Learning to Fly

I've heard it said
    That some birds, fleet and swift-feathered,
         Have wings of such unspeakable genius
             That, standing in a mistral wind,
         All they must do is spread their wings
    And up they rise, like dazzled pieces of the sky,
Without a flap, a cry, a slight exertion.

Lord, sometimes I feel
    That that was me, in the wild romance
        Of youthful faith, with all its breathless zeal--
            A prayer, a thought, a single moment,
        Could launch me whirling straight into joy,
    The region of Thy glory, ineffable, immense,
Without a doubt, a labor, a spark of heartache.

But there are other birds, too--
    Incarnations of earth and lake and tree,
        Who take to the sky with thunderous work,
            The torment of a hundred wingbeats
        Raking the wind with fierce assaults
    Until it lifts them up, grudging in submission,
To bear them to a better clime.

Today, sweet Lord, I am the second bird--
    Where prayer, contentment, mystic bliss,
        Seem like a strange and foreign element,
            Wherein I can gain a momentary access
        By herculean labors of ascetic toil alone;
    And even then, I know I'm destined down--
Back down to earth from which I toiled to rise.

But I know that earth, that lake, that tree,
    I know it better than I ever knew before:
        The exultations of youthful faith had wings,
            But knew not whence its flight made rise;
        The consolations of ungrounded bliss,
    While sweet, could not fly endlessly so high
Without the solid strength of a launching-place.

Now I stand, firm on the ancient, gracious rock,
    And know that I am a thing of earth,
        Of water, stone, and tree...but still:
            A thing designed to ride the lofty skies.
        I know that I must learn to fly,
    Upborne by grace, by toil, by discipline,
Until I ride the zephyr winds to Thee.

Photo of the Week

Lord, you have been our dwelling place
    throughout all generations.
Before the mountains were born
    or you brought forth the whole world,
    from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
                 - Psalm 90:1-2

Quote of the Week

"Most of all, perhaps, we need intimate knowledge of the past. Not that the past has any magic about it, but because we cannot study the future, and yet need something to set against the present, to remind us that the basic assumptions have been quite different in different periods and that much which seems certain to the uneducated is merely temporary fashion. A man who has lived in many places is not likely to be deceived by the local errors of his native village; the scholar has lived in many times and is therefore in some degree immune from the great cataract of nonsense that pours from the press and the microphone of his own age.”
 
- C. S. Lewis, from his essay “Learning in War-Time"

(Painting: "Gothic Window," by Ramon Lopez Redondo, 19th cent.)

Saturday Synaxis

O Lord our God, grant us grace to desire you with a whole heart, that so desiring you we may seek and find you, and so finding you may love you, and loving you may hate those sins which separate us from you, for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen.

              - Anselm 

Benediction

Here's a quick little poem-prayer I wrote back when I was in college:

Benediction

May the peace of Christ be with you,

      In your comings and in your goings.

May the True Spirit direct the journeying of your heart,

      And may His loving care enfold you.

May the Living God be your shield on the day of battle,

      And may He defend you with His strong right arm.

Now and always, wherever you go.

Now, and always, wherever He leads you.

                                    Amen.

Photo of the Week

You, O Lord, are a shield around me,
    my glory, and the lifter of my head.
                  - Psalm 3:3

Quote of the Week

"When I think about atheist friends...they seem to me like people who have no ear for music, or who have never been in love.... These unbelievers are simply missing out on something that is not difficult to grasp. Perhaps it is too obvious to understand: obvious, as lovers feel it was obvious that they should have come together, or obvious as the final resolution of a fugue."


- A. N. Wilson, contemporary scholar-writer, from "Why I Believe Again"

(Painting: "The Triumph of Faith," by Charles Le Brun, c.1660) 

Saturday Synaxis

 (Mosaic of Christ Pantocrator, Ravenna, Italy, 6th cent.)

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

                  

- the Jesus Prayer, one of the most common practices in ancient and eastern Christianity

A Frank Admission of My Ignorance

Here's a new poem I just wrote. I've been bothered in the past few weeks by just the sheer mass and volume of opinionated bluster that gets thrown out into the public sphere in this age of the Internet and social media. A lot of people seem to think that they know all the pertinent facts to ensure that their opinion is right, and simply want to triumph in an intellectualized battle of egotism, fought in miniscule half-thoughts posted in comment sections. As I thought about it, I reflected that I too, have a prideful longing to know more than others, and to come out the victor in debates on the rare occasion that I find myself in that situation. I style myself as knowledgeable in history, theology, philosophy, science, and art--and true, I might be more conversant in those fields than many of my fellow citizens--but the amount of knowledge I actually have is infinitely small compared to the amount of knowledge out there to be known. So I wrote a poem to administer a dose of humility that I probably need. It reflects not only on the human greed for knowledge, but also on the all-too-common tragedy that we do not even put into practice the meaningful, life-transforming truths that we do know.

A Frank Admission of My Ignorance

Oh Lord, be merciful to me,

A fool if fool there be;

For I know nothing but Thy will,

And still I wrestle Thee.

I know not much of history,

Nor science, nor the arts,

But know Thou bid’st me follow Thee

With mind, soul, strength, and heart.

I know not much of politics,

Nor how the world should run,

But know Thou call’st me to be pure,

An image of Thy Son.

Yet knowing this is fractured bliss

That’s interspersed with pain;

For knowing and not following

Will add to sin its shame.

Oh, in my folly I would seek

The knowledge of all things;

But I need knowledge less than faith

To serve the King of Kings.

Lord, Thou hast made me smart enough

To know that I’m not wise;

(A knowledge rare in this our age

Of boastful enterprise);

Take Thou away the pride that longs

To reign in intellect;

And grant that I may practice what

I’ve learned in this respect:

That I may live the truth I know,

And boldly to submit

My life, my choice, my intellect,

To what Thou hast for it.

Though earthly men might think me smart,

I’d rather faithful be:

To master this unruly heart,

Obey, and follow Thee.

Lord, here I drink humility,

And here my pride, it dies;

I not for nothing nothing know,

That Thou might make me wise.