Feast Day of Saint Columba

The icon, which is from St. Columba Orthodox Church in Lafayette, Colorado, tells the story of the life of Columba. Scroll down on the site to read the descriptions of the events in in his life that the icon depicts.


Saint Columba (7 December 521 - 9 June 597) is sometimes referred to as Columba of Iona, or, in Old Irish, as Colm Cille or Columcille (meaning "Dove of the church"). He was the outstanding figure among the Irish Gaelic missionary monks who introduced Christianity to Kingdom of the Picts during the Early Medieval period.

From Wiki

St Columba is a saint who still, after fourteen hundred years, exerts an appeal upon our imaginations. Born in Ireland, in Donegal in the year 521, he was of the blood royal, and might indeed have become High King of Ireland had he not chosen to be a priest. His vital, vigorous personality has given rise to many legends, and it is a little hard to sift fact from what is more probably fiction. We do know that he was a man of tremendous energy, probably somewhat headstrong in his youth, but with his tendency to violence curbed by a gentle magnanimity.

....

Of all the Celtic saints in Scotland, Columba's life is much the best documented, because manuscripts of his Life, written by St Adamnan, one of his early successors as abbot of Iona, have survived. Iona itself remains a place of the greatest beauty, a serene island set in seas that take on brilliant colors in the sunshine, recalling the life and background of this remarkable man whose mission led to the conversion of Scotland and of the north of England, and indeed carried its influence far further afield. It later became the site of a Benedictine Abbey and of a little cathedral. These were dismantled by the Scottish reformers in 1561, and part of Columba's prophecy was fulfilled:

In Iona of my heart, Iona of my love,
Instead of monks' voices shall be lowing of cattle,
But ere the world come to an end
Iona shall be as it was.

Columba was a poet as well as a man of action. Some of his poems in both Latin and Gaelic have come down to us, and they reveal him as a man very sensitive to the beauty of his surroundings, as well as always, in St Adamnan's phrase, 'gladdened in his inmost heart by the joy of the Holy Spirit.' He died in the year 597.

From the Catholic Information Network.

PRAYER

O God, who by the preaching of your blessed servant Columba caused the light of the Gospel to shine in Scotland: Grant, we pray, that, having his life and labors in remembrance, we may show our thankfulness to you by following the example of his zeal and patience; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

NOTE: Padre Mickey has won the posting race with a lovely tribute to St. Columba with three icons instead of one, but none of his tell the story of Columba's life. So there.

He also appears to have written his biography himself, instead of cutting and pasting as I did, which is to his credit.

Archbishop Williams Speaks Again

Time has an interview with Archbishop Williams. Fr. Jake has an interesting discussion going at his blog about the interview.

I won't say much, except to repeat what I said at the end of my comment there:

Let's hope that during his time of seclusion and study at Georgetown, that he receives a good lesson from Lady Sophia.


UPDATE: Roger, in the comments, says I should explain Lady Sophia. The book of "The Wisdom of Solomon" is not included in the Hebrew canon in the Old Testament, and is placed in The Apocrypha in the Protestant biblical canon. Readings from Wisdom are included in the Lectionary in the Episcopal Church.

"Sophia" is the Greek word for "wisdom". Since wisdom is personified in the book and is always referred to as feminine, the personification has come to be called "Lady Sophia" or Lady Wisdom". There are those who claim Lady Sophia for Gnosticism, but I don't use the name to refer to anything Gnostic.

The best way I can think of to describe Lady Sophia is to allow words from the book itself and from "Proverbs" to speak the description:


Wisdom of Solomon 6:12-16(NRSV)

Description of Wisdom

Wisdom is radiant and unfading,
and she is easily discerned by those who love her,
and is found by those who seek her.
She hastens to make herself known to those who desire her.
One who rises early to seek her will have no difficulty,
for she will be found sitting at the gate.
To fix one's thought on her is perfect understanding,
and one who is vigilant on her account will soon be free from care,
because she goes about seeking those worthy of her,
and she graciously appears to them in their paths,
and meets them in every thought


Wisdom of Solomon 7:25-30

For she is a breath of the power of God,
and a pure emanation of the glory of the Almighty;
therefore nothing defiled gains entrance into her.
For she is a reflection of eternal light,
a spotless mirror of the working of God,
and an image of his goodness.
Although she is but one, she can do all things,
and while remaining in herself, she renews all things;
in every generation she passes into holy souls
and makes them friends of God, and prophets;
for God loves nothing so much as the person who lives with wisdom.
She is more beautiful than the sun,
and excels every constellation of the stars.
Compared with the light she is found to be superior,
for it is succeeded by the night,
but against wisdom evil does not prevail.


Proverbs 3:13-18

The True Wealth

Happy are those who find wisdom,
and those who get understanding,
for her income is better than silver,
and her revenue better than gold.
She is more precious than jewels,
and nothing you desire can compare with her.
Long life is in her right hand;
in her left hand are riches and honour.
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
and all her paths are peace.
She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her;
those who hold her fast are called happy.


Proverbs 7:4-5

Say to wisdom, ‘You are my sister’,
and call insight your intimate friend,
that they may keep you from the loose woman,
from the adulteress with her smooth words.

6-09-07 - 11.15 AM

Cavett On Writing Comedy

Since my husband is retired from the university here and retains a university email address, we have free access to the New York Times "TimesSelect", since they have opened the site to educators - a smart move on their part. I was not going to pay for the privilege of reading the material there, but I like having access to Paul Krugman and Bob Herbert and other features like a series of diaries written by troops who have served in Iraq.

In addition, Dick Cavett writes an online blog for "TimesSelect". Cavett's show was a must-see for me back in the day. He recently wrote a post titled "No Gagging The Gags". I can't give those of you who have access to "TimesSelect" a link for the post, because the link is operative for only a limited period, and the time has expired. I wish everyone could read the whole post.

Besides being a "three-time Emmy winner", Cavett wants us to know that he was a "gold-medal pommel horse state gymnastics champion in Nebraska." The feat that won the medal for him was his "triple-rear dismount". He says that was "the hardest thing I've ever done in my life."

On comedy writing:

Talking about comedy writing last time, I omitted an interesting phenomenon thereto: the fact that the gag-writer’s brain often works independently of his conscious mind. (Bolding mine) Sometimes alarmingly so. Because the topical joke-writer’s livelihood depends on his ability to crank out — if the show is on daily — good, current stuff, fast and for immediate use. And after a great deal of this, there’s something that develops and takes on a life of its own.

The late Steve Allen noted that the more comedy you write, the more you can write. It happened to me. Thrown instantly into the front lines, as I was, of daily writing for Jack Paar on “The Tonight Show” — a task nothing at Yale prepares you for — it seemed that each day of the week got a bit easier. Monday hardest, Friday a breeze. Friday’s jokes seemed to write themselves. Rust set in on the weekend and again, Monday wasn’t easy.

With respect to Cavett's statement about the joke writer's brain functioning outside of the conscious mind, I think it's true. I've made a funny or two in my time that seemed to come from nowhere. I'm intrigued by the workings of the brain with respect to the business of making jokes.

I think some are born with a greater capacity to come with original wit, but, according to Cavett, practice of the skill counts. The humor flows easily, when you keep your skills honed.

The weirdness that I’m getting at is most likely to happen to the experienced, professional comedy writer who, thanks to punishing practice, is in splendid condition. It’s a bit scary and it strikes on those unfortunate occasions that arch Chinese proverb calls “interesting times.”

If there’s a catastrophe — plane crash, miners trapped, kidnapping, ghastly murder — writer-brain kicks in by itself and makes jokes about it. The machinery starts without you; you hear it in your head and you feel ashamed.

....

On Memorial Day we were treated to the sight of what will surely be looked back on at some future time as the absolute, irreducible, symbolic zenith of hypocrisy: George Bush at Arlington. Whatever remains of my own joke-writing muscles produced, all on its own, a reporter asking, “Which do you prefer, Mr. President? Honoring our dead soldiers, or causing them?”


I miss his shows, but the good news is that they are collected on DVD now. You might want to look at an earlier post that I wrote about Cavett's blog.

On Turning Another Corner

We have turned another corner in Iraq. The number of deaths from the war has now passed 3500, standing at 3503, with 26 dead so far in the 7 days of the month of June.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.

Heavenly Father, pour out your healing love in abundance upon the families and friends of those who have died and upon the wounded and their families and friends. Heal them in spirit, soul and body. Give them strength and courage to go forward, and above all, O Lord God, give them your peace that passes understanding to keep their minds and hearts.


UPDATE: In the words of Willy Loman's wife, Linda, "So attention must be paid."

Great Movie In The Works

Ed, a simple village organist, who can't make up his mind if he's Presbyterian or Episcopalian, or something else entirely, which he calls Eclectic - I never heard of that denomination - and who lives in the small village of Los Angeles, which, if I remember correctly, is in California, has news of plans for a movie that will have many of us quite excited in anticipation.

I hope that you won't think me immodest if I reveal that I shall have a small part in the production. Not that you will see me in the movie, for my work is strictly behind the scenes.

Go read all about it, but have your dictionary handy, because Ed uses lots of big words.

Afternoon At The Movies

Last week, I took my two grandchildren to the movies. Among their choices were "Shrek the Third", the new "Pirates of the Caribbean", and the new "Spider Man". They wanted to see "Shrek".

Earlier, when I visited at Eileen's place, I noted that she had taken her children to see "Shrek". Her trip seems to have been less eventful than mine, or there's something she's not telling us. Eileen will empathize with my adventure, if no one else does.

When I arrived their house to pick up the children, they were both carrying blankets - not full-sized bed blankets, but throws. I asked, "Why the blankets?" "It's cold at the movies." OK, it is cold in the mulitplex cinemas, so off we go. Think of the energy that could be saved by turning the thermostats up a few degrees.

After we took the baby sitter home and reached the theater, we were running a little late. My grandson, who is seven, was complaining that his blanket was not "folded neatly". I worked with it a little, but not to his satisfaction, and he continued to whine.

I had purchased our tickets online, but I had to get to the machine to get them out. While I was standing there, not getting the procedure right, with my 11-year-old granddaughter coaching me until I finally got it right, I turned around to see that my grandson had spread his blanket on the floor and was again trying to get it "folded neatly". I tried to help him, and we moved on to the concession stand.

My grandson was still complaining as we stood in line, and once again spread his blanket out on the floor trying to get it "folded neatly". No matter what we did with the blanket, the edges curled up and were not neat. I helped him again, and then it was our turn at the counter. His first two choices for candy were out of stock, and he froze in dismay. People standing behind us, were getting impatient so I said firmly, "Pick something," which he finally did. I began to get a hint that it was not going to be an easy afternoon.

Each child was now equipped with candy, popcorn and a frozen goody. My grandson's popcorn spilled and half emptied the bag, and he was still whining about his candy, because it was not what he wanted. In the meantime, he unfolded his blanket and draped it around his shoulders, dragging it alongside and behind. I moved ahead to go to our theater, but my grandson stood immobile, blocking the way for the folks behind him. I physically moved him out of the line, but he refused to come along with us. I told his sister, "Let's go. We're going into the theater." We started to move, and he finally followed us, stepping and tripping on his blanket.

When we reached the theater, the movie had already started, and now I WAS BLIND. My eyes take quite a long time to adjust to going from light to dark. There was not much light from the screen, and I could just barely make out my two grandchildren, so I followed them. When we were about halfway up the steps, I could no longer see them. I stood for a minute, and then turned and felt my way back down the stairs. I was beginning to see a little and spotted three seats. I sat down, having no idea where the children were, praying that they would find me. They did. My grandson was still whining about the blanket and the candy, and standing up, blocking the view of the folks behind. I said firmly, "Sit down and be quiet, or they're going to throw you out of the theater." He sat down, and I did not hear a peep out of him throughout the movie, thanks be to God.

As I thought about the people watching me stumble up and down the stairs, perhaps some of the same ones who saw me with my grandson and the blanket spread on the floor and the scene at the concession stand, I wondered what they were thinking about me. Probably something like, "Why do they let her roam free?"

I enjoyed the movie. I found it sweet and funny, with wit that was probably above the heads of many of the children. My favorite character was Merlin, whom you see pictured above, but only from the rear.

My grandson has been diagnosed with ADHD and is on medication for the condition. It seems to me that he could also have a touch of OCD. This is strictly Dr. Mimi's diagnosis, but it would explain his having to get things just right. His parents have recently divorced, so along with his other problems, his life has changed rather drastically.

As I started the car, a fight erupted in the back seat, because my granddaughter put her foot on "his side" of the car, which did not suit my grandson at all. Pushing ensued, followed by a smack from his sister and his crying loudly. I put the car back in park and got out. My patience was wearing thin. I took hold of his shirt, and told him, "We are going to the beach in a few weeks. It's a long ride there, and you're going to have to learn how to ride in the car and behave yourself, or we're going to leave you home," - an empty threat, most certainly. How am I doing, Dennis? The rest of the ride home was quiet.

Feast Day of St. Boniface, Bishop And Martyr

I just knew that El Padre would do a lovely post on St. Boniface. You can visit Padre Mickey's Dance Party to read the biography and see the beautiful icon of the saint.

Fighting Terror

From the Baton Rouge Advocate today:

Jared Crouch, 21, a cavalry scout with a Stryker brigade out of Fort Lewis, Wash., had only been stationed in Iraq for a little more than a month, his mother, Kathy Rushing [Jared's mother], said.

....

Kathy Rushing said her younger son, John Crouch, a reservist with a maintenance company stationed in Iraq, would try to join his brother’s body on the flight back to the U.S.

Jared, who is from Zachary, Louisiana, was one of 14 American troops killed this past weekend. I pray for Jared and extend my prayers and sympathy to his family and friends.

In addition to the cost in lives, approaching the 4000 mark, and wounded, numbering 34,000, some with terrible wounds, loss of limbs, blindness, head injuries, serious mental health problems, we are spending 2 billion dollars per week on the war. Numbers of dead and wounded from Iraq Casualty Count.

I picked up this bit of information at ICC, also: Died of Self-Inflicted wounds - 111.

That's to say nothing of the hundreds of thousands of Iraqi dead, and numbers of Iraqi wounded beyond counting. For numbers of Iraqi dead, take the number 655,000 from an article in the Washington Post, or these numbers: minimum - 64776, maximum - 70934, of civilian casualties from Iraqi Body Count. The Washington Post piece says:

It is more than 20 times the estimate of 30,000 civilian deaths that President Bush gave in a speech in December. It is more than 10 times the estimate of roughly 50,000 civilian deaths made by the British-based Iraq Body Count research group.

On the very same front page in the Advocate is an Associated Press wire story with the headline: "Informants gaining importance in foiling terrorists plots in U.S."

This story concerns the foiled plot to bomb JFK airport and "a jet fuel pipeline that runs through populous residential neighborhoods to the airport."

New York - A convicted drug dealer who agreed to pose as a wannabe terrorist among a group now accused of plotting to blow up John F. Kennedy International Airport secretly fed information to federal investigators in exchange for a lighter sentence.

....

Four Muslim men are accused of plotting to use explosives to destroy a jet fuel pipeline that runs through populous residential neighborhoods to the airport. It is believed they intended to kill thousands of people and trigger an economic catastrophe.

The link leads to the Cleveland Plain Dealer, because the Advocate does not have an online link to the AP story.

I assume the headline was written in Baton Rouge, and it led me to the conclusion that it was just plain wrong. Intelligence gathering has always been important in foiling terrorist plots, but whether the Bush maladministration is aware of that, I don't know, nor do I know if the FBI and the CIA receive the proper amount of funding to get good intelligence on impending plots.

However, I do believe that we could improve our intelligence capabilities on much less than 2 billion dollars a week. But, no. We're spending that amount of money fighting in Iraq, at great cost in lives, and loss of limbs and quality of life for those who survive. We make these sacrifices to fight in a country that never attacked us, never intended to attack us, and is now a breeding ground for terrorists and an inspiration to would-be terrorists around the world, who are angry about what we are doing in Iraq and, as a result, want to do us harm.

Sometimes I wonder why I bother with this kind of post, because it takes considerable time to do the links and the quotes, and I know I'm preaching to the choir, but seeing these two stories together, one below the other, I felt compelled to say something.

Perhaps, I'd have done better and saved time by simply quoting these words:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of "Spiritus Mundi"
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming"

Trinity - IV - Love

A short meditation posted by Vicki K. Black on Speaking to the Soul at the Episcopal Café.

God the Trinity of Love

Daily Reading for June 4

God is Love, Lover, and Beloved.

An ancient Sufi mantra.

Trinity Sunday III

Today at church, our first reading for Trinity Sunday was Isaiah 6:1-8.

In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And one called to another and said:
‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;
the whole earth is full of his glory.’ Isaiah 6:1-3

The second reading was Revelation 4:1-11.

After this I looked, and there in heaven a door stood open! And the first voice, which I had heard speaking to me like a trumpet, said, ‘Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.’ At once I was in the spirit, and there in heaven stood a throne, with one seated on the throne! And the one seated there looks like jasper and cornelian, and around the throne is a rainbow that looks like an emerald. Around the throne are twenty-four thrones, and seated on the thrones are twenty-four elders, dressed in white robes, with golden crowns on their heads. Coming from the throne are flashes of lightning, and rumblings and peals of thunder, and in front of the throne burn seven flaming torches, which are the seven spirits of God; and in front of the throne there is something like a sea of glass, like crystal.

Around the throne, and on each side of the throne, are four living creatures, full of eyes in front and behind: the first living creature like a lion, the second living creature like an ox, the third living creature with a face like a human face, and the fourth living creature like a flying eagle. And the four living creatures, each of them with six wings, are full of eyes all around and inside. Day and night without ceasing they sing,

‘Holy, holy, holy,
the Lord God the Almighty,
who was and is and is to come.’

And whenever the living creatures give glory and honour and thanks to the one who is seated on the throne, who lives for ever and ever, the twenty-four elders fall before the one who is seated on the throne and worship the one who lives for ever and ever; they cast their crowns before the throne, singing,

‘You are worthy, our Lord and God,
to receive glory and honour and power,
for you created all things,
and by your will they existed and were created.’

The imagery in these passages causes my imagination to run wild. I want to see them in a painting.
In the first, the Lord sits on the lofty throne with his train filling the temple, and the six-winged seraphs hover with their wings positioned just so. This could be painted.

In the second passage, the imagery is much more complicated and detailed. The one on the throne looks like cornelian and jasper? How would you paint that? A rainbow like an emerald? The elders in the white robes and golden crowns, the flashings of lightening, the flaming torches, and the see of glass would be easy - if you were an artist. The four living creatures, like to a lion, an ox, a human, and an eagle, with all the eyes, inside and out, each with six wings - that would be a challenge.

I'd like to see an attempt. Has it perhaps been done? Is there a half-mad mystic of an artist who tried? Someone like William Blake, perhaps?

The imagery of the twenty-four elders falling down and casting their crowns before the Lord has, for some time, signified to me the proper attitude of heart when we gather together to worship God.

To finish off, I'm stealing this poem on the Trinity by John Donne from Aghaveagh at The Moon By Night:

BATTER my heart, three person'd God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee,'and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt towne, to'another due, 5
Labour to'admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearely'I love you,'and would be loved faine,
But am betroth'd unto your enemie: 10
Divorce mee,'untie, or breake that knot againe;
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you'enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.

The final three lines are magnificent.

Aghaveagh says of the poet:

Today is the feast day of John Donne, priest. I have always felt an affinity to Donne. For him, belief is a turbulent, violent maelstrom. Whether tumbling into lustful union with his mistress, or wrestling with his faith, his is, as he puts it, a "holy discontent."

Surely, this post must appear to be the ranting of a half-mad (not holy) discontent.