In Memorium

Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, 1936 – 2009

“As children of a culture radically, even religiously, devoted to youth and health, many find it incomprehensible, indeed offensive, that the word “good” should in any way be associated with death. Death, it is thought, is an unmitigated evil, the very antithesis of all that is good.

“Death is to be warded off by exercise, by healthy habits, by medical advances. What cannot be halted can be delayed, and what cannot forever be delayed can be denied. But all our progress and all our protest notwithstanding, the mortality rate holds steady at 100 percent.”

In the rest of this article, Fr. Neuhaus talks about his near death experience nine years ago.  Read it here.

For Bagshot Row

The Convert by G. K. Chesterton

After one moment when I bowed my head
And the whole world turned over and came upright,
And I came out where the old road shone white,
I walked the ways and heard what all men said,
Forests of tongues, like autumn leaves unshed,
Being not unlovable but strange and light;
Old riddles and new creeds, not in despite
But softly, as men smile about the dead.

The sages have a hundred maps to give
That trace their crawling cosmos like a tree,
They rattle reason out through many a sieve
That stores the sand and lets the gold go free:
And all these things are less than dust to me
Because my name is Lazarus and I live.

Almost lost

The internet has a way of finding what I thought I’d lost, like old friends, and sometimes losing them again. I thought it had done it to me again, when a friend from myspace, who was technically (no pun intended) not lost, it’s just that I never hang out on myspace anymore, showed up on facebook and started posting all these interesting thoughts and writings and such, as this particular friend is prone to do, and then suddenly disappeared, left, without saying goodbye, leaving me with his comments tragically pale, literally (pun intended) rendered opaque to signify that a friend had come, commiserated, and left. But, the internet giveth again, and I have foundeth his shiney new 2009 blog, and in the spirit of that world wide generosity I share it with you.

http://jerespresso.blogspot.com/

As this friend likes to reminds me, You are not alone.

What I learned on my Christmas vacation

If you’ve never watched a show called Joan of Arcadia, it is worth Netflixing.  (Is that a verb yet?)  A teenage girl, Joan, played so honestly by Amber Tamblyn that sometimes it’s embarrassing, begins receiving visits from God in various manifestations.  There is  Dogwalker God, Library Lady God, Goth Teenager God, Little Girl God, Cute Teenager God and many others.  God seems to be there to give Joan tasks and to teach her, but what Joan tries to accomplish and what she ends up learning always seem a little bit different than what God really intends.  Her parents, two brothers and friends at school are involved in the plot and God’s plan, and the writers weave their lives together brilliantly.  Oh, and there’s great music.

This particular dialogue from the first season struck me the third time around, particularly the idea of romance as a meditative state.  What do you all think (all two and a half of you who occasionaly read this blog)?

  • Little Girl God: And they all lived happily ever after? (Joan turns) There’s a surprise. (Joan scoffs) You guys really like that ending.
    Joan: Yeah, well, you have a better one?
    Little Girl God: They all moved towards spiritual growth and enlightenment?
    Joan: Yeah. That’s gonna work with the kids.
    Little Girl God: Ever notice that the guy always has to risk his life and the girl is nearly dead when he finds her? It takes a kiss to wake her up and they ride off together. It’s a nice metaphor.
    Joan: For what?
    Little Girl God: Death and resurrection.
    Joan: Yeah. Well, that’s a fun party game.
    Little Girl God: It happens all the time. The illusion dies so that something deeper can take its place.
    Joan: (sits down) Are you saying that… Adam and I are an illusion?
    Little Girl God: Romance serves a purpose. It’s a meditative state. It puts logic to sleep so that people can come together. Otherwise you guys probably wouldn’t risk it.
    Joan: Why did you have to make love so complicated? I mean… couldn’t that one thing been easy?
    Little Girl God: Love is big. It’s a bright light in the universe and a bright light casts a big shadow. So, what do you wanna do, Joan?
    Joan: (sighs) How am I supposed to know?
    Little Girl God: By looking at it. Real love is hard work; you have to decide if you want it in your story. Or if you’d rather just stay in the dream.

One Art

I just discovered a new favorite poem, One Art by Elizabeth Bishop.  It has a deep meaning to me that is probably not the exact meaning the author meant for the poem.  Here it is to mean something to you, if you like.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

–Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.