Last week at my evangelical church's morning Sunday School, a man popped up with a comment about the Sacrament of Reconciliation. He said that confessing to priest was just wrong, and the priest forcing someone to babble a bunch of Hail Mary's was "evil." So I thought I'd do a little research into this prayer (and the sacrament) and see what's what.
The full text of the prayer is as follows:
Hail Mary
Full of Grace
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary,
Mother of God,
Pray for us sinners now
And at the hour of our death.
The first four lines of the prayer are from the twenty-eighth verse of the first chapter of St. Luke's gospel, and the next line is from the forty-second verse of the same chapter. So the first section is entirely of Scripture.
From what I read, the second stanza was added around 1560-1570, during the Counter-Reformation. This section entrusts Mary with the supplications and prayers of the children of God because she, too, was human and therefore understands the human condition. She cannot answer prayer; she can only pray FOR us, the same way we could ask a friend, a family member, or a pastor, to pray for us. But since she is Jesus' mom, she is a good person to ask to pray for us.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church states that the "Hail Mary" prayer is "centered on the person of Christ manifested in his mysteries." So what are "mysteries" referring to? The BIG mystery is Christ coming down to earth in human form, fully God and fully human. So the Lord is magnified and praised for the "great things" He did for his lowly handmaiden, Mary, and through her for all human beings (2675). The Catechism also states, "we should piously and suppliantly have recourse to her that by her intercession she may reconcile God with us sinners." See, Mary can't answer prayers, but she prays for us, in such a way as to bring us closer ("reconcile" us) to God.
I also looked into the Catechism of the Roman Catholic Church to see what it said about the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Section 1441 clearly states, "Only God forgives sin." See, the priest doesn't forgive sin -- only Jesus can do that!
The priest, as God's representative, hears a person's confession, and then assigns a penance, which "requires the sinner to endure all things willingly, be contrite of heart, confess with the lips, and practice complete humility and fruitful satisfaction" (Section 1450). The priest needs to fulfill certain criteria before being able to hear confessions and assign penance -- they are to pray to God for help in guiding each individual, doing all this to help the penitent draw closer to God.
Section 1460 of the CCC states, "The penance the confessor [priest/bishop] imposes must take into account the penitent's personal situation and must seek his spiritual good. It must correspond as far as possible with the gravity and nature of the sins committed. It can consist of prayer, an offering, works of mercy, service of neighbor, voluntary self-denial, sacrifice, and above all the patient acceptance of the cross we must all bear." So penance is for the good of the sinner. Just as if our kid broke a neighbor's window, just apologizing isn't enough; he/she is required to pay back the cost of the broken window. Penance is the same idea -- "making things right" rather than just confessing is the best way to help the sinner NOT commit the same sin again.
Section 1465 further states, "When he celebrates the sacrament of penance, the priest is fulfilling the ministry of the Good Shepherd who seeks the lost sheep, of the Good Samaritan who binds up wounds, of the Father who awaits the prodigal son and welcomes him on his return, and of the just and impartial judge whose judgment is both just and merciful. The priest is the sign and the instrument of God's merciful love for the sinner." The priest is there to advise, encourage, and help the penitent return fully to God.
The Catechism continues, "The confessor is not the master of God's forgiveness, but its servant... and leads the penitent with patience toward healing and full maturity. The whole power of the sacrament of penance consists in restoring us to God's grace and joining us with him in intimate friendship" (Sections 1466, 1468).
That's clear enough -- the priest is but God's servant in restoring the penitent fully to God. God speaks through the priest to aid the sinner in loving and serving Jesus.
I now understand a little better why the Sacrament of Reconciliation/Penance is so important in liturgical churches. I'm not sure I'll ever pray the "Hail Mary," but I don't see anything wrong with doing so. Even Luther prayed this prayer; he was very into Mary and encouraged his Protestant flocks to not neglect to ask her to pray for them. In his sermon of March 11, 1523, he states, "Whoever possesses a good (firm) faith, says the Hail Mary without danger!"
So we can pray the "Hail Mary" if our hearts so desire. I'm not sure mine does, but it's an interesting issue to ponder and chew upon.
Little thoughts from my mind to yours about living a contemplative life in a far too busy world.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Friday, February 9, 2007
An Interesting School Day...
We started off the day with a dissection of owl pellets -- the pellets that owls regurgitate all the fur and bones from their gizzard that they can't digest.
Science project. Oh goody.
Fortunately, the owl pellet was pasteurized, so the boys couldn't get any nasty germs, etc. T carefully picked it apart, finding many shrew ribs and jaws (with teeth included), and a shrew skull. We bleached the bones in a weak Clorox solution, and the boys matched up bones on the included chart to see which animals were consumed by this particular owl.
We went from owl pellets to studying how World War I. Then to grammar and spelling and math. The boys took a late afternoon break to the library's Friday afternoon kids art class, where today they were constructing three-dimensional kites out of drinking straws and string. B, although he's only 7, figured out an easier way of threading the straws. Next week they'll finish the kites.
As I sat at the library for the hour-and-a-half that the boy worked on their kites, I read the newspaper and our town's monthly newspaper, The Valley Views. While I relaxed, I had a chance to visit with several friends who also stopped by the library whom I haven't seen for a while around town. Very nice!
So a bit of a different homeschool day ... owl pellets, kites, and all.
Science project. Oh goody.
Fortunately, the owl pellet was pasteurized, so the boys couldn't get any nasty germs, etc. T carefully picked it apart, finding many shrew ribs and jaws (with teeth included), and a shrew skull. We bleached the bones in a weak Clorox solution, and the boys matched up bones on the included chart to see which animals were consumed by this particular owl.
We went from owl pellets to studying how World War I. Then to grammar and spelling and math. The boys took a late afternoon break to the library's Friday afternoon kids art class, where today they were constructing three-dimensional kites out of drinking straws and string. B, although he's only 7, figured out an easier way of threading the straws. Next week they'll finish the kites.
As I sat at the library for the hour-and-a-half that the boy worked on their kites, I read the newspaper and our town's monthly newspaper, The Valley Views. While I relaxed, I had a chance to visit with several friends who also stopped by the library whom I haven't seen for a while around town. Very nice!
So a bit of a different homeschool day ... owl pellets, kites, and all.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
On Top of the Fire Scare Today...
... we JUST had a small earthquake nearby. The boys were getting into bed, and E, Dash, and I were settling down to watch the Survivor premiere when the house shook, once gently and slowly and then again, more strongly and jerkingly. The windows rattled and the hanging light over the school table swayed slightly.
The boys came flying out of their room -- "Did you feel THAT, Mom?" Yep, we all did.
I just checked the USGS site and it was a minor quake of 3.3 on the Richter scale, centered less than 30 miles from our town, out in the desert. No damage anywhere.
A fire in the morning, and an earthquake in the evening. Living in Southern California is nevah, nevah dull.
The boys came flying out of their room -- "Did you feel THAT, Mom?" Yep, we all did.
I just checked the USGS site and it was a minor quake of 3.3 on the Richter scale, centered less than 30 miles from our town, out in the desert. No damage anywhere.
A fire in the morning, and an earthquake in the evening. Living in Southern California is nevah, nevah dull.
A Scare.....
We Southern Californians get a little skittish when we smell smoke, especially after 2003's devastating Cedar Fire which burned nearly 20% of San Diego County, killing 19 people and destroying over 3,000 homes. Our town was under mandatory evacuation orders; our family stayed with Keith's dad "down the hill" for four days. This past summer, four different fires burned areas immediately surrounding our small town, once for which we evacuated voluntarily for three days because of the smoke and T's asthma. The sheriff's office issued reverse 911 calls to alert us to the danger, and the kids and I were outta here in under an hour; Keith stayed to watch over house and dog with the van packed and ready to go in case he had to leave quickly. Just a faint whiff of smoke causes a frisson of fear down the spine around here.
So when I stepped onto the porch a few moments ago on my way to the laundry room, I was alarmed to smell a strong scent of smoke, enough to make T start coughing. I also noticed the sun was shining hazily, with that yellowish tinge that always makes alarm bells ring in my head.
The boys noticed these signs along with me, and their faces paled. They became as skittish as colts, unable to remain in their seats for grammar and spelling because they were constantly at the window, judging the sunlight and watching for ash.
So I turned on the TV -- nothing about a local fire. I turned on the AM radio news station -- only our local Roger Hedgecock subbing for Rush and no story regarding fire on the half-past local news. Okay, it's time to start calling around town to see what's up.
I called Sheri, who was as mystified and concerned as I was, and whose husband was trying to find out what was happening from his office in the city. She assured me that she would call me if she heard anything. I called Judith next, and although she wasn't home, her husband was. And, whew! He told me that is was a "controlled burn" north of town. Now this is NOT the usual season for a controlled burn, especially with the vegetation as brown and dry as it is now, but so be it. I sighed with relief, called Sheri back, and settled the boys back down to their studies.
Smoke is no joke around here. I feel relieved that it is only a controlled burn, but the adrenaline is going to have to calm a bit before I'm ready to settle into my own work. The past is hard to forget around here, especially when fire is concerned.
So when I stepped onto the porch a few moments ago on my way to the laundry room, I was alarmed to smell a strong scent of smoke, enough to make T start coughing. I also noticed the sun was shining hazily, with that yellowish tinge that always makes alarm bells ring in my head.
The boys noticed these signs along with me, and their faces paled. They became as skittish as colts, unable to remain in their seats for grammar and spelling because they were constantly at the window, judging the sunlight and watching for ash.
So I turned on the TV -- nothing about a local fire. I turned on the AM radio news station -- only our local Roger Hedgecock subbing for Rush and no story regarding fire on the half-past local news. Okay, it's time to start calling around town to see what's up.
I called Sheri, who was as mystified and concerned as I was, and whose husband was trying to find out what was happening from his office in the city. She assured me that she would call me if she heard anything. I called Judith next, and although she wasn't home, her husband was. And, whew! He told me that is was a "controlled burn" north of town. Now this is NOT the usual season for a controlled burn, especially with the vegetation as brown and dry as it is now, but so be it. I sighed with relief, called Sheri back, and settled the boys back down to their studies.
Smoke is no joke around here. I feel relieved that it is only a controlled burn, but the adrenaline is going to have to calm a bit before I'm ready to settle into my own work. The past is hard to forget around here, especially when fire is concerned.
A Simple Pleasure....
During our lunch hour today I stole a moment to write a letter to my eighth grade English and American History teacher, with whom the kids and I had lunch a few weeks ago. (He would be so pleased to see I used "whom" correctly and didn't end my sentence with a preposition.) He taught me grammar in such a way that I came to love the subject, and he also infused in me a passion for history that still affects me today. (That's "affect," not "effect;" one must keep those two words straight.)
Available from E's Junior Cotillion course last fall was specially ordered embossed stationery; I ordered some for E and some for myself. (Mr. Stan again would be impressed that I remembered that the stuff we write on ends in "-ery" and that stuff that stands still ends in "-ary"; what would I have done without his excellent tutelage?) As I removed the lid of the cloth-covered box this afternoon to use a card for the first time, the beauty of the experience overtook me. Moving aside the thin white tissue paper, I unearthed the stack of thick, rich, cream-hued cards, embossed in navy with my full first name, my middle initial, and my last name, in elegant script lettering. I wrote my note in blue ink to match the navy embossing, and when I had finished, I sealed it in its thick cream envelope, with my name and address again embossed in lovely raised navy script on the back flap.
What a rich experience -- an everyday ocurrence a hundred or even fifty years ago for a woman of means. But for a harried homeschool mom with an afternoon of mathematics and grammar ahead, it was a moment out of time upon which to savour and reflect. (Please pardon the British spelling, dear Mr. Stan, but at least I rewrote the last sentence so as to NOT end with "upon." And please excuse the following sentence fragment which is an example of artistic license -- I promise.)
The simple, elegant pleasures of a few moments -- nearly as restful as a hot bubble bath or European chocolate to the senses and spirit.
Available from E's Junior Cotillion course last fall was specially ordered embossed stationery; I ordered some for E and some for myself. (Mr. Stan again would be impressed that I remembered that the stuff we write on ends in "-ery" and that stuff that stands still ends in "-ary"; what would I have done without his excellent tutelage?) As I removed the lid of the cloth-covered box this afternoon to use a card for the first time, the beauty of the experience overtook me. Moving aside the thin white tissue paper, I unearthed the stack of thick, rich, cream-hued cards, embossed in navy with my full first name, my middle initial, and my last name, in elegant script lettering. I wrote my note in blue ink to match the navy embossing, and when I had finished, I sealed it in its thick cream envelope, with my name and address again embossed in lovely raised navy script on the back flap.
What a rich experience -- an everyday ocurrence a hundred or even fifty years ago for a woman of means. But for a harried homeschool mom with an afternoon of mathematics and grammar ahead, it was a moment out of time upon which to savour and reflect. (Please pardon the British spelling, dear Mr. Stan, but at least I rewrote the last sentence so as to NOT end with "upon." And please excuse the following sentence fragment which is an example of artistic license -- I promise.)
The simple, elegant pleasures of a few moments -- nearly as restful as a hot bubble bath or European chocolate to the senses and spirit.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
A Dear Companion
This is the guy who cuddles with me every night. Dashwood, Dash for short, is nearly a year-and-a-half old, and is my comfort when I'm in pain and sofa-bound.
We got Dash from a family who lost their home in the devastating Cedar Fire of 2003. Keith designed their new home, and the Catholic family of seven invited us to their house warming and home blessing. The blessing of the home was a lovely ceremony, one that I will remember. This family also raises miniature dachshunds, our favorite breed of dog. After the blessing, we got to see the only puppy the family had from the latest litter. The puppy licked E's face over and over, and Keith, with a little persuasion, gave us the okay to take him home.
Dash has been part of our family since Halloween 2005. He was not easy to house train, and E took his training in hand, including weekly classes at PetSmart. He still tends to bark at any person he sees, even if they're all the way across the meadow, but otherwise, Dash is just a love of a dog. A lap dog who is always found curled up with any of the four kids during school, Dash is beloved by everyone, and even became the subject of one of T's essays for his current BraveWriter writing class.
This week the kids taught Dash to fetch a frisbee nearly his own size. I'll post the photos when I have a chance. But until then, enjoy this photo of our darlin' pup.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
A Summer Memory...
Unknown to us, this parade down our "main drag," Old Highway 80, last July may have been the last of the our town's summer festivals. Here, with Hap cruising ever so slowly down the main street, lined with oaks and pines, Father Acker takes a quick break from playing guitar to wave at me while I, sitting in front of the 50s diner, snap a picture of him and three of our four kids as they throw out Tootsie Rolls to the crowd. The candy wrappers are covered with stickers giving Alpine Anglican's website, phone number, and place and time for services. Clever!
My kids were in the parade TWICE. They went through early in the parade in one of Hap's firetrucks, spraying water on the crowd (and don't think the didn't bean their dear mom, either; it was an irresistible opportunity!). Just as I was beginning to worry about them as they hadn't returned to me yet, they come around again with Father in the back of the truck, tossing candy over the sides of the truck and singing along with Father's guitar-playing. I can't tell you how many people came up to me that day saying, "Yes, I saw your kids in the parade. BOTH times."
Well, those wonderful days may be over. Part of our town celebration was a rodeo, held just outside our back gate. Both rings would be going full-bore, with roping, buck-broncing, all the stuff of rodeos. People would gather in the shaded metal stands, eating nachos and drinking beer and lemonade. Inevitably, we would receive a drenching rainshower, and everyone would duck for cover for twenty minutes; then, everything was back as usual, with microphones booming and cattle lowing
Last Saturday, we were stunned and sickened to see the rings being removed from the meadow. Some guy from El Centro has bought the property and refuses to allow the town to use his land, the same land used for the last 26 years of the annual town celebration. Apparently the guy wants to build 20 houses immediately outside our gate, filling in this peaceful place, where a blue heron lurks every winter and where crows and red-tailed hawks soar, with a housing development.
See, this is a small town. 1200 people. The only "development" we've ever had was in the mid-70s, and it was not filling in the center of the town; it was on the outskirts. It didn't take over a peaceful, wildlife-rich environment that is the stuff of promising green in spring, of rodeos and laughter in summer, of beautiful purple sunsets in fall,and of peaceful snowfields in winter.
So today I'm mourning for our lovely meadow. And for our beloved town festival, which may not be occurring next year at all, parade included.
Friday, February 2, 2007
Bono and "The Priority of the Poor"
E, a friend's daughter, and I attended Journey Community Church's Friday night service. Featured tonight was an exclusive video cast of an interview of Bono by Bill Hybels of Willow Creek, a huge mega-church. The topic: "The Priority of the Poor." I felt rather guilty attending because I knew full well that a contingent of people from our own church, Lake Murray, were feeding the homeless in downtown San Diego at the very time of this service. Was I being a hearer of the Word, rather than a doer? That was only the beginning of the conviction I was to feel this night.
After singing some worship music, the video cast started off with concert footage of U2 from the Elevation tour. Bono is running around a heart-shaped catwalk that goes deep into the audience as he starts to sing "Where the Streets Have No Name," a vision of a beautiful Heaven. Then the video breaks to Bono at last year's National Prayer Breakfast, quoting from Isaiah 58 and the beginning of Jesus' ministry in Luke 4. The video then comes to the interview with the pastor. Bono talks about the One Campaign (www.one.org) and how although he has no issues with Jesus and His teachings, he has a huge problem with Christians, with the judgmentalism and hypocrisy he saw in the Church, how the Church was late on Civil Rights, on Apartheid, and now on AIDs and its prevention and annihilation.
He talked about his and Alli's first trip to Ethopia in 1985, working in an orphanage with World Vision. The innate dignity of this proud people, now queuing to beg for food, being slaughtered by preventable diseases like malaria. How could these beautiful people be starving in a world of plenty? Bono spent ten years trying to forget what he saw in Africa, but by 1998 he was ready to start "spending his celebrity" as a strategy for helping Africa. He got on board with DATA and the Jubilee project of debt-relief. Redemption is an economic term, after all.
Great ideas at the right time are like a great melody -- irresistible, says Bono. But the Church has been behindhand. AIDs is the leprosy of our time, and the Church has been judgmental about the AIDs crisis. "Love thy neighbor" Bono reminds us, is a command, not mere advice. In this global village, we all are neighbors and we simply can't ignore senseless starvation, illness, and death just because it's "over there." Nothing is "over there" anymore.
Bono also said that the part of the Lord's Prayer that really gets to him is "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, ON EARTH, as it is in Heaven." Heaven on earth. (A topic of several songs on his latest CDs.) Christians, says Bono, need to indeed have the peace that passes all understanding, yet also cannot live at peace with the world. The problems that we can fix, we should fix. He advises us all to work together, for the Christians to "chill out" and work side-by-side with people with whom they may not be comfortable. This is not a duty or a burden but an opportunity, an adventure, for the Church to lead the fight for life in Africa -- for the annihilation of malaria and AIDs and TB through education and cheap medications. It's our adventure: getting involved in helping our brothers and sisters in Africa as the journey of equality among all God's children moves on.
Throughout the video cast was sprinkled concert footage of "Pride (In the Name of Love)," "Beautiful Day," "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" (with a gospel choir in a Harlem church), and finished up with the song that started the video: "Where the Streets Have No Name."
Provoking. Strategic. Wise. Passionate. Challenging. It's Bono's charge to the Church: get involved! We can't sit on the sidelines and allow suffering to go on while we do nothing. Are we sheep or goats in the final Judgment? Are we truly serving the "least of these"?
After singing some worship music, the video cast started off with concert footage of U2 from the Elevation tour. Bono is running around a heart-shaped catwalk that goes deep into the audience as he starts to sing "Where the Streets Have No Name," a vision of a beautiful Heaven. Then the video breaks to Bono at last year's National Prayer Breakfast, quoting from Isaiah 58 and the beginning of Jesus' ministry in Luke 4. The video then comes to the interview with the pastor. Bono talks about the One Campaign (www.one.org) and how although he has no issues with Jesus and His teachings, he has a huge problem with Christians, with the judgmentalism and hypocrisy he saw in the Church, how the Church was late on Civil Rights, on Apartheid, and now on AIDs and its prevention and annihilation.
He talked about his and Alli's first trip to Ethopia in 1985, working in an orphanage with World Vision. The innate dignity of this proud people, now queuing to beg for food, being slaughtered by preventable diseases like malaria. How could these beautiful people be starving in a world of plenty? Bono spent ten years trying to forget what he saw in Africa, but by 1998 he was ready to start "spending his celebrity" as a strategy for helping Africa. He got on board with DATA and the Jubilee project of debt-relief. Redemption is an economic term, after all.
Great ideas at the right time are like a great melody -- irresistible, says Bono. But the Church has been behindhand. AIDs is the leprosy of our time, and the Church has been judgmental about the AIDs crisis. "Love thy neighbor" Bono reminds us, is a command, not mere advice. In this global village, we all are neighbors and we simply can't ignore senseless starvation, illness, and death just because it's "over there." Nothing is "over there" anymore.
Bono also said that the part of the Lord's Prayer that really gets to him is "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, ON EARTH, as it is in Heaven." Heaven on earth. (A topic of several songs on his latest CDs.) Christians, says Bono, need to indeed have the peace that passes all understanding, yet also cannot live at peace with the world. The problems that we can fix, we should fix. He advises us all to work together, for the Christians to "chill out" and work side-by-side with people with whom they may not be comfortable. This is not a duty or a burden but an opportunity, an adventure, for the Church to lead the fight for life in Africa -- for the annihilation of malaria and AIDs and TB through education and cheap medications. It's our adventure: getting involved in helping our brothers and sisters in Africa as the journey of equality among all God's children moves on.
Throughout the video cast was sprinkled concert footage of "Pride (In the Name of Love)," "Beautiful Day," "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" (with a gospel choir in a Harlem church), and finished up with the song that started the video: "Where the Streets Have No Name."
Provoking. Strategic. Wise. Passionate. Challenging. It's Bono's charge to the Church: get involved! We can't sit on the sidelines and allow suffering to go on while we do nothing. Are we sheep or goats in the final Judgment? Are we truly serving the "least of these"?
Presentation of Christ in the Temple
Today, February 2, is a Feast Day. I was surprised when Father Acker came out with cream vestments, rather than the usual green for this short "Ordinary Time" between Epiphany and Lent. But today is celebrated in the Anglican (and probably Catholic, perhaps also Orthodox) Church as "The Presentation of Christ in the Temple, commonly called The Purification of Saint Mary the Virgin." That's certainly a mouthful of a title!
The feast springs from the second chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, starting in verse 22. To summarize, Mary and Joseph bring the baby Jesus to the temple when the days of her purification are over, and they present Him as their first born (and therefore dedicated to the Lord). The sacrifice, according to the Law, is a pair of turtle doves or two small pigeons. While they are in the temple, they meet up with Simeon,an elderly man who had been told by the Holy Spirit that he would see the Lord's Christ before he died. Simeon's praise, called the "Nunc Dimittis," part of the Office of Evening Prayer in the 1928 Book of Common Prayer, goes like so:
Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word: for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people; a light to enlighten the Gentiles, and the glory of Thy people Israel. (St. Luke 2:29+)
Simeon adds to Mary, "...yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also." What a prophecy -- frightening, I'm sure, to the young mother. What a lot this woman had to ponder regarding this babe in her arms!
Then Anna, an octogenarian prophetess who has prayed in the temple night and day since her widowhood early in life, approaches the new parents, adding her blessings, thanks, and praises to God for the Christ Child.
The Collect (prayer) for the day reads thus:
Almighty and everliving God, we humbly beseech Thy Majesty, that, as Thy only-begotten Son was this day presented in the temple in substance of our flesh, so we may be presented unto Thee with pure and clean hearts, by the same Thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
May we indeed posses pure and clean hearts, not through our own paltry efforts, but through Him who was, is, and ever shall be, perfect and blameless. To HIm be all glory, honour, and praise!
The feast springs from the second chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, starting in verse 22. To summarize, Mary and Joseph bring the baby Jesus to the temple when the days of her purification are over, and they present Him as their first born (and therefore dedicated to the Lord). The sacrifice, according to the Law, is a pair of turtle doves or two small pigeons. While they are in the temple, they meet up with Simeon,an elderly man who had been told by the Holy Spirit that he would see the Lord's Christ before he died. Simeon's praise, called the "Nunc Dimittis," part of the Office of Evening Prayer in the 1928 Book of Common Prayer, goes like so:
Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word: for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people; a light to enlighten the Gentiles, and the glory of Thy people Israel. (St. Luke 2:29+)
Simeon adds to Mary, "...yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also." What a prophecy -- frightening, I'm sure, to the young mother. What a lot this woman had to ponder regarding this babe in her arms!
Then Anna, an octogenarian prophetess who has prayed in the temple night and day since her widowhood early in life, approaches the new parents, adding her blessings, thanks, and praises to God for the Christ Child.
The Collect (prayer) for the day reads thus:
Almighty and everliving God, we humbly beseech Thy Majesty, that, as Thy only-begotten Son was this day presented in the temple in substance of our flesh, so we may be presented unto Thee with pure and clean hearts, by the same Thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
May we indeed posses pure and clean hearts, not through our own paltry efforts, but through Him who was, is, and ever shall be, perfect and blameless. To HIm be all glory, honour, and praise!
Thursday, February 1, 2007
The Thirteenth Tale
I just finished a most remarkable book. Diane Setterfield's The Thirteeth Tale is simply a masterpiece. Published in 2006, it has the feel of a book from long ago -- beautifully written with a academic yet heartwrenching eye for detail. A first person narrator, who unravels a secret from her own past, is called to Yorkshire to write the biography of one of English's most prolific novelists. The story is strange, haunting, full of twists and turns, and even as the story unfolds, a body is discovered in the old burnt-out shell of the novelist's former home. Engaging the ideas of truth and trust, of passion and loss, of twinness and fame, this novel twists and turns its plot around and back into itself beautifully.
Highly readable, wonderfully mysterious, and heartwrenching in so many ways (I hate to reuse "heartwrenching" but it describes the book so well!), The Thirteenth Tale is a masterpiece that definitely deserved its rank on the New York Times Bestseller's List. For three months, I waited for this book in our county library queue, and this book was one of the few well worth the long wait. I found myself in tears several times as I read, so moving the characters were, their stories entertwining with sadness yet hope.
It's one of the few modern novels I highly, highly recommend.
Highly readable, wonderfully mysterious, and heartwrenching in so many ways (I hate to reuse "heartwrenching" but it describes the book so well!), The Thirteenth Tale is a masterpiece that definitely deserved its rank on the New York Times Bestseller's List. For three months, I waited for this book in our county library queue, and this book was one of the few well worth the long wait. I found myself in tears several times as I read, so moving the characters were, their stories entertwining with sadness yet hope.
It's one of the few modern novels I highly, highly recommend.
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