An incredibly beautiful poem...

Christina Rossetti

The Convent Threshold

There's blood between us, love, my love,
There's father's blood, there's brother's blood,
And blood's a bar I cannot pass.
I choose the stairs that mount above,
Stair after golden sky-ward stair,
To city and to sea of glass.
My lily feet are soiled with mud,
With scarlet mud which tells a tale
Of hope that was, of guilt that was,
Of love that shall not yet avail;
Alas, my heart, if I could bare
My heart, this selfsame stain is there:
I seek the sea of glass and fire
To wash the spot, to burn the snare;
Lo, stairs are meant to lift us higher--
Mount with me, mount the kindled stair.

Your eyes look earthward, mine look up.
I see the far-off city grand,
Beyond the hills a watered land,
Beyond the gulf a gleaming strand
Of mansions where the righteous sup;
Who sleep at ease among their trees,
Or wake to sing a cadenced hymn
With Cherubim and Seraphim;
They bore the Cross, they drained the cup,
Racked, roasted, crushed, wrenched limb from limb,
They the offscouring of the world.
The heaven of starry heavens unfurled,
The sun before their face is dim.
You looking earthward, what see you?
Milk-white, wine-flushed among the vines,
Up and down leaping, to and fro,
Most glad, most full, made strong with wines,
Blooming as peaches pearled with dew,
Their golden windy hair afloat,
Love-music warbling in their throat,
Young men and women come and go.

You linger, yet the time is short:
Flee for your life, gird up your strength
To flee; the shadows stretched at length
Show that day wanes, that night draws nigh;
Flee to the mountain, tarry not.
Is this a time for smile and sigh,
For songs among the secret trees
Where sudden blue birds nest and sport?
The time is short and yet you stay:
To-day, while it is called to-day,
Kneel, wrestle, knock, do violence, pray;
To-day is short, to-morrow nigh:
Why will you die? why will you die?

You sinned with me a pleasant sin:
Repent with me, for I repent.
Woe's me the lore I must unlearn!
Woe's me that easy way we went,
So rugged when I would return!
How long until my sleep begin
How long shall stretch these nights and days?
Surely, clean Angels cry, she prays;
She laves her soul with tedious tears:
How long must stretch these years and years?

I turn from you my cheeks and eyes,
My hair which you shall see no more--
Alas for joy that went before,
For joy that dies, for love that dies.
Only my lips still turn to you,
My livid lips that cry, Repent.
O weary life, O weary Lent,
O weary time whose stars are few.

How shall I rest in Paradise,
Or sit on steps of heaven alone
If Saints and Angels spoke of love
Should I not answer from my throne:
Have pity upon me, ye my friends,
For I have heard the sound thereof:
Should I not turn with yearning eyes,
Turn earthwards with a pitiful pang?
Oh save me from a pang in heaven.
By all the gifts we took and gave,
Repent, repent, and be forgiven:
This life is long, but yet it ends;
Repent and purge your soul and save:
No gladder song the morning stars
Upon their birthday morning sang
Than Angels sing when one repents.

I tell you what I dreamed last night:
A spirit with transfigured face
Fire-footed clomb an infinite space.
I heard his hundred pinions clang,
Heaven-bells rejoicing rang and rang,
Heaven-air was thrilled with subtle scents,
Worlds spun upon their rushing cars.
He mounted, shrieking, "Give me light!"
Still light was poured on him, more light;
Angels, Archangels he outstripped,
Exulting in exceeding might,
And trod the skirts of Cherubim.
Still "Give me light," he shrieked; and dipped
His thirsty face, and drank a sea,
Athirst with thirst it could not slake.
I saw him, drunk with knowledge, take
From aching brows the aureole crown--
His locks writhe like a cloven snake--
He left his throne to grovel down
And lick the dust of Seraphs' feet;
For what is knowledge duly weighed?
Knowledge is strong, but love is sweet;
Yea, all the progress he had made
Was but to learn that all is small
Save love, for love is all in all.

I tell you what I dreamed last night:
It was not dark, it was not light,
Cold dews had drenched my plenteous hair
Through clay; you came to seek me there.
And "Do you dream of me?" you said.
My heart was dust that used to leap
To you; I answered half asleep:
"My pillow is damp, my sheets are red,
There's a leaden tester to my bed;
Find you a warmer playfellow,
A warmer pillow for your head,
A kinder love to love than mine."
You wrung your hands, while I, like lead,
Crushed downwards through the sodden earth;
You smote your hands but not in mirth,
And reeled but were not drunk with wine.

For all night long I dreamed of you;
I woke and prayed against my will,
Then slept to dream of you again.
At length I rose and knelt and prayed.
I cannot write the words I said,
My words were slow, my tears were few;
But through the dark my silence spoke
Like thunder. When this morning broke,
My face was pinched, my hair was grey,
And frozen blood was on the sill
Where stifling in my struggle I lay.
If now you saw me you would say:
Where is the face I used to love?
And I would answer: Gone before;
It tarries veiled in paradise.
When once the morning star shall rise,
When earth with shadow flees away
And we stand safe within the door,
Then you shall lift the veil thereof.
Look up, rise up: for far above
Our palms are grown, our place is set;
There we shall meet as once we met,
And love with old familiar love.

A note to a searching soul

“I would like to beg you, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. Perhaps you do carry within you the possibility of creating and forming an especially blessed and pure way of living; train yourself for that – but take whatever comes…”
– Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

A Strange Tribute to St Thomas

So...the other day, the professor assigned the following paper (a purely hypothetical scenario, I assure you):

In your own words, refute all the objections laid out in the Summa.
Due: in one week
Word limit: none

One of the students submitted this:

Question 1, article 1: Whether it is possible to refute all of the objections laid out in the Summa

I answer that, an action is said to be impossible in two ways: first, in itself, that is, as regards its object, and in this way it is impossible for one to know everything as God does; second, as regards the one performing it; for instance, due to a lack of time or ability. In itself, the refutation of all the objections is possible, as is evident from the fact that St. Thomas has done it. But it is impossible as regards the one performing it, and this for two reasons. First, it would take an ordinary human being with an average intelligence much longer than the time given (i.e., a week), and, second, most humans are too unintelligent (stulti) for such an undertaking, that is, they lack the ability of St. Thomas to sufficiently grasp all the concepts and transmit them adequately in their own words. Thus, due to the fallibility of most human beings as regards knowledge and the ability to communicate it, and due to their inability to finish it within such a short period of time, the project of refuting all of the objections laid out in the Summa is deemed impossible.

:)

A prayer to the Most Holy Name of Jesus whilst engaging in the reprehensible act of swing dancing

Hm. This is one of those prayers that’s bound to be a bit funny, Jesus, because all of my Catholic upbringing would cringe at the thought of you dancing. And I wonder if you did. But Lord, it’s amazing! And surely you must know that, having created it and certainly having seen it, at least at the wedding feast in Cana. It speaks to me of your inner Trinitarian life, which is like a dance, an eternal movement of undying, perfect love! And when I ponder that weird word the Greeks used to describe your Triune life – perichoresis – I realize that you do actually know the wonder of dance! So be with me in this wonderful image of life, this dynamic union of soul and body. Help me to stay pure as I dance, glorifying you in my body with thanksgiving for the marvels we, humans, can do. Help me to experience in this dance the freedom I have in you as the Father’s son/daughter and help me to be for others a reflection of your totally free, totally self-giving, love.

Now...

One day I shall realize the immensity of this moment and the awesome glory under which I have lived all this time without really being aware of it. One day, most likely when I die, I shall realize that in the greyest, most drab moments of my life were the greatest opportunities for love. One day I shall realize that Christ was at my door at moments when I least expected it. One day I shall know the glory that clothed these days - and at the sound of the trumpet in the end I shall see all these seemingly meaningless, wasted, empty, half-hearted seconds as the pieces of a puzzle put together by the pierced Hand of Christ. Then I shall know that all this time, without ever really knowing it, I lived under the shadow of LOVE.

The Call

What is my calling in life? Where does God want me? These questions are perhaps the most frustrating, confusing, and painful that a Christian may ask.

I don’t have an answer to this question, a quick, ready-made solution…unfortunately. But I have an observation.

One of the most persistent problems of the human heart is a grasping attitude. Our vocation, our happiness rests safely in Jesus’ hands, in the best hands there could be!, and yet we want an answer – that is, we want to appropriate our purpose, our mission, our place, we want it to be in our hands. But that’s just the thing – our vocation is not ours – it’s God’s calling. He wants to give us happiness. Do we believe that? I mean, really. Do I believe that God desires to give me a place in the world, in the Church, where I will be really, truly happy? If we forget that our vocation is a gift, then we’ll always make the mistake of asking God to tell us, of wanting to know and grasp it in our hands, as opposed to being always entirely dependent on God and listening closely to His will as it is revealed in our daily life.

And point number two is simple. Our calling is not some abstract, magical spiritual reality out there that we are supposed to guess or figure out, like a puzzle. It is also not a dream castle of ideas, ideals, desires, without any concrete form in our life. The calling is revealed in and through the events, circumstances, and movements in our lives. God puts people and events in our path in order to show us. We’re not going to figure this out by incessantly asking Him in prayer. Obviously, God does speak to us in prayer, too, but the “inner voice” you hear is, I have a sneaking suspicion, not enough to discover God’s plan. For instance, if one is in the seminary, and he starts building beautiful plans and dreams for a wonderful marriage with the imaginary perfect spouse – well, even if these things seem nice and sanctifying during prayer, chances are they are not God’s will because they are not real. Look at the stuff, the raw matter of your life – there is the place that Christ wants to meet you. Not in your head.

So? Well, it’s not an easy answer, but it’s the true one. The only way we’re going to find our vocation and be faithful to it is by staying close to Christ. The closer we are to Him, the clearer our life will emerge. Plus, if we do, He will not let us down. He’s not trying to play hide and seek with us – He will make His will known, in His time. That’s the frustrating part. But, of course, He does know best. And we do not. So there. Just trust.

Meeting Places...

The disciple: Christ, I want to meet you. I want to see you, to get to know you, to think like you, to love like you. Show me where and how.

Christ: Stop looking for me in strange places. Where in your life do you think I am meeting you? Why do you think you must go to a church to find me? Of course I am there. But am I not where you spend most your time, where most of your energy is invested? Seek for me in your family, in your studies, in your meals, on your dates. This is your life. This is where I will meet you. In the daily, to-you-seemingly-insignificant events of your drab life. See you there!

“Receive my service, if you will!”

The scene: Théoden, King of Rohan, receives the services of Meriadoc (Merry) Brandybuck, a Halfling from the Shire.

‘I have a sword,’ said Merry, climbing from his seat, and drawing from its black sheath his small bright blade. Filled suddenly with love for this old man, he knelt on one knee and took his hand and kissed it. ‘May I lay the sword of Meriadoc of the Shire on your lap, Théoden King?‘ he cried. ‘Receive my service, if you will!’
‘Gladly will I take it,’ said the king; and laying his long old hands upon the brown hair of the hobbit, he blessed him. ‘Rise now, Meriadoc, esquire of Rohan of the household of Meduseld!’ he said, ‘Take your sword and bear it unto good fortune!’
‘As a father you shall be to me,’ said Merry.

~ J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Book V, Chapter II

The scene, I think, resembles what each of us experienced during our first conversion, when we first decided to follow Christ, the King of kings, unconditionally.
“Filled suddenly with love” – maybe it was a tragic event, some kind of suffering, or an awareness of God’s presence that made us light up with a fire of love for God and bade us to offer our services – all of them, regardless of how little we knew or didn’t yet know them to be – to Him. I am certain that objectively our promise of loyalty and service looked just as pathetic as the picture we get above – a little hobbit kneeling before a great King. What, after all, can a hobbit do with a sword? We’ll be glad if he doesn’t hurt himself when he takes it out of its sheath… and yet – the love he has for his King bids him give it a try.
“Gladly will I take it” – God honors our bravery (or folly) and smiles indulgently and blesses us and tells us that our efforts, no matter how small, are pleasing to Him if they are carried out for Him and through Him.
“Rise now” – God raises us to another state with His grace and we are given the power and strength – just like Merry was filled with courage during battle – to fight the good fight for Him. And he becomes our father. “Like a father you shall be to me,” said Merry. And He is.
So the picture is multi-faceted with many glimpses worth thinking about. But the overarching thought is the comical absurdity of the whole scene – a hobbit offering his services (if we can call it that) to a King who certainly doesn’t need them, but who, precisely because of his great love for Merry, accepts them nonetheless. This is like that moment of our conversion – when we took our sword and looked at it and said, ‘You know, this piece of baggage that I’ve been carrying around and never used can actually be used for something worthwhile. And these hands of mine, little though they be, can wield it.’ And God took our hands into His and smiled and said, “’Take your sword and bear it unto good fortune’, fighting for me.”
The beginning of the New Year is precisely the time for such a conversion: for the second conversion. Again and again, we rise after falling, we rediscover, over and over again, that we are only Halflings in the presence of the King and that we can only offer our insignificant little services. But we must do so nevertheless! Let’s make that offer of our services quickly, and say with it that we need God’s strength to keep our word. We know very well that in two weeks (or maybe two days) all our good resolutions (if we made any!) will likely end up on a piece of paper in the garbage can. Merry knew that he’d probably get killed by his first opponent. Did that stop him from offering his sword? NO! Courage isn’t about confidence, but about will and desire. We know we will fail, but we also know that if we do not offer our services to the King of kings and try, really TRY, we will waste the opportunity of a lifetime. We must get over our discouragement and make that offering again and again. Think of what Merry was offering – he was giving his life, putting his life on the line for the king he has come to love. His life! Let’s stop offering God our ‘good deeds’ and extra prayers and mortifications, and resisting the second cookie and saying something nice to our sisters and obeying our parents in that silly little thing. Those are all important and good, but they are meaningless if we don’t lay our life on the line also! Generosity, generosity, generosity! Do not be skimpy with God. That little hobbit wasn’t holding anything back when he knelt in front of Théoden.
Let’s throw it all out there – everything – and think about what happened to Merry. Against all odds, he saved Éowyn from the Witch King so that she was alive to kill him soon after. Learn from that. God works against all odds, even against our pathetic little abilities and failures and laziness. Take out that rusted sword. It’s been lying unused for too long. Bend your knee and kiss His hand and tell Him you give your all. Tell Him you know it’s nothing, but fight despite that. He will help you. The time of sleeping is over. It’s time to say once again, at the beginning of this new year: “Receive my service, if you will”, and this time to mean it!