Jesus says that, if you do not accept Him as your Redeemer, you
should count on it that after your death you will wail in the outer darkness
and gnash your teeth. When you die, and end up in the coffin, your teeth will
be there as well. Often those are more or less the last bits of a human that
they find after years, so in the outer darkness you will not have any teeth
available to gnash with, nor a set of false teeth either.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The book is
still quite worth reading, because of the strange real people in it, much
stranger than superficial ‘weirdness’. The ending, however, is an anticlimax:
it describes the mother’s funeral. The strange circumstances of her death are
described with attention and dignity, but the funeral is hardly anything more
than a highly negative commentary on the Apostles’ Creed and the Lord’s Prayer.
The body may be interred, but it seems that the author is still trying to drown
out the sound of his mother’s teeth gnashing over his unchildlike unbelief.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
Some of
Maarten’s questions, in a modified form, are mine as well. Today I start
reading for my studies in fundamental theology, about the theme of divine revelation.
Two books have been suggested to me: <i>Models of Revelation</i>, by Avery
(Cardinal) Dulles, and <i>Divine Discourse</i>, by Nicholas Wolterstorff. So
now I am going to start reading the former, against a musical background of
Johannes Ockeghem – the <i>Missa ‘De Plus en Plus’</i> and the <i>Credo ‘De
Village’</i>.Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-89938545826183709482016-09-22T17:00:00.001+02:002016-09-22T17:00:36.781+02:00To Cuiviénen ...<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Cuiviénen is
(or was) a lake, a ‘<i>starlit mere</i>’, in a forgotten corner of Middle-earth
– forgotten because none of the action of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> takes
place there. Its name is derived from <i>cuivië</i> (‘awakening’ or
occasionally ‘life’) and <i>nen</i> (‘water’).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It is the
place where the Elves wake up. Consciousness stirs in them; they open their
eyes and see the stars, the only light present in Middle-earth at that moment.
And while they look on those lights, they hear ‘<i>the sound of water flowing,
and the sound of water falling over stone</i>’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Ted Nasmith
has made a lovely <a href="http://tednasmith.poverellomedia.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/TN-At_Lake_Cuivienen.jpg">illustration</a>
of the scene.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">In a casual
aside in the middle of the description, there is this – to me one of the most
heart-wrenching passages in the <i>Quenta Silmarillion</i>:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">In the
changes of the world the shapes of lands and of seas have been broken and
remade; rivers have not kept their courses, neither have mountains remained
steadfast; and to Cuiviénen there is no returning.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Some of the
best stories involve a return; the return to one’s place of birth or old school,
or a meeting with an old friend; the comfort of seeing that some things stay
the same, the discovery of how you yourself have changed, but also the
sweetness of the memory that only the place itself can recall. (For Dutch
readers: someone had this experience recently while <a href="http://www.pietkoek.nl/?p=4622">visiting our house</a>.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">All this is
denied to the Elves. To Cuiviénen there is no returning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I was invited
recently to come to an open evening of the Navigators Student Union, a Christian
movement that aims to train Christians ‘to know Christ and to make Him known’.
It started its ministry to university students at the University of Nebraska,
and opened its first Dutch chapter in Delft.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The person who
had invited me was temporarily absent, so I knew no one there, but I was
cordially invited to come over with one subgroup to the Bible study. A kind
student lent me his bike and I accompanied the others through the city to a
private room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">During the
informal chatting prior to the Bible study, the two other new people asked me
what I studied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">‘I just
finished my Theology studies,’ I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">‘How old are
you?’ one of them asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">‘Twenty-six,’
I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">‘You’re old,’
he deduced.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">‘How old are you?’
I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">He turned out
to be seventeen – younger than my brother who is already 7 years younger than I
am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">In the course
of the conversation, I became uncomfortably aware that I was indeed old. There
was a time when I could simply go to meetings like these and present myself as
an interested student. But I am no longer a student.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I remember
Bible studies from my student years, when I would wait for questions, think
about them seriously, and give the best answer I could give (with a strong
readiness to debate opponents). Now, I was constantly aware of group dynamics,
thinking about the intention behind the questions that were asked, and biting
my tongue to refrain from giving all-too-complete answers that would kill
thought rather than stimulate it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The
17-year-old had a vaguely Christian background; he was intelligent and curious,
but he did not know what theology was or where the book of Genesis could be
found in the Bible. So I did my very best to come across as just another guest
(which I was), not as a teacher, even if I was a bit grey around the temples.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It was a good
and open conversation, a bit awkward at times, but Bible studies tend to be
that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Still, it was
unsettling to sit there, feeling all the time that I was <i>too old</i> for a
student group. When did that happen? Was I not irresponsible and free enough to
pass for a student? Not filled with grand impractical thoughts, overconfidently
expressed theories, shadowy dreams about the future, the urge to know
everything about things that were interesting, a serious pretense of
seriousness, and a strange docility?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">On Saturday, I
will go on retreat. One week later, I will be ordained. From that day I will
walk around in Delft as a minister (Latin for <i>diakonos</i>) of the Church. It
still seems light years away. But when it happens, nine centuries from today,
what other things will I be <i>too old</i> for?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">To Cuiviénen
there is no returning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">But from
Cuiviénen there is a road to walk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Though the
beauty of the Quendi in the days of their youth was beyond all other beauty
that Ilúvatar has caused to be, it has not perished, but lives in the West, and
sorrow and wisdom have enriched it. And Oromë loved the Quendi, and named them
in their own tongue Eldar, the people of the stars; but that name was after
borne only by those who followed him upon the westward road.</span></i>Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-50133874650895083262016-08-06T11:40:00.003+02:002016-08-06T11:40:32.960+02:00Vows<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">With the
diaconate ordination approaching, I have taken time to look at the liturgy,
including the questions to which the candidate is expected to answer ‘I am’. I
had always understood that this was the moment at which the candidate took vows
of celibacy and obedience. This is true, in a way. Yet the wording of the
questions surprised me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">To me a vow is
a solemn promise to do something or abstain from something. No doubt this is
the intention behind the questions (an intention which I take seriously!). But
what is literally asked is, ‘Are you willing?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">That is all –
the will in the moment which is expected to endure, and which the candidate is
expected to protect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">In the Gospel
of Luke, Jesus’ long journey towards Jerusalem begins with the sentence, <i>autos
to prosōpon estērisen tou poreuesthai eis Hierousalēm</i> – ‘He fixed his face
to go to Jerusalem’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
Incidentally, <i>prosōpon</i>
means not only ‘face’ but also ‘person’.Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-4580103332879002302016-06-27T11:54:00.001+02:002016-06-27T11:54:52.238+02:00In Parenthesis<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">There are
pitfalls in doing what I do. One of them is the tendency to prose. The
religious illiteracy and malpractice of our days has made of the collared caste
patient explainers – ‘now we do this’, ‘this symbolizes that’. We are caught in
a decaying ritual system which we are feebly trying to reanimate with more
words and yet more words. We do not push down deep; we are afraid of breaking
ribs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">And so I took
time for poetry this morning: <i>In Parenthesis</i>, by David Jones. Years ago
I read another work of his, which my father bought for me second-hand from an
online antiquarian – <i>The Anathémata</i>. Fragments from that poem shot
through my head when I attended my first Mass on the feast of Christ the King.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">In
Parenthesis</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> conveys
the experiences of being a young soldier in the First World War. Well, one set
of experiences, selected and stylized, but not necessarily polished. It comes
with a recommendation from T.S. Eliot, who tells us, ‘As for the writer
himself, he is a Londoner of Welsh and English descent. He is decidedly a
Briton. He is also a Roman Catholic, and he is a painter who has painted some
beautiful pictures and designed some beautiful lettering. All these facts about
him are important.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">One of the
fascinating things about Jones is that he does not seek to make himself
intelligible. He writes free verse, often in paragraphs rather than lines, in various
carefully controlled registers of sophistication. His vocabulary is phenomenal,
and once in a while he will throw in a Welsh name or term. (I have looked up a
table of Welsh pronunciation once or twice, but I keep forgetting.) But <i>legato</i>
and <i>staccato</i>, with short military barks and with unfolding sentences
containing compound adjectives, he conveys an atmosphere even if the meaning of
the words is not always clear. At times distant, at times uncomfortably close,
but never chatty and trivializing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The
brotherhood and camaraderie of the young men, not thinking of death, is
unspoken, pervasive, and recognizable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It is a book
to be read slowly and out loud, not grasped but savoured.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Four fragments.
First, an example of echo and reflection:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">When you’re
ready No. 7—sling those rifles—move them on sergeant, remain two-deep on the
road—we join 5, 6 and 8 at the corner—don’t close up—keep your distance from
No. 6—be careful not to close up—take heed those leading files—not to close on
No. 6—you’re quite ready? —very good.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Move on . .
. move ’em on.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Get on . .
. we’re not too early.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Informal
directness buttressed the static forms—ritual words made newly real.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">The
immediate, the nowness, the pressure of sudden, modifying circumstance—and
retribution following swift on disregard; some certain, malignant opposing,
brought intelligibility and effectiveness to the used formulae of command; the
liturgy of their going-up assumed a primitive creativeness, an apostolic
actuality, a correspondence with the object, a flexibility.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The mechanics
and reveries of marching, with hints of Anglo-Saxon poetic forms:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">So they
would go a long while in solid dark, nor moon, nor battery, dispelled.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Feet
plodding in each other’s unseen tread. They said no word but to direct their
immediate next coming, so close behind to blunder, toe by heel tripping,
file-mates; blind on-following, moving with a singular identity.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Half-minds,
far away, divergent, own-thought thinking, tucked away unknown thoughts; feet
following file friends, each his own thought-maze alone treading; intricate,
twist about, own thoughts, all unknown thoughts, to the next so close following
on.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">With practice
comes theory:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">They were
given lectures on very wet days in the barn, with its great roof, sprung,
upreaching, humane, and redolent of a vanished order. Lectures on military
tactics that would be more or less commonly understood. Lectures on hygiene by
the medical officer, who was popular, who glossed his technical discourses with
every lewdness, whose heroism and humanity reached toward sanctity.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">And lastly, my
hands-down favourite description of waking up:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Reveille at
4.30 with its sleepy stretching and heavy irksome return of consciousness – the
letting in of the beginnings of morning, an icy filtering through, with the
drawing back of bolts; creeping into frowsy dank recesses, a gusty-cool,
wisping the littered surface of body-steaming hay. The gulped-down tea, the
distribution of eked-out bacon, the wiping dry of mess-tins with straw—they
must carry this day’s bread. The score of last-minute scamperings and
searchings for things mislaid and the sudden heart thump at small things of
importance remembered too late—no use now—leave the bloody thing.</span></i>Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-10050911264281057592016-05-24T01:01:00.002+02:002016-05-24T01:01:27.994+02:00Too Old For This ...<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Last week, I
found something light to read during mealtimes – <i>The Gospel according to
Tolkien</i> by Ralph C. Wood, an attempt to shed light on (Catholic) Christian
themes in Tolkien’s work. It contains many glimpses of insight and interesting
facts. On occasion it irritates. It is meant to be ‘<i>not a scholarly study so
much as a theological meditation</i>’, and few meditations (my own emphatically
included) entirely escape the self-indulgence of the pulpit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">For instance,
the overuse of adverbs to mask tautology:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Tolkien’s
providentially ordered cosmos is immensely varied and complex. Its unity is not
dully monolithic but interestingly differentiated.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Dramatic
eulogies to placate Heideggerians:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">By giving
special qualities and powers to each of these beings, Tolkien reveals the
wondrous particularity and divine givenness of many things that we take for
granted.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Confident
references to Scripture with dubious use of the superlative and comparative:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Yet it is
the voices of Job and Isaiah whose cadences and sentiments resound most clearly
in Tolkien’s tragic sense of our human mortality.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> [two quotes]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">More
pertinent still for understanding Tolkien’s sense of the world’s melancholy is
the book of Ecclesiastes.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Equating
ancient and modern worldviews under the heading of Latinate adjectives,
possibly invented for the purpose:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Our
Scandinavian and Teutonic forebears were thus mortalists: they believed that
Ragnarok would mean the final destruction even of heaven and hell. So are most
modern men and women mortalists also – except that the ancient Ragnarok has
been replaced with the contemporary dread of terrorist attacks and nuclear
strikes.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Conspiratorially
restricting the intended audience:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Our
Scandinavian and Teutonic forebears …</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The strident
denunciation, on one page, of two contemporary evils in apparent contradiction
with each other:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">The hobbits
are unabashed lovers of food, enjoying six meals a day. Not for them our
late-modern and quasi-gnostic obsession with slimness. …<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">The
hobbits’ physique reveals this same paradox that greatness may be found in
smallness. Tolkien makes them diminutive creatures in order to challenge our
obsession with largeness.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Clumsy
rationalizing explanations of characters’ natural actions:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Most often
the hobbits sing for joy rather than consolation, for in their singing they
break into a transcendent realm beyond their own small world.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Trying to
clarify Tolkien’s views and making him sound like a nutcase in the process:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Tolkien
believed that he had not </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">devised<i> his magnificent mythical world so much as he had </i>found<i>
it – indeed, that it had been revealed to him by God.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">You might
think that this is a very negative review. So it is, but only because I have
chosen to be mean and curmudgeonly. I could just as easily pick out a number of
passages that taught me something new or helped me to make new connections. But
I have had two thesis advisors (one agnostic, one Catholic) of a very
analytical nature; they believed that if an argument was worth making, it was
worth making soberly and with the caution that the subject required. Their love
for literature did not suffer because of it; but their compassion was sharp as
they bent over the enigma of the fever chart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">It was one
particular passage in Wood’s work, at the very beginning, that got my
particular attention. He tries to defend Tolkien against the charge of being a
male chauvinist, on the grounds that there are hardly any women in his work and
that these are depicted in an idealized way. Wood argues:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Tolkien’s
women are not plaster figures. Galadriel the elven princess proves to be
terrible in her beauty – not treacly sweet and falsely pure; in fact, she is an
elf whose importance will diminish once the Ruling Ring is destroyed. So is
Éowyn a woman of extraordinary courage and valor, a warrior who can hardly be
called a shrinking violet or simpering coquette. Though we see but little of
Arwen … there is nothing saccharine about her character.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">This is a weak
defence, because it assumes that there is only one way to idealize women,
namely by making them weak-minded and naïve. But a woman ‘terrible in her
beauty’ is just as much idealized. Have you ever met someone like that walking
across the street or chatting with her friends? (Well, I have, but then again,
I am an incorrigible idealist.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Although
Wood’s defence is unsatisfactory, I can let Tolkien get away with idealizing
women because his men are also idealized. Middle-earth is an idyll, even if it
is painted in chiaroscuro. It is a place where all vices are intellectual and
spiritual; where great grief exists, but no awkwardness; where indignation is
expressed without a stammer and desire without a hoarse voice. A woman in that
rarefied atmosphere can be terrible in her beauty; in such a world it is
possible that a man and a woman meet and find themselves unable to move a
muscle for a long time, moved as they are by shared astonishment. And this
clarifies something about our own world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">When
idealization occurs in the real world, however, I find it rather chafes my
patience. Another book I am reading is <i>Reclaiming our Priestly Character</i>
by Fr. David Toups, who has merited the title of Doctor in Sacred Theology
(S.T.D.). He argues that priests will lead more stable and happy lives if they
are convinced that the priesthood, once received, can never be lost. So far, so
good. But a passage like this, about the road leading there, makes me uneasy:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Through a
searching discernment, the candidate has sifted out the misleading tugs of
self-interest and the always corrosive distortions with which the spirit of
evil infects the human heart. So purified, the seminarian places before the
Trinity his heart’s desire clarified in the light of the Spirit, so that God
may confirm the decision at hand.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
This is a
beautiful and highly stylized description of a decision-making process that
tells me exactly nothing about what actually happens. At moments like these I
think: I’m getting too old for this …Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-81892874498003401682016-04-23T00:11:00.002+02:002016-04-23T00:12:10.984+02:00Corruption<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Quite some
time ago I happened to find a Conrad novel among the discarded books. It was a
work I had never heard of, <i>Nostromo</i>, not nearly as famous as <i>Heart of
Darkness</i>. An intriguing story, set in the fictional, dysfunctional South
American republic of Costaguana.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">One of the
protagonists of the story, Charles Gould, comes from a British family which has
been established in Costaguana for a while. Born in Costaguana, he has received
his education and married in Britain, as is the custom in his family. During
this period, he receives letters from his father, who is angry and desperate at
having been granted ownership of an abandoned silver mine. The government
expects revenues which Gould senior cannot deliver, so they demand the money
from Gould himself, in the form of fines and other juridical measures. All he
is capable of doing is writing frustrated epistles to his son Charles, exhorting
him never to return.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Charles meets
Emilia in Italy and the two become a couple. The narrator remarks:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Charles
Gould did not open his heart to her in any set speeches. He simply went on
acting and thinking in her sight. This is the true method of sincerity.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Then death
intrudes. Charles receives the news that his father has died, and draws the
conclusion that the anxiety over the silver mine has killed him. (I am
summarizing; the scene in the book, told in a long flashback, is brooding,
foreboding, all silences and eruptions.) At once he comes to the conviction
that his vocation consists of turning the dead, lethal silver mine into a
life-giving thing – an improvement on his father’s helpless attitude.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Action is
consolatory. It is the enemy of thought and the friend of flattering illusions.
Only in the conduct of our action can we find the sense of mastery over the
Fates.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
So Charles
Gould returns to Costaguana with his wife Emilia. And they succeed: the San
Tomé silver mine blooms beyond belief, with financial backing from the US and a
British working ethos among the employees. Several times it is referred to as
an <i>imperium in imperio</i>, a state within a state; its economic strength
gives it a measure of independence from the government. The narrator remarks
about the Goulds:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>It
was as if they had been morally bound to make good their vigorous view of life
against the unnatural error of weariness and despair.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Charles
Gould hopes that the mine will bring prosperity to Costaguana and thus
establish the conditions necessary for law and order to arise. At one point he
explains this to his wife, and ends with the remark:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>‘What
should be perfectly clear to us, is the fact that there is no going back. Where
could we begin life afresh? We are in now for all that there is in us.’<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
However,
because he is such a power in the land, he has to deal with all sorts of
political figures. With corruption being prevalent everywhere, from the
established government to the bandits roaming the wild, it is difficult to do
this without being implicated in the messy affairs of Costaguana. Charles
chooses to go his own way and observe a scornful silence as much as possible.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
At
the beginning of Chapter II.6 we see the couple again. Charles has just started
voicing the threat of blowing up the entire mine, thus sending the country back
into certain chaos. Doña Emilia complains that there is an sense of unreality
about everything:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>‘My
dear Charley, it is impossible for me to close my eyes to our position, to this
awful…’<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>She
raised her eyes and looked at her husband’s face, from which all sign of
sympathy or any other feeling had disappeared. ‘Why don’t you tell me
something?’ she almost wailed.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>‘I
thought you had understood me perfectly from the first,’ Charles Gould said,
slowly. ‘I thought we had said all there was to say a long time ago. There is
nothing to say now. There were things to be done. We have done them, we have
gone on doing them. There is no going back now. I don’t suppose that, even from
the first, there was really any possible way back. And, what’s more, we can’t
even afford to stand still.’</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
This
is how corruption has done its work: eroding the passions, whittling away at
the sincerity of the determination, leaving hollow the decision once taken. Charles
has stopped thinking and acting in Emilia’s sight, which is the true method of
sincerity. Thought is blinkered; it has become instrumental. Action has ceased
to be spontaneous; it follows a predetermined pattern. The mine has succeeded –
but has Charles?<br />
<div class="Poetry">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-45951121704642558972016-03-28T23:55:00.000+02:002016-03-29T01:51:33.013+02:00Light in Darkness<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">For the past
two-and-a-half years, I have been reading <i>Light in Darkness</i> by Alyssa
Lyra Pitstick, intermittently, picking it up and putting it down, probably
forgetting ninety percent of it in the meantime. Anyhow it’s a recommended read
for anyone interested in the 20th-century theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar. I
read his <i>Verbum Caro</i> and enjoyed it; he undoubtedly has many good
insights and writes beautifully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Pitstick,
however, argues that Balthasar is inconsistent at certain points with himself
and with the Catholic tradition. She does so very lucidly; few of her many
words are superfluous. With analytical rigour, she indicates where she thinks
Balthasar goes too far in his poetical theology. In particular, her critique
concentrates itself on his theology of the Descent into Hell, and the
implications it has for our understanding of God as Trinity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Balthasar
understands the Descent as the Son’s being forsaken by the Father and thus
sharing the destiny of sinners, rather than the glorious proclamation of the
Gospel and the liberation of the holy dead. This interpretation (which is at
least questionable) seems to be rather central to his theology and introduces
divergences everywhere. Pitstick is strict in her evaluation, but probably not
unjust.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">One of Balthasar’s
contentions is that the Persons of the Trinity continue to surprise each other
for eternity. Given that the divine life is active and desirable beyond all
things, and that one of the most beautiful human experiences is the discovery
of a new aspect in a friend’s character or history, this is <i>prima facie</i>
plausible. Pitstick, however, offers this razor-sharp and somewhat sarcastic
critique:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">A real
distinction between the divine Persons and the divine nature seems latent when
he says they are “identical at every point ‘except where the distinct
relationships [between the Persons] require otherwise.’” The distinction of
Persons actually requires quite a large area in which they would not be
identical, since “the divine hypostases know and interpenetrate each other to
the </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">very same
degree<i> that each of them opens up to the other in absolute freedom.” Given
the unpredictability of what one will reveal to the other, and given that such
surprise continues for all eternity, the realm in which the Persons do not “interpenetrate”
each other must be quite large.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB">I look forward
to reading the third and last part.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
Blessed
Easter!<br />
<div class="Poetry">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-83429346100096156292016-03-21T23:50:00.000+01:002016-03-22T00:22:22.793+01:00The People of the Earth<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I missed last
week, and have nothing but a short post to make up for it today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Currently I am
reading <i>Holy War in Ancient Israel</i> by the German scholar Gerhard von
Rad. It is an incredibly stimulating book that makes me want to go and write a
novel. (That, or form a parish group dedicated to the planning and execution of
holy war. Just kidding, of course!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Von Rad argues
that the phenomenon of holy war was at the core of ancient Israelite society,
but that the original idea had faded by the time in which the Bible was
written. Holy wars were not religious wars; they were defensive wars to protect
the tribes of Israel. Israel was not a kingdom yet, but functioned as an
alliance which only cooperated when they were called up for war by a
charismatic leader. Von Rad refers to it as an ‘amphictyony’ (<a href="http://www.britannica.com/topic/amphictyony">definition</a>). This old
militia is later increasingly supplanted by professional soldiers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">One of the key
elements of holy war is the exhortation ‘<i>Be not afraid</i>’ – a command
which will be taken up in Isaiah (who is, according to Von Rad, the prophet
most inspired by holy war traditions) and in the New Testament.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">There was one phrase
which caught my attention in particular. Von Rad discusses how Judah’s
professional soldiers have all been assimilated into the Assyrian army after
the incursion of Sennacherib in 701 BC. Still, Judah is able to field a new
army in a surprisingly short time. According to Erhard Junge, this can only be
because the old militia is called up again under King Josiah. In fact, they
were the ones who had brought him to the throne.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">What could
be more natural than that together with the renewal of the militia to its old
military dignity the old conception of the real essence and meaning of the wars
of Israel could also arise again. The agricultural circles from which the
militia was recruited were, of course, still much more bound to patriarchal
faith and patriarchal customs than the circles around the court, the officials,
and the professional officers in the capital, who previously made all the
political and military decisions.</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">And this ‘<i>free
rural population</i>’ is called the </span><i>‘am hā’āretz</i>, the ‘people of the
earth’!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
This
reminded me immediately of a poem for which I have a particular predilection,
Chesterton’s <i>Ballad of the White Horse</i> (in fact the title of this blog is
derived from the poem). In Book VII, after King Alfred’s army has been routed
by the heathen Danes and the only survivors are the peasant slaves of Mark the
Roman, Alfred rallies them again by saying:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>Though
dead are all the paladins<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>Whom
glory had in ken,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>Though
all your thunder-sworded thanes<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>With
proud hearts died among the Danes,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>While
a man remains, great war remains:<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>Now
is a war of men.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>The
men that tear the furrows,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>The
men that fell the trees,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>When
all their lords be lost and dead<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>The
bondsmen of the earth shall tread<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>The
tyrants of the seas.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
The
‘bondsmen of the earth’ – one wonders if Chesterton knew anything about ancient
Israel’s wars!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
It
is an epic scene, but to appreciate it fully, you need to read the whole poem.<o:p></o:p></div>
Well,
what are you waiting for?<br />
<div class="Poetry">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-60352522835485590992016-03-07T09:00:00.000+01:002016-03-07T09:00:10.886+01:00The King Rests<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Last week I
gave a small talk to potential confirmands (11/12-year-olds) and their parents.
One of the kids read the passage where King David is anointed with oil. I told
them that they could also receive this sign that has existed for at least three
thousand years, and asked them if they knew what a king did. One of the kids
ventured, ‘Not much.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">That happens
to be a quite correct and Biblical answer. In I Samuel 8, when the people of
Israel come to the prophet-judge and demand a king to rule over them, Samuel
warns them that the king will take their sons and daughters into his service
and will demand their finest possessions and products. The word <i>yiqqāh</i>
‘He will take’ is repeated at least five times in the short description of the
king that the people crave. And yet the people demand a king, ‘<i>that we also
may be like all the nations</i>’ – an obvious red flag, because Israel’s
vocation is to be different from the nations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Even King
David falls. He sins by committing adultery with Bathsheba, but even more by
his complicity in the death of her husband, who is one of his most loyal
soldiers. The story of David and Bathsheba (and Uriah) is well-known. But its introduction
is usually left out; a priest recently alerted me to it. After the author has
narrated one of David’s many military exploits against the Ammonites, in
defence of the honour of his servants, this is the opening paragraph of II
Samuel 11:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">In the
spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> (hint, hint)<i>, David sent Joab,
and his servants with him, and all Israel. And they ravaged the Ammonites and
besieged Rabbah. But David remained at Jerusalem.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Well, perhaps
a king cannot be in the forefront of the battle all the time. Leading a band of
warriors is one thing, but ruling a nation demands administrative work,
diplomacy, thought. Right? Yeah, right:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">It
happened, late one afternoon, when David arose from his couch and was walking on
the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing …</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">He wasn’t
keeping himself too busy!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Then comes the
whole Bathsheba shebang, Nathan’s parable, the child’s death, Solomon’s birth –
and then we go back to the beginning. Because while all these intensely
personal matters are going on, General Joab is still at the walls of Rabbah.
When the job is done and the gate is breached, he sends word to the king to
preside over the concluding military ceremony.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>Gather the rest of the
people together and encamp against the city and take it, lest I take the city
and it be called by my name.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">After all,
Davidopolis has a better ring to it than Joabtown.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Then David
arrives at Rabbah, which his faithful soldiers (minus Uriah and a few unnamed
others who have become collateral damage) have conquered for him. And what does
he do?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>He took the crown of
their king from his head. The weight of it was a talent of gold, and in it was
a precious stone, and it was placed on David’s head. … And he brought out the
people who were in it and set them to labor with saws and iron picks and iron
axes and made them toil at the brick kilns.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
The King of Israel wears
an Ammonite crown and acts like an Egyptian pharaoh.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
So much for ‘<i>that we
also may be like all the nations</i>’.<br />
<div class="Poetry">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-59711585899820193772016-02-29T23:21:00.001+01:002016-02-29T23:21:48.684+01:00Being and Goodness<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Lately I have
been reading <i>Meditations on the Tarot</i>. It is a book that comes with a
recommendation of several Christian abbots and an epilogue by Hans Urs von
Balthasar, so I figured it was safe enough. It is written by an anonymous
author who pursued esotericism and Hermetic philosophy for quite a while, but
eventually converted to Catholic Christianity. So at some point during a
discussion of one of the twenty-two Tarot cards, he remarks that his frequent
devotional visits to the relic of the Holy Blood in Bruges were instrumental in
his realization of the importance of blood as a life-force. (I am paraphrasing
from memory here.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">In any case, I
was particularly struck by a passage which occurs in his discussion of the
second card, the High Priestess. (The book was originally written in French,
and the English translation also gives the French names of the cards; this one
is <i>la Papesse</i>, the female Pope.) The author talks about his discomfort
with renaming the Holy Trinity as ‘Being, Consciousness, Beatitude’. For, he
argues, goodness has primacy over being.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">This sparked
my interest, as St. Thomas defends the primacy of being (<i>ST</i> Ia Q5 A2),
and the first adagium of the Thomist theologian is ‘when St. Thomas is not
clearly wrong, he is obviously right’. So I read on with a sort of defensive
intellectual posture, looking for flaws in the reasoning. The kernel of the
argument was a reference to Calvary, in which God sacrificed his existence on
earth for love’s sake. But what about the Resurrection, you say? The author
argues this confirms his argument, showing ‘<i>that love is not only superior
to being but also that it engenders it and restores it</i>’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">So the
revelation to St. John, that God is Love, surpasses the revelation to Moses,
that God is He who is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">The author
further refers to the moral neutrality of being (as a concept); one could get
an idea of ‘being’ from looking at plants or minerals, but ‘goodness’
presupposes an acquaintance with psychic and spiritual life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I was still in
defensive mode, trying to recall St. Thomas’s argument, when the author dived
below the surface. He said:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">The
consequence of choosing between these two – I will not say “points of view”,
but rather “attitudes of soul” – lies above all in the intrinsic nature of the
experience of practical mysticism which consequently derives from this choice.
He who chooses being will aspire to true being and he who chooses love will
aspire to love. For one only finds that for which one seeks. The seeker for
true being will arrive at the experience of </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">repose<i> in being …</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">So far, so
good. True being, yes, that does sound like my cup of tea. And repose in being,
certainly, against the horizon of <i>ST</i> Ia Q12 A1.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">… and, as
there cannot be </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">two<i>
true beings … the centre of “false being” will be suppressed …</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I felt a bit
uneasy about this part, but before I had quite worked it out, I read on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">The characteristic
of this mystical way is that </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">one loses the capacity to cry<i>.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Ouch!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
That hurt!Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-70923263518287178072016-02-22T01:10:00.002+01:002016-02-22T01:10:47.296+01:00Pope Francis<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I was going to
point out an interesting inconsistency (?) in the encyclical <i>Laudato Si</i>.
But this past weekend, I was confronted with major headlines about something
else Pope Francis has said. It started with a Dutch news site, which was shared
in a WhatsApp group:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Pope:
contraception is allowed against Zika</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Going to the Internet to
find out the truth of the matter, there were many more such headlines from
international news sources:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
BBC: <i>Zika virus: Pope
hints at relaxation of contraception ban…</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
CNN: <i>Pope suggests
contraception OK to slow Zika</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Wall Street Journal: <i>Pope
Francis Says Contraception Can Be Acceptable in…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
New York Times: <i>Francis
Says Contraception Can Be Used to Slow Zika</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Los Angeles Times: <i>Pope
opens the door to contraception in averting harmful…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Washington Post: <i>Pope
Francis suggests contraception could be permissible…<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
The Guardian / USAToday /
ABCNews: <i>Pope suggests contraception can be condoned in Zika crisis</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Fighting my own little
guerrilla war on misinformation, I posted a link to the actual interview. It
was conceded that the Pope had not quite said it in those words.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
There was a brave <a href="http://www.catholicnewsagency.com/blog/stop-freaking-out-over-these-two-sentences-from-pope-francis/">attempt</a>
by an alumna of the University of Nebraska to explain that ‘avoiding pregnancy’
does not necessarily mean using contraceptives. This is true, but while writing
this blogpost, I heard that Fr. Lombardi has <a href="https://www.lifesitenews.com/news/breaking-vatican-affirms-pope-was-speaking-about-contraceptives-for-zika">confirmed</a>
that the Pope was indeed speaking about contraceptives. Which makes a statement
like the following difficult to harmonize with Church teaching:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>On the other hand,
avoiding pregnancy is not an absolute evil. In certain cases, as in this one,
or in the one I mentioned of Blessed Paul VI, it was clear.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
So not only does the Pope
suggest that contraception is permissible to counteract the Zika virus, but he
suggests that it is <i>clearly</i> permitted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Of course, questions now <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/feb/21/pope-francis-zika-virus-contraception">arise</a>
why this should be the case for Zika but not for AIDS.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
I think I will wait for
the dust to settle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
So, what is the
inconsistency in <i>Laudato Si</i>? This concerns the addressees of the
encyclical. In 1963, Pope John XXIII made a significant change in addressing
his encyclical on world peace (<i>Pacem in Terris</i>) not only to his
fellow-bishops and the other faithful, but to all people of good will. This
precedent has been followed in some other encyclicals, such as <i>Caritas in
Veritate</i> (but, oddly enough, not <i>Fides et Ratio</i>).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
In <i>Laudato Si</i>, the
circle seems to be drawn even wider. In one of the first paragraphs, Pope
Francis writes,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>Pope Saint John XXIII
… addressed his message </i>Pacem
in Terris<i> to the entire “Catholic world” and indeed “to all men and women of
good will”. Now, faced as we are with global environmental deterioration, I
wish to address every person living on this planet.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
A good will is not
required; if you are a person, then Pope Francis is speaking to you, whether
you are benevolent or hostile. However, further on in the document, this open
address seems to be narrowed down again, in the first sentence of Chapter 2
about the Gospel of creation:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>Why should this
document, addressed to all people of good will, include a chapter dealing with
the convictions of believers?</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
What happened to the
villains inhabiting this planet? Do they not exist or are they no longer in
view? Perhaps it is supposed that they do not read encyclicals? That would be a
wrong assumption, because I have in fact read <i>Laudato Si</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Questions, questions.
Well, let me end with an assertion, again from Pope Francis, from the airplane
interview that has so quickly become (in)famous. This is a good bit, in
response to a question about the friendship between Pope John Paul II and Dr.
Anna-Teresa Tymieniecka, that threatens to get overlooked:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>A man who does not
know how to have a relationship of friendship with a woman – I'm not talking
about misogynists, who are sick – well, he's a man who is missing something. …<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<i>I also like to hear
the opinion of a woman because they have such wealth. They look at things in a
different way. I like to say that women are those who form life in their wombs
– and this is a comparison I make – they have this charism of giving you things
you can build with.</i>Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-78540402445919660422016-02-15T17:32:00.002+01:002016-02-15T17:32:51.999+01:00Patience<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I have been
absent for a while. Meanwhile, my friend <a href="http://fireinajar.blogspot.nl/">Christy</a> has not. She has set herself
the <a href="http://fireinajar.blogspot.nl/2016/01/writing-resolutely.html">task</a>
of writing a blogpost each day, for reasons outlined in the link. I don’t think
I can do the same, but I’d like to try writing a snippet every Monday about a
text that crosses my path, any text, a book or a sentence, it does not matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">So let’s start
here and now, with the story of King Saul which I have been reading. It’s a
story I have been familiar with for a long time: the tall man chosen and
anointed to be the first king of Israel. He seems rather reluctant at first,
but comes to accept and even to love his position. When David threatens to
outshine him, he hunts him (unsuccessfully) up and down through the land.
Eventually he meets his fate in battle, dying together with his heirs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">Actually
Saul’s downfall is announced before the name of David is even mentioned. A
Philistine army is coming for him while Saul waits for the prophet Samuel, the
one who has anointed him, to offer sacrifices. But because Samuel is late and
the soldiers are starting to fidget and desert, Saul takes it upon himself to
begin the ceremony. This is problematic because an Israelite king, unlike his
colleagues in the Ancient Middle East (who are seen as divine beings),
typically has no religious functions. So when Samuel arrives, he gets angry and
tells Saul that his kingship is coming to an end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">There is one
detail in the story that I never noticed before. It happens when Saul goes to
Samuel for the first time, not with the goal of being anointed king, but
because he is on a family errand and needs some help. Saul enters the city
where Samuel lives and asks if the prophet is around. The young women answer
him,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<i>He is; behold, he is
just ahead of you. Hurry. He has come just now to the city, because the people
have a sacrifice today on the high place. As soon as you enter the city you
will find him, before he goes up to the high place to eat. For the people will
not eat till he comes, since he must bless the sacrifice; afterward those who
are invited will eat.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
The good example that
Saul should have followed is right at the beginning of the story!<br />
<div class="Poetry">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-199172015365652353.post-66098349281663249882015-09-30T22:40:00.002+02:002015-09-30T22:40:30.114+02:00Tailoring Wisdom<div class="Poetry">
<span lang="EN-GB">I have started
on a new phase in life: an internship in the parishes of the Westland region, a
federation consisting of twelve churches. I still need some time to orient
myself, so I cannot give you an impression at the moment, also because it is
getting rather late. As it is time for the September blogpost, however, I will
perform a desperate trick and pull an old poem out of the hat. Enjoy!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">Tailoring
wisdom</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Poetry">
<br /></div>
<div class="Poetry">
Voluminous billowing
cloth that can embrace<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
all forms; sparkling in
light of early morn;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
true image of the folds
of time and space –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
the cloak of erudition
lightly worn,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
clasped and adorned with
geometric gems<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
completed by a ruby at
the heart,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
vital eccentric centre.
At the hems<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
seven dancing bells that
resonate. In part<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
this intricate stitchment
of energized human signs<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
seems like a yarn spun on
the looms of God.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
The chasubles, worn by
our own divines,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
present this cherubic
aspect. Feet wing-shod<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
flutter beneath in
ill-disguised employ:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Poetry">
</div>
<div class="Poetry">
a blessing on the
gospellers of joy!<o:p></o:p></div>
Turgonianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13631382534572993042noreply@blogger.com0