Climbs the child, confident,
up over breast, arm, shoulder;
while she, alarmed by his bold thrust
into her face, and the encircling hand,
looks out imploring fearfully
and, O, she cries, from her immeasurable eyes,
O how he clings, see how
he smothers every pore, like the soft
shining mistletoe to my black bark,
she says, I cannot breathe, my eyes
are aching so.

The child has overlaid us in our beds,
we cannot close our eyes,
his weight sits firmly,
fits over heart and lungs,
and choked we turn away
into the window of immeasurable dark
to shake off the insistent pushing warmth;
O how he cleaves, no peace
tonight my lady in your bower,
you, like us, restless with bruised eyes
and waking to

a shining cry on the black bark of sleep.

Winter 2011/2012

March 5, 2012

Tony SigThe laws of nature are a rock.
But rocks also wither away.
The water seeps into the cracks,
Freezes, expands, and hews a block
That falls — So nothing stone can stay.

Hiems est Glacialis Pax
As God himself took sabbath rest,
So cities need a time to sleep,
And country can’t work all year ’round.
It seems Autumn this year thought best
To hurry on, avoiding deep
Winter’s abiding voice, the Sound
Of which can call the World to cease:

Be still! O Streets, and join the growing hush.
Bow low! O Trees, under the heavy load
As snow moves in to cover Earth below
With thick and weighty air, as if to crush
All hopes of restless, moving, ceaseless, rush.

This year both Fall and Spring contrived
To steal away my Lady’s pride.
They sought in doing so to hold
At bay the threat of deathly mold.
The fools! Whoever heard new life
To rise immortal without strife?
Remember Eos asking Zeus
To make, undying, Tithonus?
She should have asked for endless youth!

A Lenten Prayer

February 25, 2012

Tony SigSpare not thy single-minded eye from me.
Deep-looking gaze the veil pierce and see
The soul of black,

Which I attempt to keep well hid from thee
And also from myself lest exposed be
The glaring lack.

Heed not the ringing cries,
The falt’ring groans, the longing eyes,
To be set free.

As when the sailors’ time
Had come to leave divine
Aea’s country,

And fearing Siren’s song, round back
Ulysses’ hand and foot to mast
With rope they lashed,

So bind me down upon your ash,
Never loosing bonds, though I ask,
Else I would dash.

Thus fixed, you have the right
To burn with cleansing light
Amassed debris.

For if myself I tried,
As Eustice clawed his hide,
Deformed by greed,

To tear much more than mere rapacity,
I’d certain, for want of will, miscarry,
Tired, spent, and slack.

O, that, transformed, I might from all sin flee
Into your patient love most joyfully
N’er to go back.

james

   

At the Still Point: A Literary Guide to Prayer in Ordinary Time

by Sarah Arthur

Paraclete Press, 2011

$16.99

++++

According to the infallible internet, Flannery O’Connor once wrote that,

“When a book leaves your hands, it belongs to God.  He may use it to save a few souls or to try a few others.  I think that for a writer to worry is to take over God’s business.”  

She was of course speaking of her own books, but the same could be said about both Sarah Arthur‘s writing, and that of the poets and authors she anthologizes in her new book, At the Still Point: A Literary Guide to Prayer in Ordinary Time, published last month by Paraclete Press (and also available here).

In what might be seen as a devotional for Christian English majors, Arthur has skillfully chosen poems and fragments of fiction that “sneak up” on her readers and cause them to drift (or tumble) into meditation, contemplation and prayer.  For each of the 29 weeks of Ordinary Time (the season of the church calendar between Pentecost and Advent), Arthur has provided us with a theme, an opening and closing prayer (usually a snippet of verse), a psalm and Scripture readings, and between 3 and 6 selections of literature, mainly from English and American authors (with a couple of predictable Russians, and a Pole).  The Scripture readings seem to show some relation to the Revised Common Lectionary, but Arthur states in her introduction that her 29 weekly sections are not arranged according to any lectionary and can theoretically be read in any order.  The lack of concrete connection with the lectionary is one of only two things about this book that annoy me, but I’ve been accused of being a liturgy snob before.

Her goal in selecting the readings is not to assault the reader with over-powering thematic overtures that tie neatly into the cut-and-dry, therapeutic Scripture readings.  This is no resource for those looking for poems to go along with their tidy, little 3-point sermons.  In her introduction she describes her chosen authors as those:

“…who have known the things of God, but speak in metaphor…In not stating out loud what they know, they have left much to our imaginations–which is a way of saying they have trusted the Holy Spirit.”

Arthur has found authors who were willing to give their books up to God to be used in unexpected, and maybe even frightening ways.

Arthur is up-front with the fact that even attentive and astute readers may not always immediately (or ever) understand the relevance that a particular selection has to the Scripture readings, or to the sometimes vague weekly themes.  All of this is refreshing for me.  If I wanted straight forward and overt, I’d be reading Oswald Chambers.  If I wanted pat answers, and black-and-white interpretations, I’d be reading John MacArthur (and subsequently stabbing myself in the eye).  I’d take reading Sarah Arthur’s eclectic band of poets and novelists over 99% of what passes for Christian devotional literature these days.

Which leads me to the selections themselves…which then leads me to air the second of my two complaints:  Where in the name of peafowl and horn-rimmed glasses is Flannery O’Connor?  Hot tar and molasses!  Of all the authors to overlook, why did it have to be that foxy Catholic lady from Georgia?

Other than that lacuna, Arthur does a pretty good job.  Having a Wheaton background, she can’t resist a healthy dose of C.S. Lewis, but she doesn’t over do it.  Perhaps because of her Presbyterian background, she favors George MacDonald.  Overall, she seems to be a raging anglophile (the teapot calling the teacup porcelain, I suppose) and consequently George Hebert, John Donne, John Keble, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Oscar Wilde, Evelyn Waugh, and an entire murmuration of English Romantics dominate.

As I alluded to before, she includes some obligatory Tolstoy and Dostoevsky passages, one of which is that beautiful section of The Brothers Karamozov where Aloyosha has a vision of the recently deceased Zossima.  My homeboy, Garrison Keillor, makes a populist/Lutheran offering, and on the Roman Catholic side of things we get G.K. Chesterton, Anne Rice, as well as SS. Francis, Teresa of Avila, and John of the Cross et al.

In a “Further Reading” section she includes some runners-up that I wish had made the cut (but no Ms. O’Connor, even here!)  These include  Grahame Greene (RCC), Frederick Buechner (Presbyterian), Charles Williams (Anglican), Wendell Berry (Baptist), and Chaim Potok (Jewish).  Oh well. I guess it’s always good to keep back some A-listers, just in case there’s a sequel.

Maybe what I have most to thank Arthur for is the introduction to several contemporary poets of whom I had never heard, and who deeply impressed me; Robert Siegel and Elizabeth B. Rooney, especially.  Here’s one of the a latter’s:

I saw the world end yesterday!

A flight of angels tore

Its cover off and Heaven lay

Where earth had been before

I walked about the countryside

And saw a cricket pass

Then, bending closer, I espied

An ecstasy of grass.

All in all, At the Still Point is outstanding; a veritable cornucopia of literary spirituality.  Arthur’s introduction is helpful, light, and intimate, and despite the afore-mentioned Flannerylessness, she is an expert at choosing passages that delight and surprise.  As I re-read this book throughout Ordinary Time, I trust and pray that the Holy Spirit will use some of these passages to save my soul, and to try it; or–to paraphrase old Clive Staples–I hope the God uses these passages to baptize my imagination, immersing it in the surprising vision of His Kingdom. Lord knows all of us who call ourselves followers of Christ could use a little more of that sacrament.

Tony SigThis semester I am taking both Greek poetry and Latin poetry.  For Greek we are running through Homer’s Odyssey and in Latin, Virgil’s Aeneid.  I thought it would be fun to post a few resources I’ve found quite helpful for reading them in case there were some readers who thought running through them would be fun.  And indeed they are fun!  I’ll admit I continue to find Latin hard to deal with, which is counter intuitive as it is clearly the simpler language, but it just hasn’t ‘clicked’ for me yet even though I’m in my fourth semester.  So I tend to get frustrated with Virgil because sometimes I feel like he’s keeping me from reading my Greek.  But that’s not always the case, two scenes in particular were a blast to read; the one where Neptune rebukes the winds and the one where Laocoon urges the Trojans not to take the horse into the city and throws a spear into the side of it.

At least one thing about Homer is that he is not as transparently idealogical as Virgil-the-court-poet giving a founding myth for Rome and incorporating some blatantly political similes in the mix.  Homer uses similes in a very different way, a way far more whimsical and random.  For instance in that Neptune scene I mentioned, Virgil compares Neptune calming the sea to “some man” who quells a revolutionary riot (the Romans have never liked res novae have they? :) ), but in book VI, Homer compares Nausicaa playing ball with her handmaidens to Artemis dancing upon the mountains, chasing deer and boar with the nymphs dedicated to Zeus, which delights her mother.  Homer, too, has a crapload of archaisms in his work, words and phrases that were so old apparently he didn’t even know what they meant, some of which may have gone back to pre-Indo-European languages – those especially connected to places.

Alexander Pope once said “Homer makes us hearers, but Virgil leaves us readers,” and that at least is true.  Homer’s work has its roots and form in oral poetry, but Virgil’s is a literary work;  Homer most often can finish a thought per line of hexameter but Virgil sometimes makes you wait a few lines before you get the verb – which is perfectly normal Latin but it makes for a heady kind of poetry.  You have to connect more dots that way.  Still, I’m excited to continue with both of them.

If you are already confident with the languages then you can do no better value-wise than getting the Oxford Classical Text of both.  Not only are they very affordable for a basic critical text they are housed in a classy high-quality blue hardcover of a more manageable size than the Loebs.  The more expensive paperback Teubner editions don’t strike me as worth the effort unless the OCT in question is woefully out of date.  I should note, though, that the prefaces are in Latin!   A huge plus with Virgil is that his is a single volume that contains all of his works.  Homer’s Odyssey is in two volumes (I and II), as is his Illiad (I and II); his hymns to the gods and fragments complete the five volumes of his total works.

If you’re rusty on the languages and/or want a one stop shop you could instead get the Loeb editions as they contain an edited original language text with facing English translation as well as a very helpful introduction, minor commentary and index; but at least for Homer I have another English translation that I want to recommend, plus the textual apparatus in the OCT is more complete than the that in the Loeb.  That said, the Loebs of course are great and scholarly… an extended apparatus is really only for the very serious scholar of classics who would have the wherewithal to make textual decisions.  I only wish the Loeb’s would make their books a bit bigger.

The text we’ve been assigned for Virgil is an edited and expanded edition of the famous work of Clyde Pharr.  It’s a huge help, indeed sometimes too much of a help!  The notes are helpful, the more sparsely used vocabulary is glossed on the page, and there are lists for vocabulary memorization according to how many times a given work appears in the books examined.  This is a ‘standard’ intermediate text of Virgil.

For Homer, we’ve been assigned the W. B. Stanford text out on Bristol.  The introduction is just great and includes historical and morphological notes as well as an explanation of dactylic hexameter.  Unfortunately I’ve found the endnotes far less helpful as a general rule; they often interact with other secondary literature of which I have no knowledge, besides, the grammar is most often straightforward, what takes time with Homer is the endless looking up of vocabulary.  Which led me to find these amazing books (books VI-VIII & IX-XII) put out by a Phd who teaches high school kids the classics, Dr. Geoffrey Steadman.  He takes pedagogical style from Pharr and uses it for Homer.  So on the left side of the open book there are 20 lines of text and on the side opposite, minor grammatical notes and most importantly, all the non-major vocabulary glossed with stats on how often the word appears.  So instead of spending 80% of your time getting vocab, you can get more familiar with the text.  I’ve found his book absolutely essential.  But I should note that Steadman self-publishes because nobody seems interested in his texts, so there will be minor mistakes here and there, but I’m able to catch them quickly.  There are two things which would perfect his work, 1)  A more extensive introduction such as Stanford’s, and 2) Grammatical references to Smyth’s Greek Grammar as in the Mather-Hewitt Xenophon text. Steadman has also made all his books available in PDF form for free on this site, though he asks that if you use them often perhaps consider purchasing a book to support his work.  Finally, in case you didn’t know, there is a lexicon dedicated exclusively to Homeric use that one ought to have.

Finally, there is the Perseus website – an indispensable resource for studying ancient literature in the original langages.  You can find most of the standard classics there.  The texts are morphologically tagged so if you click on a word it will parse it for you and give you statistics for where it turns up.  These statistics can be used to compile helpful vocab lists as well.

james

NOTE: It’s Lent, people; it’s supposed to be depressing.

 

No one remembers

When the last rainbow appeared.

Was it after that last oil spill?

The one that finally did the ocean in?

Was it after the last mountain was leveled?

Or when the last hill was slit open?

When the last of the mineral wealth was stolen?

Was it after the last forest was paved over?

After the last marsh was converted to overflow parking?

Or was it just before that delicate, unknown moment

When the scales were tipped ever so slightly,

And the air became so pregnant with poison

That that very last persistent little bird

Could not lift her petrol-slick wings in flight?

When did we break that age-old treaty

Between God and all humankind–

When God promised not to destroy the earth?

When did we take it upon ourselves

To do that which God would not do?

The last rainbow happened decades ago.

“Advent Calendar”

December 5, 2009

He will come like last leaf’s fall.
One night when the November wind
has flayed the trees to bone, and earth
wakes choking on the mould,
the soft shroud’s folding.

He will come like frost.
One morning when the shrinking earth
opens on mist, to find itself
arrested in the net
of alien, sword-set beauty.

He will come like dark.
One evening when the bursting red
December sun draws up the sheet
and penny-masks its eye to yield
the star-snowed fields of sky.

He will come, will come,
will come like crying in the night,
like blood, like breaking,
as the earth writhes to toss him free.
He will come like child.

- Rowan Williams

*picture – Tom Graves*

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