November 03, 2009

Spanning the Globe to Bring You the Constant Variety of Posts

Literature reconnects me [to God], but at a further remove than does scripture reading and the saints. I was thinking about getting myself something that would help this problem. The other day I saw an ESV bible (I don't care for this translation) that was printed in a way to leave about and inch to two inch border on each page to record notes, etc. I thought that if I had some direct connection to writing it would help... The reading may not bring me close, but because I've chosen to write about it, the writing in itself does. Writing really is a form of prayer for me. Obviously one can write and not be praying; however, most of the time I'm writing I am raising my mind out of the miasma of self interest and into a different realm, a realm always tinged with God and impinged upon by God--but not the same realm of more direct prayer or writing more directly about God.- Steven of Flos Carmeli (email)

I would love to digress into the usual discussion of Galileo, what some seem to think is the ultimate "proof" of the stupidity of the Catholic Church when it comes to Science. Oh . . . except that the Church was right when it came to the science: Galileo's "proof" from the tides had a math error, and he neglected to hear from Kepler about some new data which demonstrated that the planets moved in ellipses, not circles. (We call them Kepler's laws, not Galileo's!) And yet, Galileo was right about the theology, because he quoted St. Augustine about the right use of sacred scripture . . . Whenever someone says "Galileo" and moans, say "Pasteur" or "Volta" or "Ampere" or "Piazzi" or "Galvani" or "Fresnel" or "Agnesi" or "Hermite" or "St. Albert the Great" . . . and LAUGH! - Dr. Thursday of "The Blog of the American Chesterton Society" via Sancta Sanctis since I can't spell Enbreth…

From a Taki's Magazine column, quoting someone named Hugo Rifkind : Mel Gibson gets drunk, says a few stupid anti-Jewish things, apologizes more times than he's had hangovers, and is vilified by Tinseltown. Roman Polanski "shags an actual child, and they love him." - Dylan of "dark speech upon the harp"

For all its immortal grandeur, the Fifth is not even Beethoven’s best symphony. Neither is it his Ninth. The great composer’s finest work, believe it or not, rests largely ignored halfway between the two: the 7th, in A major. If you don’t believe me, believe Ludwig van Beethoven. He called the Seventh his “most excellent symphony." - R. Levin

'My god,’ said Geoff, ‘so it’s true. We hold in our very hands the original draft of the hitherto unknown third treaty of the 1648 Peace of Westphalia signed by the Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand III himself.’ ‘Yes,’ confirmed Sally. ‘Who would have thought when we set off this morning for this remote Swiss village that we would end the day in possession of the very document which marked the birth of modern European statehood?’

‘Certainly not me!’ laughed Geoff.

’Nor me!’ guffawed Sally.

‘And to think,’ Geoff extemporised, ‘the Ratification of the Treaty of M√ľnster occurred exactly three hundred and sixty-one years ago today!’ - from post titled "Present your research in the form of dialogue" on blog "How to Write Badly Well"

Hearing nuns' confessions is like being stoned to death with popcorn. - Servant of God Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen

In a world in which most people seem to expect to have college age children when in their 50s and being "father of the bride" in their sixties -- there seems little precedent for someone whose children will range form 27 to 20 when he turns 50 is supposed to do with the rest of his life. In a sense, it's rather exhilarating. Uncharted territory. Age-ward ho! Yet because it's uncharted, one can't shake the odd feeling that pretty soon all the path will be covered, and one will be left standing around saying, "Well. Here we are. Where are we anyway?" - Darwin Catholic

Come forth from the holy place,
Sweet Child,
Come from the quiet dark
Where virginal heartbeats
Tick your moments.
Come away from the red music
Of Mary's veins.
Come out from the Tower of David
Sweet Child,
From the House of Gold.
Leave your lily-cloister,
Leave your holy mansion,
Quit your covenant ark.
O Child, be born!
Be born, sweet Child,
In our unholy hearts.

- excerpt of "Advent Summons" by Sr. Mary Francis, P.C.

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