Brokeback Valley

 

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“In the world it is called Tolerance, but in hell it is called Despair, the sin that believes in nothing, cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing, interferes with nothing, enjoys nothing, hates nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and remains alive because there is nothing for which it will die.” Dorothy L. Sayers

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“Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  Jesus

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THOU hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and Death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
I dare not move my dim eyes any way;
Despair behind, and Death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.
Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee
By Thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour myself I can sustain.
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart

John Donne, The Holy Sonnets I.

THE ‘FIFTH’ GOSPEL?


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Japan, Bach and Jesus:

http://www.univforum.org/pdf/J_S_bach_in_Japan.pdf

William H. Johnson

Mount Calvary by Wiiliam H. Johson, 1944

(The bright coloring used in the painting reveals the promise of the resurrection.)

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Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side by John Donne

Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
Who could do no iniquity hath died:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews’ impiety:
They killed once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
God clothed himself in vile man’s flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.

Myth Born as Fact

“The heart of Christianity is a myth which is also a fact. The old myth of the Dying God, without ceasing to be myth, comes down from the heaven of legend and imagination to the earth of history. It happens — at a particular date, in a particular place, followed by definable historical consequences. We pass from a Balder or an Osiris, dying nobody knows when or where, to a historical Person crucified (it is all in order) under Pontius Pilate. By becoming fact it does not cease to be myth: that is the miracle.”

From:

Myth became fact, essay published in God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics, C. S. Lewis

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Art by Carol Bomer

 UNTIL SHILOH COMES (36″ X 36″ giclee on canvas)

 http://www.carolbomer.com/

UltraSound

UltraSound

  

Look! Joseph!  Look!

Space and time converge

In my belly!

_

Test.

Submission:

_

The Three-in-One now resides

Etched within a black and white sonogram:

A baby (no storm in a tea cup!)!

See the heart beating? The limbs akimbo?

“Put your hand on my side, Thomas.”

Can you feel the sound waves of My Being: Your God and My God immersed in time?

Yes! I feel it!

A kick!

A belly full of kenosis!

Fetal tissue,

Hanging on limbs –

The weight of glory descending down –

Soon will suffer evil

To save hoary Adam,

Banishing the body’s self-absorption called Death

From the garden and

For all.

(A womb may hold Him;  A tomb can not.)

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© Sally Paradise, 2010, All Rights Reserved

Alvin Plantinga & atheism’s arguments

Henryk Górecki: Symphony No. 3 “Sorrowful Songs”

Song for Athene – Sir John Tavener (1993)

Miserere Mei Deus – Gregorio Allegri (1630)

Nobel Prize in Literature 2010: Mario Vargas Llosa

“We would be worse than we are without the good books we read, more conformist, not as restless, more submissive, and the critical spirit, the engine of progress, would not even exist.  Like writing, reading is a protest against the insufficiencies of life.  When we look in fiction for what is missing in life, we are saying, with no need to say it or even to know it, that life as it is does not satisfy our thirst for the absolute – the foundation of the human condition – and should be better.  We invent fictions in order to live somehow the many lives we would like to lead when we barely have one at our disposal.” [emphasis mine]

Quote from:

Mario Vargas Llosa’s Nobel Lecture, given December 7th, 2010.