To fall in love with God is the greatest of all romances;
to seek Him, the greatest adventure;
to find Him, the greatest human achievement.

Saint Augustine
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts

Friday, April 22, 2011

Love is not loved

Forgive me for my gross neglect of blogging, again. And not only that, I have neglected to post anything for Lent, the Annunciation, Holy Week...yup. :( I am sorry.

I have shared some things on Facebook in the past couple days that may be of interest. For my last-hour Good Friday post, however, I shall just share a picture and a quote.


This is a picture by Russian artist Viktor Mikhailovich Vasnetsov...I do not know what it is called, and I would love to know if there is a completed version of this sketch. (You should be able to click on it to make it bigger.)

At any rate, when I first stumbled across this, I must have gasped softly. There is something so clear, so startling, and so haunting about this picture of Our Lord, depicted in the manner commonly known as 'Ecce Homo' - Behold the Man. There is some soft, deep, ache in His eyes that makes it hard for me to look at, the blood from the crown of thorns dripping down His face. Have I done this? Yes, yes, I have. Through all my sins, my iniquities, my countless infidelities: here is the Bridegroom whom I spit upon, here is the Husband from whose love I turn away! "Love is not loved!" cried St. Francis of Assisi. Love is not loved.

O Lord, my God, have mercy on me, a sinner! Only with your Blood poured out will my sin-inflicted bleeding wounds -in heart, mind, soul, and flesh- be healed. Oh, I need You now, more than ever before....

I ask you, readers who may come here tonight or tomorrow, to gaze upon this Face, this Holy Face of our Redeemer, and ponder these words that struck me also this morning (emphasis mine):

"Look, look on Jesus, poor and crucified, look on this Holy One, who for your love has died, and remember as you contemplate the sacred mysteries, this Jesus whom you gaze upon loves you most tenderly."
~ St. Clare of Assisi

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Shrouded in tears

Do please read this, I found it especially good. :)

Excerpt:
So what does a “jeweled cross” indicate? It means that the suffering we endure for love has value—and even more so when joined to the salvific work of Christ. His is the cross that gives merit to our pain, and he is the one who shows what love can accomplish.

While we meditate on this truth in Lent, every tragedy, such as the loss of a child, can become its own Lent—of seeming endless duration. Its Easter mysteries may be shrouded in tears, and the victory of love over death may be clouded by the very ache of such love so tinged with fresh sorrow. That is entirely understandable...

Monday, March 29, 2010

Begin with the world unseen

(And what's this about no comments on the song before this post? Hmmm? Do you seriously not like it? xD)

I meant to post this on Sunday, and I know that Monday is now almost over, but better late than never! I subscribe to their email list, and received this in my inbox on Palm Sunday. :) I pray it offers you some food for thought and meditation, as we enter the second day of Holy Week.

Christ's Entry into Jerusalem, by Jean-Hippolyte Flandrin


In ‘The Cross of Christ the Measure of the World’ (1841) Newman argues that this world can only be truly understood in the light of the cross of Christ, for we must experience the sufferings of this world before we can understand ourselves, our weakness and sin, and so realise our eternal destiny. So is this world somehow bad, and not to be enjoyed? No, says Newman, but: ‘they alone can truly feast, who have first fasted’.

And thus, too, all that is bright and beautiful, even on the surface of this world, though it has no substance, and may not suitably be enjoyed for its own sake, yet is a figure and promise of that true joy which issues out of the Atonement [for our sins which Christ worked on the cross]. It is a promise beforehand of what is to be: it is a shadow, raising hope because the substance is to follow, but not to be rashly taken instead of the substance. And it is God’s usual mode of dealing with us, in mercy to send the shadow before the substance, that we may take comfort in what is to be, before it comes. Thus our Lord before His Passion rode into Jerusalem in triumph, with the multitudes crying Hosanna, and strewing His road with palm branches and their garments. This was but a vain and hollow pageant, nor did our Lord take pleasure in it. It was a shadow which stayed not, but flitted away. It could not be more than a shadow, for the Passion had not been undergone by which His true triumph was wrought out. He could not enter into His glory before He had first suffered. He could not take pleasure in this semblance of it, knowing that it was unreal. Yet that first shadowy triumph was the omen and presage of the true victory to come, when He had overcome the sharpness of death. And we commemorate this figurative triumph on the last Sunday in Lent, to cheer us in the sorrow of the week that follows, and to remind us of the true joy which comes with Easter-Day.

And so, too, as regards this world, with all its enjoyments, yet disappointments. Let us not trust it; let us not give our hearts to it; let us not begin with it. Let us begin with faith; let us begin with Christ; let us begin with His Cross and the humiliation to which it leads. Let us first be drawn to Him who is lifted up, that so He may, with Himself, freely give us all things. Let us “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” and then all those things of this world “will be added to us.” They alone are able truly to enjoy this world, who begin with the world unseen. They alone enjoy it, who have first abstained from it. They alone can truly feast, who have first fasted; they alone are able to use the world, who have learned not to abuse it; they alone inherit it, who take it as a shadow of the world to come, and who for that world to come relinquish it.

(Reference: John Henry Newman, Parochial and Plain Sermons Vol 6 (1842) Sermon no. 7, p. 92-3)














***My thoughts - Yes, a shadow of the world to come. But then, so are we also shadows of who we really are. We will not become fully and completely ourselves, fully alive, until we pass through death, a second birth. All Creation groans for redemption; it will not be "destroyed" in the Apocalyptic imagery (exploited and exaggerated and woefully misunderstood) that is so known to us (and despised by me), I think it is more proper and orthodox to believe that Creation will be renewed and redeemed. What is false will pass away; what is true shall not pass away, but be made perfect. "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen."

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Ecce ancilla Domini, fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum

Oh, alas, alas, it has been days and days since last I posted anything, I know! For shame! I am so darn busy right now, it's maddening. And so this little blog-in-forming, as I call it, gets neglected. In fact, I approved some lovely comments recently by some of you and have yet to reply to them! Agh! I will, though, I will.

First off, I am rather amazed that Sunday is Palm Sunday and Lent is nearing its end. Holy Week is upon us! How can this be? The days go by so fast. :/


Today is Lady Day! I love that English name for it. There's just something about it that makes my heart quicken. It is the feast of the Annunciation, when we remember when the Archangel Gabriel appeared to Our Lady Mary, announcing the coming of the Saviour, whom she would conceive in her womb. Today is a day of joy! The beginning of the Incarnation and the setting forth in motion of our salvation.

Since I don't have a lot of time, but I still would like to share some thoughts for today, I am linking a lovely reflection from Deacon Keith Fournier on today's feast: Mary Teaches Us How to Live.

Also, one of my favorite religious blogs, Vultus Christi, has a beautiful post for today, The Two Annunciations. I urge you to read it.

And now, a poem, Ave Maria plena Gratia, from Oscar Wilde, who on his deathbed came to faith, and was baptized and anointed by a Catholic priest.

Was this His coming! I had hoped to see
A scene of wondrous glory, as was told
Of some great God who in a rain of gold
Broke open bars and fell on Danaë:
Or a dread vision as when Semele
Sickening for love and unappeased desire
Prayed to see God’s clear body, and the fire
Caught her white limbs and slew her utterly:
With such glad dreams I sought this holy place,
And now with wondering eyes and heart I stand
Before this supreme mystery of Love:
A kneeling girl with passionless pale face,
An angel with a lily in his hand,
And over both with outstretched wings the Dove.

The Annunciation, by John William Waterhouse