He Is Risen

Make no mistake: if He rose at all

it was as His body;

if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules

reknit, the amino acids rekindle,

the Church will fall.

 

It was not as the flowers,

each soft Spring recurrent;

it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled

eyes of the eleven apostles;

it was as His flesh: ours.

 

The same hinged thumbs and toes,

the same valved heart

that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then

regathered out of enduring Might

new strength to enclose.

 

Let us not mock God with metaphor,

analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;

making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the

faded credulity of earlier ages:

let us walk through the door.

 

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,

not a stone in a story,

but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow

grinding of time will eclipse for each of us

the wide light of day.

 

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,

make it a real angel,

weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,

opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen

spun on a definite loom.

 

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,

for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,

lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are

embarrassed by the miracle,

and crushed by remonstrance.

 

—John Updike, Seven Stanzas At Easter, 1964

H/T Word on Fire

Recommendations

OK- I know I've added a great deal of content to the site, so much so that it may be difficult to wade through it all even with the handy dandy headings and groupings. For many of you this will not be a problems and you will slog through as you are led. But some may not and thus may miss some of the really good stuff that is there. The blogs and links I offer all have some redeeming quality and are trustworthy as far as I know. If I feel the subject matter is somewhat lacking, it will go away. Still, you may find it a bit much, so to assist you I have included below some of the highlights this week. As I've said, I think they are all worth a look but if you can only get to a few, these would be them for this week:

A new way to achieve victory in the Mid-East. A thought provoking article by analyst and writer Daniel Pipes:

When Barack Obama announced in June 2009 about Israeli-Palestinian diplomacy, "I'm confident that if we stick with it, having started early, that we can make some serious progress this year," he displayed a touching, if naïve optimism.

Indeed, his determination fits a well-established pattern of determination by politicians to "solve" the Arab-Israeli conflict; there were fourteen U.S. government initiatives just during the two George W. Bush administrations. Might this time be different? Will trying harder or being more clever end the conflict?

No, there is no chance whatever of this effort working.

Without looking at the specifics of the Obama approach — which are in themselves problematic — I shall argue three points: that past Israeli-Palestinian negotiations have failed; that their failure resulted from an Israeli illusion about avoiding war; and that Washington should urge Jerusalem to forego negotiations and return instead to its earlier and more successful policy of fighting for victory. (more)

Over at Bedlam or Parnassus an excellent post on shameful things and the shame and bedlam present in our schools and in our government.

Many of the pro-family blogs are helping in Maine's fight to preserve tradtional marriage. At the Pomegranate Apple they tell you some concrete ways you can help.

And last but certainly not least, when it all seems a bit much to handle, you can go to A Trail of Flowers and rest. If you are Catholic (or a closet Catholic-like me) and/or appreciate or write (or attempt to write- like me) poetry, then you will be doubly blessed. I've never known a blog to be a poem till now. It is a breath of fresh air.

I hope you enjoy them all.

Memorial Day

In August 2006 I did a tour of duty in Iraq. I was the NCOIC of a combat weather team. We support the Army with weather information. During that tour I had the opportunity to work with an Army Captain by the name of Sean Lyerly. Over 10 years younger than I he always had a smile on his face and always had a genuine concern for the welfare of those around him, including the enlisted. When we traveled to the other side of the base to check out the Bazaar, he got a Hum-Vee and drove us over. The Captain drove the two NCOs.

He loved spicy foods, from the wasabi trail mix that someone sent around Christmas to the Jalapeno/cheese poppers he asked me to bring him back from the chow hall.

We had many talks about wasabi. Upon finding out that most "wasabi" in the states was really horseradish, and that actual wasabi was very expensive, we decided to explore the possibility of starting a business growing wasabi when we returned. He had an interest in plants and actually received a degree in horticulture from Texas A&M and had experience caring for aquatic plants when he worked at Disneyland (or Disney world I can't remember). Naturally, we felt the answer would be to grow the wasabi hydroponically.

He loved his wife and 3 year old son and he loved to fly. He was one of the battle captains in the the tactical operations center (TOC) and consequently did not get to fly as often as he would have preferred. One of the last things I heard the Colonel tell him before I left was, "Don't worry, you'll get more flight time, I promise."

Our unit supported the Army's year long deployment with three 4 month rotations. Mine was the first. I left on December 31, 2006.

On January 20th he was shot down and killed along with 11 others who were passengers in the Blackhawk he was flying.

This Memorial Day, take a moment from the sales and the BBQs, and remember these and the many others who have given the ultimate sacrifice for their country and it's citizens.


Memorial Day

They stood around the graves
And told their stories,
The very young and very old
And for every story learned,
For every one taught
A monument danced and a memory walked,
A grave remained unfinished and unfilled.

They sat upon the headstones
And sang their songs,
The living and the dead
And for every song left unheard
For every one forgot
A memory wept and a history slept,
A grave was sealed and a spirit stilled.
-Eutychus

Our Lord is Risen! He is Risen Indeed!

Easter

Rise, heart; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise
Without delays,
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise
With him mayst rise,
That as his death calcined thee to dust,
His life may make thee gold, and, much more, just. (rest of the poem here)

The Donkey

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me:
I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

-- G. K. Chesteron, The Donkey
(in case you missed it's posting at Touchstone)

A Poem from St. Francis

From the Voice of the Martyrs website Persecution Blog, an oldie but a goodie..check out more from the RSS feed on the left of this blog.

A Poem from St. Francis of Assisi
Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not soMuch seek to be consoled, as to console;
To be understood, as to understand;
To be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI

Men At Forty (or 44)

MEN AT FORTY

Men at forty
Learn to close softly
The doors to rooms they will not be
Coming back to.

At rest on a stair landing,
They feel it moving
Beneath them now like the deck of a ship,
Though the swell is gentle.

And deep in mirrors
They rediscover
The face of the boy as he practices tying
His father’s tie there in secret,

And the face of that father,
Still warm with the mystery of lather.
They are more fathers than sons themselves now.
Something is filling them, something

That is like the twilight sound
Of the crickets, immense,
Filling the woods at the foot of the slope
Behind their mortgaged houses.

~ Donald Justice (1925-2004)

Poetry Corner- Those Winter Sundays

Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early
And put his clothes on in the blueback cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

Robert Hayden