Against ugliness.

Ugliness is counterfeit. Ugliness destroys all beauty, because if someone sees beauty they will follow it, and not the approved works. This is why our local schools only get kids to read relevant works. Because, perhap, they will read something beautiful and that will shamed. There are those who write well and it is a … Continue reading Against ugliness.

Three Quotes, Sunday Vespers.

In part I am doing this for Mundabor, and Scott. What we have is three quotes, out of chronological order. The correct order would be the Didache, then St Syrus, then John Calvin. (I have omitted the previous part of Calvin, when he challenges those who argue apostolic succession to Rome as the foundation of … Continue reading Three Quotes, Sunday Vespers.

Sunday Sonnet.

This one from Belloc is more like Kipling than Hopkins. But it is Sunday, the theme is death, and I don't merely want to put a satirical sonnet up. Spring and Fall to a young child Márgarét, áre you gríeving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leáves like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care … Continue reading Sunday Sonnet.

Music, Poem.

Jasmine's Beautiful Thoughts Underneath the Willow My titillations have no foot-notes And their memorials are the phrases Of idiosyncratic music. The love that will not be transported In an old, frizzled, flambeaud manner, But muses on its eccentricity, Is like a vivid apprehension Of bliss beyond the mutes of plaster, Or paper souvenirs of rapture, … Continue reading Music, Poem.

The truth that is feared leads to baptism.

Today the passages in the lectionary focus on Baptism, and this has not been without controversy within church history. There are whole theologies based around baptism: and I think that is an error. We base our faith on Christ. Not on ourselves or our acts. Not on how we do the act. But on Christ. … Continue reading The truth that is feared leads to baptism.

Carols, sort of

And finally, a Norwegian Carol. Mitt hjerte alltid vanker - English translation My heart will always wander To where our Lord was born, My thoughts will always go there And take on their true form. My longing does belong there, With the treasure of my faith; I never shall forget you, O blessed Christmas night! … Continue reading Carols, sort of

The destruction of the force.

The force is a myth. A myth is a metaphor, that there will be a chosen one or a group who have a gift. If you will, Skywalker is a superhero. His father was a superhero who became corrupted. And in the latest star wars movie this myth is reduced to ashes. Because that is … Continue reading The destruction of the force.

The cold bed of some tyrant.

There are many poems about duty, but not many about those who wait. And fear. To be absent from Ipswich in the ealry colonial time was to rely on one's neighbours for protection, but duty bore Mr Bradshteet away from his wife. Such it has always been. A Letter to her Husband, absent upon Publick … Continue reading The cold bed of some tyrant.

A witness for this generation.

Mary was young. She was flawed: we all are, and the immaculate conception is disproven by the fact that Mary tried to have Jesus put away when he was preaching out of fear for his life and sanity. She understood precisely what he was saying, and what the consequences could be. The cultus of Mary … Continue reading A witness for this generation.

Advent three.

I have had a series of conversations with Robyn about the current sexual red terror. She says, correctly, that there are many men, particularly in progressive and church circles, who call for protection and complain that they are being persecuted. She says, when I call them wimps, that All men are like that. And she … Continue reading Advent three.