Recently I learned that my work was being discussed on some anti-abortion websites because I had been invited to do three events in early October at my old alma mater
There was one guy who wrote that he was moved to reach for his baseball bat and shotgun when he thought about my being a guest at my alma mater. There was one woman who argued for the value of diverse opinions. Everybody else expressed anger and sadness. The general outrage was focused on the fact that I, a teacher/writer/blogger and activist for reproductive justice, had been invited to visit a Catholic school, a Catholic University (of which, by the way, I am a graduate).
The anti-abortion peoples responses reminded me how ignorant almost everybody is about the history of the Church in relation to abortion, how crucial that history is for Catholic women and girls, and how damaging that ignorance can be in the lives of millions, both Catholic and not. Fact is, Church thinking and policy on abortion have been various, to say the least, over many hundreds of years.
I learned this while studying at the Rockefeller Archives in New York in 1999. I was reading texts about abortion, contraception, and related issues, including the founding of Planned Parenthood, an enterprise of importance to some members of the Rockefeller family. I read a pamphlet prepared in the nineteen-seventies by Catholics for a Free Choice; I read hundreds of pages of minutes from meetings, a variety of reports, and lots of correspondence. My goal was simply to take in as much as I could and maybe riff on what Id found, writing poems for a book manuscript (What if your mother*). I was flat-out amazed at what I learned, and I want to tell everybody all about it.
You might ask: Why? Whats the big deal? And if you did, Id answer: The Catholic Church is a source of huge amounts of money and influence in the international politics of reproductive justice, and fights fiercely to prevent access to authentic sex education and effective family planning services all over the world.
So. First of all, I see its useful to include Aristotle, that ever-present precursor to, and influence upon, Christianity: he theorized that a fetus becomes human (is "ensouled") 40 days after conception if male, 80 if female. Since there was no way for him or anybody else in those days to know the sex of a fetus at any time during pregnancy, his theory is intriguing, to say the least. Aristotle was born in 384 BCE and died in 322 BCE; clever as he was, he did a certain amount of damage in his 62 years.
Now, on to the Church he influenced, for a selection of useful, interesting bits: St. Jerome (b.347, d.420), was beatified in 1747 and canonized in 1767. He wrote to a woman named Algasis (probably his student) that "seeds are gradually formed in the uterus, and it [abortion] is not reputed homicide until the scattered elements receive their appearances and members." Why he embraced that idea we cannot say, but we can say that such thinking scarcely supports an absolute anti-abortion position.
Pope Innocent III (1198-1216) held that abortion was "not irregular" if the fetus was not yet "vivified" or "animated." This distinction evokes the concept of "quickening," which was until recently a notable marker in fetal development but now is often displaced by "viability" as a result of new medical technology and legal considerations.
Innocents principles were adopted into the Decretals of Pope Gregory IX, who was pope in his very old age (1227-1241). Gregory was a complicated guy, by no means a champ on every front. His record is a fine reminder of how important it is for us to recognize complexity. Born in 1145, he lived almost a hundred years and is sometimes said to have been a hero to St. Francis (who died the year before Gregory became pope), but he preached in favor of the Crusades and burned heretics.
Thomas Aquinas (b.1225, d.1274), of all people, turns out to have been one of those who thought that abortion of only an "animated" fetus should be considered murder, a thoughtful position even now, despite the complications of "viability."
One of my personal favorites is Tomás Sanchez (b.1550, d.1610), a Jesuit scholar. He said that abortion was lawful when the fetus was not yet "ensouled" and when the mother would die from carrying it to term. I thought of him instantly when the anti-abortion people complained about my being invited to a Jesuit university. (I have to tell you that my copy of the fall issue of Loyolas magazine arrived this week, and its cover says: "Welcome home to Loyola.")
It is useful to know that the catechism of the Council of Trent in 1566 held that "in the natural order, no body can be informed by a human soul except after the prescribed space of time." Though the "prescribed space of time" is unclear, council discussion was about the business of ensuring that Jesus was understood to be different from everyone else in human form because his soul was joined to his body at the time of conception, unlike all (other) human beings. This seems a useful note to sound when discussing abortion.
Sixtus V outlawed all abortion in 1588. That was the year the Protestant Virgin Queen, Elizabeth Tudor, thoroughly trounced the power of the Church through her navys defeat of the Spanish Armada, a fleet blessed by the Pope and considered invincible in much the same way the Titanic was later considered unsinkable. As I recall, the Armada suffered from rough weather in the English Channel almost as much as from the smaller, faster ships that harried them, but I cannot help thinking Sixtus may have been in an especially misogynist frame of mind. Mind you, I do not even know which came first, the edict or the defeat; but he certainly was in a near-constant rage about Elizabeth in those years.
Only three years later, another victory for the girls team: Pope Gregory XIV changed the law in 1591. He allowed abortions to be done up to the 40th day of gestation (some scholars dispute this, putting Gregorys deadline at the even longer sixteen and a half weeks). Pinpointing the moment of conception then was surely no less dicey than it is now, so this ruling was a gift to women.
Saint Alphonsus Ligouri (b. 1696, d.1787) said that the fetus is "certainly not animated before it is formed." It is fair to assume he was referring to the "form" of a human being (as opposed, for example, to a five or six week fetus, which still has a discernible tail). He also said abortion should be allowed when needed to save the life of the mother.
In 1869, less than a hundred years after Saint Alphonsus death, Pope Pius IX forbade all abortion. Like Sixtus V, he was a hardliner, and that hard line, a ruling made less than 150 years ago, is church law in our time.
Pius XII announced in 1958 that the pill, that miracle of mid-20th century chemistry, was immoral because it prevents ovulation. Pius was a big opponent of overt sexuality as well as birth control. (What with the current connections so often made among stem cell research, conception, contraception, and abortion, Ill note here that in that same year a Nobel prize for physiology and medicine was shared by Joshua Lederberg and the team of George W. Beadle/Edward Tatum, all of whom were working on genetics.)
Pius died the same year he banned the pill, and John XXIII became pope, bringing joy to millions of people all over the world, many of whom were not even members of his church. However, he died in less than five years, so we will never know if his intelligence and compassion could have led him to the kind of radical shift implemented by those other popes in the past. We do know that his bishops affirmed "the value and necessity of wisely planned education of children in human sexuality." Whatever they actually meant by this, their statement certainly could, even now, be interpreted as good news.
In the middle of 1964, Pope Paul announced that the Church position on birth control was "being studied." Though this is a time-honored method of delaying action (often forever), John D. Rockefeller III considered it an opportunity to further the cause of family planning. He was cautioned, in the correspondence I read at the Archives, that there would be no overturning of papal proclamations, only the possibility of reinterpretation. There was an exchange in which he was urged to understand that the Church would not accept contraception that "destroys the natural structure of the marital act," but he still thought there might be some acceptance of methods that intervene in the physiology of an individual person. That is, devices would be forbidden while chemicals would be allowed. But the pill remained condemned, and no part of JDR3s hopeful interpretation has yet been realized.
Benedict now occupies the papal throne. His presence there may seem a grim emblem in the face of the desperately difficult struggle for womens reproductive health. Nevertheless, Benedict now has to consider the use of condoms in relation to AIDS. I bet hes thinking about this history of differing opinions, edicts, principles, and the willingness of all those men to contradict each other, to overturn each others rules.
Knowing that Vatican law has not been constant may make us angry: uncounted millions of womens motherhood decisions have been dictated by all that back-and-forth. On the other hand, knowing that Vatican law has not been constant may make us joyous: the generosity and grace of some men of the Church brought relief and release to many women and girls. Either way, knowing this history is provocative, energizing, liberating. Let us tell everybody all about it.
When the shy star goes forth in heaven All maidenly, disconsolate, Hear you amid the drowsy even One who is singing by your gate. His song is softer than the dew And he is come to visit you.
O bend no more in revery When he at eventide is calling, Nor muse: Who may this singer be Whose song about my heart is falling? Know you by this, the lover's chant, 'Tis I that am your visitant.
God willing He'll keep them who died fighting in war God willing their memory won't stray from us far. God willing He'll bless them who still fight the good fights God willing He'll bring them safe home to our hearts.
Leprechauns, castles, good luck and laughter.Lullabies, dreams and love ever after. Poems and songs with pipes and drums. A thousand welcomes when anyone comes... That's the Irish for you!
God never shuts one door, but only opens another.
It is easy to be pleasant when life flows by like a song, but the man worth while is the one who will smile when everything goes dead wrong. For the test of the heart is trouble, and it always comes with years, and the smile that is worth the praises of earth is the smile that shines through the tears.
There is no need like the lack of a friend.
When mistrust comes in, love goes out.
I believe in the sun when it's not shining, I believe in love even when I feel it not, I believe in God even when he is silent.
You've got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your grandfather was.
Count your joys instead of your woes; Count your friends instead of your foes.
Sore sea-longing in my heart, Blue deep Barra waves are calling, Sore sea-longing in my heart. Glides the sun, but ah! how slowly, Far away to luring seas! Sore sea-longing in my heart, Blue deep Barra waves are calling, Sore sea-longing in my heart. Hear'st, O Sun, the roll of waters, Breaking, calling by yon Isle? Sore sea-longing in my heart, Blue deep Barra waves are calling, Sore sea-longing in my heart. Sun on high, ere falls the gloamin', Heart to heart, thou'lt greet yon waves. Mary Mother, how I yearn, Blue deep Barra waves are calling, Mary Mother, how I yearn.
God made my mother on an April day, From sorrow and the mist along the sea, Lost birds' and wanderers' songs and ocean spray, And the moon loved her wandering jealously.
Beside the ocean's din she combed her hair, Singing the nocturne of the passing ships, Before her earthly lover found her there And kissed away the music from her lips.
She came unto the hills and saw the change That brings the swallow and the geese in turns. But there was not a grief she deeméd strange, For there is that in her which always mourns.
Kind heart she has for all on hill or wave Whose hopes grew wings like ants to fly away. I bless the God Who such a mother gave This poor bird-hearted singer of a day.
Brighidin Bhán of the lint-white locks, What was it gave you that flaxen hair, Long as the summer heath in the rocks? What was it gave you those eyes of fire, Lip so waxen and cheek so wan? Tell me, tell me, Brighidin Bhán, Little white bride of my heart's desire.
Was it the Good People stole you away, Little white changeling, Brighidin Bhán? Carried you off in the ring of the dawn, Laid like a queen on her purple car, Carried you back between night and day; Gave you that fortune of flaxen hair, Gave you those eyes of wandering fire, Lit at the wheel of the northern star Gave you that look so far away? Tell me, tell me, Brighidin Bhán, Little white bride of my heart's desire.
O shapely Flower that must for aye endure! O Voice of God that every heart must hear! O Hymn of purest souls that dost unsphere The ravished soul that lists! O white, white Gem! O Rose that dost the senses drown in bliss! No thing can stay, no thing can stem, No thing can lure the heart to miss Thy love, thy joy, thy rapture divine-- O Beauty, Beauty, ever thine The soul, the heart, the brain, To hymn thee in a loud perpetual strain, Shriller and sweeter than song of wine, Than lay of sorrow or love or war-- Beauty of heaven and sun and day, Beauty of water and frost and star, Beauty of dusk-tide, narrowing, grey. . . Beautyof silver light, Beauty of purple night, Beauty of solemn breath, Beauty of closed eye, and sleep, and death. . . Beauty of dawn and dew, Beauty of morning peace Ever ancient and ever new, Ever renewed till waking cease Or sleep forever, when loud the angel's word Through all the world is heard. . . Beauty of brute and bird, Beauty of earthly creatures Whose hearts by the hand of God are stirred. Beauty of the soul, Beauty informing forms and features, Fairest to God's eye, Beauty that cannot fade or die Till eternal atoms to ruin roll! Beauty of blinded Trust, Led by the hand of God To a heaven where cherub hath never trod. . . Austere Beauty of Truth, Lighting the way of the just. . . Splendid Beauty of Youth, Staying when Youth is fled, Living when Life is dead, Burning in funeral dust!
The glory of form doth pale and pall, Beauty endures to the end of all.
Ebb tide to me! My life drifts downward with the drifting sea Old age has caught and compassed me about, The tides of time run out.
The " Hag of Beare!" 'Tis thus I hear the young girls jeer and mock Yet I, who in these cast-off clouts appear, Once donned a queenly smock.
Ye love but self, Ye churls! to-day ye worship pelf! But in the days I lived we sought for men, We loved our lovers then!
Ah! swiftly when Their splendid chariots coursed upon the plain, I checked their pace, for me they flew amain, Held in by curb and rein.
I envy not the old, Whom gold adorns, whom richest robes enfold, But ah! the girls, who pass my cell at morn, While I am shorn!
On sweet May-morn Their ringing laughter on the breeze is borne, While I, who shake with ague and with age, In Litanies engage.
Amen! and woe is me! I lie here rotting like a broken tree Each acorn has its day and needs must fall, Time makes an end of all!
I had my day with kings! We drank the brimming mead, the ruddy wine, Where now I drink whey-water; for company more fine Than shrivelled hags, hag though I am, I pine.
The flood-tide thine! Mine but the low down-curling ebb-tide's flow, My youth, my hope, are carried from my hand, Thy flood-tide foams to land.
My body drops Slowly but sure towards the abode we know When God's High Son takes from me all my props It will be time to go!
Bony my arms and bare Could you but see them 'neath the mantle's flap. Wizened and worn, that once were round and fair, When kings lay in my lap.
'Tis, "O my God" with me, Many prayers said, yet more prayers left undone If I could spread my garment in the sun I'd say them, every one.
The sea-wave talks, Athwart the frozen earth grim winter stalks Young Fermod, son of Mugh, ne'er said me nay, Yet he comes not to-day.
How still they row, Oar dipped by oar the wavering reeds among, To Alma's shore they press, a ghostly throng, Deeply they sleep and long.
No lightsome laugh Disturbs my fireside's stillness; shadows fall, And quiet forms are gathering round my hearth, Yet lies the hand of silence on them all.
I do not deem it ill That a nun's veil should rest upon my head But finer far my feast-robe's various hue To me, when all is said.
My very cloak grows old Grey its tint, its woof is frayed and thin I seem to feel grey hairs within its fold, Or are they on my skin
O·happy Isle of Ocean, Thy flood-tide leaps to meet eddying wave Lifting it up and onward. Till the grave The sea-wave comes not after ebb for me.
I find them not Those sunny sands I knew so well of yore Only the surf's sad roar sounds up to me, My tide will turn no more.
I stood and looked around where, far and nigh, The heather bloom was swaying in the air, The clouds chased one another down the sky Beyond my sight, and everywhere The birds flew through the sunshine, where they sang So loud, so clear, so sweet, the heavens rang Of lark and thrush and stare.
I never heard a melody so sweet As I heard then; I never knew a day So filled with sunshine; never saw the fleet And tinted clouds so high and free and gay Each danced to the horizon like a boy Let out from school, each tumbled in its joy And ran away.
I think so often of Mary - Mary, the mother glad, Who lived in the Nazareth cottage When Christ was a little lad.
I think of her in the morning As she put on his little frock And brushed the curls of his forehead, Smoothing each shining lock, And heard him speak with reverence A little sunrise prayer With a look of childlike wonder Upon his face, so fair.
When Joseph had gone to the workshop The cottage made trim and neat, And Jesus played with the children Who lived across the street, I think the sound of music Was the echo of his voice, Which sent her pulses thrilling And made her heart rejoice.
And when He brought his bruises For her to touch and kiss And she smiled away his troubles With all a mother's bliss - I think that over her spirit Stole a promise of endless rest As she 'magnified the Father' Who had given her his best.
Then, when the shadows deepened And the Child, now tired of play, Rested his head on her bosom At the close of a weary day, As she taught him a psalm of praises And mused on prophecies dear, I think that the song of angels Fell on her listening ear.
So I think often of Mary - Mary, the mother glad, Who lived in the Nazareth cottage Where Christ was a little lad.
I thought this was a beautiful poem...and posted it
"It seems like Bush and his little trolls are at it again trying to use Gay Marriage as a wedge issue at the polls in the upcoming Nov.Elections, trying to use the recent New Jersey court ruling to excite the gay bashers of their party and rally them to the polls. Its no big deal, basically all they did was rule that gay couples are entitled to the same benefits and legal rights that heterosexual couples have, big deal so what, I see no problem with that. All this apoplexy from a party that has the "Log Cabin Republicans" which is a gay Republican Caucus and a substantial number of gay and bisexual republican congressmen that condemn homosexual acts and rights they themselves engage in homosexual acts and with underage youths. Good heavens talk about hypocrisy! Please America Vote these Republican nit wits out of power and congress! Now!"
To which I received a silly response, something along the lines of Jesus being homosexual, now what that has to do with what I posted I have no idea. The extreme left has the same problem the extreme right does...each wants to use Jesus simply to promote their own agenda and I disagree with both
The mistake most people make is that Jesus was not purely human Jesus was both God and human he is of divine nature, He had to be, because of the miracles He performed and because of His words, and most importantly because Jesus had the power to forgive sins onlyGod can forgive sins
Jesus said the following in John 14.....
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going."...Thomas said to him, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him."
What Jesus was saying to Thomas here is that He was God both God and Man. Now if we accept the precept that Jesus isGod You must accept the fact that God is an All Powerful Supernatural Omnipotent Being now as such He is the creator of the world, the universe as we know it, the Author of Life. God is Spirit God has appeared as Fire, Thunder to Moses, an Angel to Abraham etc.. for all is possible with God...so in my personal point of view what need does God have for sex? or a human body? or to procreate when He can simply create and will these things? Why would Jesus be homosexual when God sees it as an abomination and it was Jesus mission to be obedient to His Heavenly Father and He came to forgive sins and not commit them?
In the Old Testament it states..."God created man in His own image" which people frequently misinterpret, it does not mean that He created humans that look like him...a more apt view here is that the word "image" he means an "idea" as to how God wanted humans to look not necessarily that God wanted humans to resemble him. In any event that's my humble opinion and I'd welcome opinions and input to my blog. Jesus being gay is simply an illogical unintelligent statement that makes no sense, its just designed to promote a political and social agenda
The beauty of a woman is not in the weight she bears, The figure she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from her eyes, Because that is the doorway to her heart, The place where love resides. The beauty of a woman is not in a facial beauty mole, But true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, The passion that she shows. The beauty of a woman With time, only grows...
If you ever need..... a smile to start your day, to feel my heart near to yours, and know it's all ok. Just close your eyes, and think of me.... I'm only a thought away.
If you ever need.... to feel me close to you, to know that you'll be loved, in all you say and do. Just close your eyes, and reach for me.... I'm only a touch away.
If you ever need.... to know that you belong, to feel my arms around you, when all the world feels wrong. Just close your eyes, and wish for me.... I'm only a whisper away.
And when you think of me, my thoughts will find you too. you'll feel my heart, and see a smile, that's only meant for you.
And if you reach....you'll feel my touch, like a warm and soft embrace. I'll wrap my love around you, any doubts will be erased.
And as you wish for me.... I'll be wishing for you to, it would only take a whisper.... to know that I Love You !
I cannot make a difference, We say this every day, But no-one said to change the world, In every single way, Just one smile or kind deed, Yes.Change the world, this may,
It matters not the size of one, Their beauty or their creed, Excuses are for the lazy, They are not the kind we need, Just one open heart filled will love, Will change this world of greed,
That smile could be your own, You could start right now, Changing your world in your own way, Doing your' part somehow, Digging an eternal friendship, No matter the distance to plow,
For what use would it all be, If we could not live to say, I had a good time whilst here, But that all ends today, I had a good time last week, But the world might end today,
So never show signs of sadness, Let your courage stand you tall, It takes only one act of friendship, One smile for a million to stand tall, It takes one person to make a difference, With a dream...A wish...That's all.
Soft glow of the moon, How you do shine on me. Illuminating my tears of thoughts As I stand in a self made sea.
I wonder, as you shine high above, Do you see the torment I feel? The torment of a little heart, That echoes a love so real?
I wonder, can you see him, And that jealous am I of you. For what of everything I would give, If I could see him too.
Perhaps somewhere, in this world he sits, And is witnessing your soft glow. And ask you moon, what I would give to be with him, The answer....anything I know.
Soft glow of the moon, How you do shine on me. Illuminating my tears of thoughts, As I stand in a self made sea.
I locked up my heart And I've hidden away the key Never to be broken again Also never to be free I'll go about my life Finding my way through each new day Choosing to travel these roads alone Not counting on someone to stay A lonely life, some might think Is what lies in wait for me But I pray I'll never hurt again From now on I'll only trust me You floated into my life On the wing of that very prayer Before me stood my sun and stars I feel it happening again...do I dare? Your love is the warmth that encompasses my heart With gentle force, it invades my soul I've become powerless to its effects Knowing again, I've lost all control Time stands still, I've lost the only key That can set my heart free With shining eyes full of love and hope You whisper softly to me.... 'Look into my eyes, see inside my heart You are in my soul, in yours is where I belong Unfolding his fingers, in his palm lays a key 'The key to your heart my love, I've had it all along
We dream of love, when love is lost, though Time would steal old love away; that passions and emotions tossed may ease with every passing day.
Can tears wash clean the aching heart and flush away that searing pain? Tomorrow brings a brand new start when love, reborn, can live again . Will each love be the love we knew when all the world was young? Is there a corner in the heart where Love’s sweet song is sung?
Those softened lips, that breathless kiss, the lovers’ touch and mingling sighs: Each new love brings ecstatic bliss, and love lives on, though all else dies.
Love is the hand that touches yours, The heart that dances too. Love is the sunlight pouring down, To warm the ground below. Love is the sea carresing the shore, The sand that blows and swirls. Love is the fruit that ripens, In the warmth of day. Love is the rain that falls upon us, Nourishing us all. Love is a little kindness, A kindness to warm a heart. Love is sharing together, What little we do have. Love is caring, And never giving up. Love is the holding of memories, Close inside of you. Love is every heart beat, In tune with the sea. Love is every rising sun, And every setting day. Love can be whatever, What evers in your heart, Of kindness, love and happy times, Times that never fade. Love is what we wish for, And when it all comes true. Love is what we have right now, And what we always do.
My tears like rain, My hopes like light, My fears like blackness in the night. My love as stars, under glinting rain, The sky is freedom, up above, a sign to free us all. and the trees as promices, never felled. A flower blooming bright and strong, The strength that always grows. The moon that shines upon us all, The hope that comes with dreams. The glinting of a star at night, A wish that has come true.
Arm in arm, And palm to palm, I feel your heart beat, Down to your toes and your feet. From my mind to yours, Every moment soars, Like a bird through the sky, From my eye to your eye. Our souls touch forever, In unity and always together.
Life is a journey through many terrains From gardens of pleasure to deserts of pain From an ocean of love to a jungle of hate From mountains of glory to canyons of fate
There's a highway for joy and a highway for sorrow A road for today and a road for tomorrow So choose your path wisely and walk it with care If you follow your heart, you'll find your way there
I've been to the garden and planted seeds there I've been to the desert and felt the despair I've swam in the ocean and drank of it's wine
I climbed up the mountain to touch the sky I went to the canyon and started to cry I've traveled the highways, both today and tomorrow I've basked in the joy and wallowed in sorrow
My Path has been chosen and I've walked it with care I followed my heart and I'm on my way there So I'll just keep walking till I find what I'm after To mountains and oceans and gardens of laughter
It's Wonderous what a hug can do, A hug can cheer you when you're blue, A hug can say, "I love you so." Or, "Gee! I hate to see you go."
A hug is, "Welcome back again!" And, "Great to see you!", or "Where've you been?" A hug can soothe a small child's pain And bring a rainbow after rain.
The Hug! There's no doubt about it, We scarcely could survive without it. A hug delights and warms and charms, It must be why God gave us arms.
Hugs are great for fathers and mothers, Sweet for sisters, swell for brothers, And chances are some favorite aunts Love them more than potted plants.
Kittens crave them. Puppies love them. Heads of state are not above them. A hug can break the language barrier, And make the dullest day seem merrier.
No need to fret about the store of 'em. The more you give, The more there are of 'em. So stretch those arms without delay And give someone a hug today.
Irishman, Englishman and a German are caught in Saudi Arabia drinking. "Under Saudi law you are sentenced to 30 lashes then deported. Before you begin you are entitled to something on you back, what would you like?" said the prison guard to the Englishman just before lashing him. The English man, being a bit of a cricket fan, asked for linseed oil. When they lashed him on a post and let him go to catch his flight back to London he groaned and crawled to the airport. Next came the German. "Under Saudi law you are sentenced to 30 lashes then deported. Before you begin you are entitled to something on you back, what would you like?" said the prison guard "Nothing" said the German and, after receiving his lashes spat on the ground, called the prison guards Schisers and started off towards the airport. The guards then came to the Irishman. "Under Saudi law you are sentenced to 30 lashes then deported. Before you begin you are entitled to something on you back, what would you like?" "Oh", replied the Irishman, "I'll take the German".
These are a collection of my college poems [Limericks] some from famous authors some from my family and mom
A sweet Irish lassie named Rose Liked to feel the grass with her toes; She was taken by surprise and could not believe her eyes When her toes turned green as her clothes!
These are a collection of my college poems [Limericks] some from famous authors some from my family and mom
There once was a girl from Killarney, Who had heard every man's blarney; But true love came her way When she met one fine day A young man whose name was McCarney!
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them,---ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication. For his simple heart Might not resist the sacred influences, Which, from the stilly twilight of the place, And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound Of the invisible breath that swayed at once All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed His spirit with the thought of boundless power And inaccessible majesty. Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd, and under roofs, That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least, Here, in the shadow of this aged wood, Offer one hymn---thrice happy, if it find Acceptance in His ear. Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns, thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, Budded, and shook their green leaves in the breeze, And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow, Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died Among their branches, till, at last, they stood, As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark, Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold Communion with his Maker. These dim vaults, These winding aisles, of human pomp and pride Report not. No fantastic carvings show The boast of our vain race to change the form Of thy fair works. But thou art here---thou fill'st The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds That run along the summit of these trees In music; thou art in the cooler breath That from the inmost darkness of the place Comes, scarcely felt; the barky trunks, the ground, The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with thee. Here is continual worship;---Nature, here, In the tranquility that thou dost love, Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around, From perch to perch, the solitary bird Passes; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs, Wells softly forth and wandering steeps the roots Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left Thyself without a witness, in these shades, Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak--- By whose immovable stem I stand and seem Almost annihilated---not a prince, In all that proud old world beyond the deep, E'er wore his crown as lofty as he Wears the green coronal of leaves with which Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower With scented breath, and look so like a smile, Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould, An emanation of the indwelling Life, A visible token of the upholding Love, That are the soul of this wide universe.
My heart is awed within me when I think Of the great miracle that still goes on, In silence, round me---the perpetual work Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed Forever. Written on thy works I read The lesson of thy own eternity. Lo! all grow old and die---but see again, How on the faltering footsteps of decay Youth presses----ever gay and beautiful youth In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees Wave not less proudly that their ancestors Moulder beneath them. Oh, there is not lost One of earth's charms: upon her bosom yet, After the flight of untold centuries, The freshness of her far beginning lies And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate Of his arch enemy Death---yea, seats himself Upon the tyrant's throne---the sepulchre, And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe Makes his own nourishment. For he came forth From thine own bosom, and shall have no end.
There have been holy men who hid themselves Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived The generation born with them, nor seemed Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks Around them;---and there have been holy men Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus. But let me often to these solitudes Retire, and in thy presence reassure My feeble virtue. Here its enemies, The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink And tremble and are still. Oh, God! when thou Dost scare the world with falling thunderbolts, or fill, With all the waters of the firmament, The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods And drowns the village; when, at thy call, Uprises the great deep and throws himself Upon the continent, and overwhelms Its cities---who forgets not, at the sight Of these tremendous tokens of thy power, His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by? Oh, from these sterner aspects of thy face Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath Of the mad unchained elements to teach Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate, In these calm shades, thy milder majesty, And to the beautiful order of the works Learn to conform the order of our lives.
Cold in the earth"”and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?
Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover Over the mountains, on that northern shore, Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover That noble heart for ever, ever more?
Cold in the earth, and fifteen wild Decembers From those brown hills have melted into spring: Faithful indeed is the spirit that remembers After such years of change and suffering!
Sweet Love of youth, forgive if I forget thee, While the world's tide is bearing me along: Sterner desires and other hopes beset me, Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!
No later light has lightened up my heaven; No second morn has ever shone for me: All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given, All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.
But when the days of golden dreams had perished, And even Despair was powerless to destroy, Then did I learn how existence could be cherished, Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy;
Then did I check the tears of useless passion, Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine; Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten Down to that tomb already more than mine.
And even yet I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in Memory's rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?
After love and fear, there's pride; After tears, the night; After all the words are gone, A chair with just one light. After memories, the dream That you will come home safe; After sleep, another day Of waiting for my life.
After hope, the happiness Of thinking of your love; After moments of despair, A stone no thought can move.
After all the sacrifice, The hunger and the pain, The passions and the promises, The losses and the gains,
There's nothing but my love for you, Which waits upon the wind To bring you from the barricades That now you must defend.
Providence is God’s intelligent plan by which he orders all things to their appointed end. God alone plans all things but he orders things by secondary causes. Just as a good architect himself designs a building and then employs a contractor and craftsmen to build his structure; so, God uses secondary causes to fulfill all that He plans. Of these secondary causes, some are necessary causes and some are contingent causes. Another way of saying this is that some things happen by necessity and other things happen by free choice. Humans and angels have free choice. This may sound unusual, but God, by His providence, conceives and orders things to happen by free choice. This can only be possible because of God’s divine power and because He stands above time.
Predestination
Predestination is a sub-set of God’s providence. Created things are planned and ordered by God’s Providence to their end in one of two ways. One way is that which is right and proper for its nature. For instance the proper end of a rock is to be a rock. A rock doesn’t need anything beyond its own nature to fulfill its purpose and destiny other than to be itself"a rock. However, some things that God has created have a purpose above their nature. Humans have the purpose of being united with God which exceeds anything in his nature. Therefore, in order for humans to achieve his divinely appointed purpose, they need God’s supernatural (meaning, "Above nature") assistance. This supernatural assistance is called predestination. God must positively take action on behalf of humans in order to assist them in attaining their divinely appointed (providential) end eternal life. This positive action on God’s part is called grace.
Reprobation
God’s activity is necessary to predestine men to a salvation above their natural capacity. In other words, without God’s intervention and grace, no man could achieve his end, which is union with God. This activity of predestination is a direct act of God. However, God permits those who are resistant to His grace to not achieve their purpose (union with Him). The name for this is reprobation. Reprobation is a purely negative act on God’s part (He allows it to happen). While God’s causal activity (a positive act) is necessary so that humans can be predestined to salvation above their natural capacity, reprobation is not parallel to this. A simple way of saying this is that God saves the saved and the condemmed condem themselves. The guilt for eternal separation from God and the desertion of God’s grace rests with the free will of the person who is reprobated.
It is my view that it is a horrible thing to imagine that God both predestines some people to heaven and some people to hell. This concept is called double predestination and those people who hold to such a doctrine often do not realize that it has been formally anathemized in the West at the Council of Orange in 529 and by the Eastern Orthodox Church since the 1600’s. The Council of Orange stated:
"We not only do not believe that any are foreordained to evil by the power of God, but even state with utter abhorrence that if there are those who want to believe so evil a thing, they are anathema."
Pat Moynihan wrote in 1965: From the wild Irish slums of the nineteenth-century Eastern seaboard to the riot-torn suburbs of Los Angeles, there is one unmistakable lesson in American history: A community that allows a large number of young men to grow up in broken families, dominated by women, never acquiring a stable relationship to male authority, never acquiring any rational expectations about the future that community asks for and gets chaos... [In such a society] crime, violence, unrest, unrestrained lashing out the whole social structure these are not only to be expected, they are virtually inevitable. Unfortunately, Senator Moynihan was scoffed at in 1965; however, he turned out to be a prophet. Now the chicken has come home to roost.
Nationally, seventy percent of youths incarcerated in state reform institutions come from single-parent or no-parent homes. A survey of juvenile delinquents in state custody in Wisconsin found that fewer than 1/6 came from intact families; over two-fifths were illegitimate. Additionally, if a single-parent family is in a neighborhood with a large number of other single-parent families, the odds of a fatherless boy becoming involved in crime are tripled. These findings are based on a study conducted for the Department of Health and Human Services.
Shockingly, Aquinas is saying that in human parenting, fathers are more important than mothers. Okay, everyone take a deep breath and try to stay calmI am not mommy bashing. Please understand that Aquinas means this from the perspective of the good of mankind and not necessarily in each particular situation. Certainly, there are fathers that are a danger to children and need to be removed from homes. However, this does not change the truth (based in the nature of things) that fathers are more important in childrearing than are mothers--for the good of the species. Here is a quick way to validate this idea. At night drive into any large urban center in America (say Camden, NJ or Detroit, MI) where there is a high percentage of out-of-wedlock births. Unlock your car, and begin to walk around. You will quickly understand what I am suggesting.
The point is, fathers develop the internal and external endowments of children, particularly male children. If, for instance, a boy is raised without a father and he lives in a neighborhood without fathers, he will very likely grow up lacking internal restraints on his sexual and violent passions. He will also lack a father to prepare him for the job market and provide an entrée into the world of work--ergo, gangs and crime. In short, I am not the first person to suggest that fatherlessness leads to crime. A society with a high percentage of promiscuity and out-of-wedlock births is asking for its own destruction. Or as Pat Moynihan said, that community asks for and gets chaos. Promiscuity is against the nature of humankind.
Because angels appear throughout both Old and New Testaments, they are therefore a part of Christian doctrine and a legitimate subject of theological inquiry. Unfortunately, the study of angels tends to be relegated to something akin to either a New Age version of Christianity or as "Precious Moments" sentimentality where they appear as little cherubs on stationary and figurines. This is balderdash. Biblical doctrine necessitates that we take seriously the existence of angels and the implications of their existence. Consequently, here are a couple thoughts from Augustine and Aquinas to challenge our thinking about the angels.
Angels are altogether incorporeal
Aquinas noted: "In corporeal substances rank between God and corporeal creatures" ("Treatise on the Angels"). At minimum this means that angels do not have a corporeal nature such as humans. However, in the larger sense, this teaches us that there is a plethora of beings that stand between humans and God. We are not at the apex of creation. This tends to bring a little humility to the human race. Angels are also a challenge to philosophical materialism. That which is intellectual and spiritual stands above the material. This does not negate the goodness of the material world, as in Gnosticism, but it does bring a sense of ordering and priority to life. As Jesus said, "what profits a man if he gain the whole world and loose his soul."
Angels are created
Augustine wrote (Gen. ad lit.ii): "Since the angels were created, in the eternity of the Word, they enjoy holy and devout contemplation." Or as Aquinas put it, "It must be affirmed that angels and everything existing, except God, were made by God. God alone is His own existence; while in everything else the essence differs from the existence." This means that the angels have no ability to exist without God causing them. Only God is self-existent. Of course, nothing in the entire seen and unseen universe can come into existence without God causing its existence. Even energy/matter itself is totally contingent upon God and cannot exist separate from Him. Therefore, there are no spiritual beings, no matter how exalted they are, that are self-existent except the One and that is God. That is why angels are not divine nor can they ever become divine. No matter how long they may exist, they came into existence by Gods creative action; consequently, they are NOT self-existent. Self-existence means that one is uncreated. Only God is uncreated. The Creator must be uncreated in order for there to be a creation.
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read Beneath the weeping branches of an old willow tree, Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, For the world was intent on dragging me down.
And as if to ruin my rare quiet day, A young boy approached me, all tired from play. He stood right before me with his head tilted down And said with excitement, "Look what I found!"
In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, With its petals all faded, from no rain or light. Wanting him to take his dead flower and go play, I faked a small smile and then shifted away.
But instead of retreating he sat by my side And sniffed at the flower and declared with surprise, "It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too. That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."
The poor weed before me was dying or dead, No bright vibrant colors, no yellow or red. But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave. So I reached out my hand and said, "Just what I need."
But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, He held it mid-air without reason or plan. It was then that I noticed for the very first time That weed-toting boy could not see, he was blind.
I heard my voice quiver, tears shone like the sun As I thanked him for picking the very best one. "You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play, Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.
I sat there and wondered how he managed to see A self-pitying woman beneath an old tree. How did he know of my self-indulged plight? Perhaps in his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight.
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see The problem was not with the world, it was me. And for all of those times I myself had been blind I vowed to see beauty, and appreciate what's mine.
I held that wilted flower up to my nose And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose, And smiled as the boy, another weed in his hand, Went to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.
Father, I ask you to bless my friends reading this right now. Lord, show them a new revelation of Your love and power.
Holy Spirit, I ask You to minister to their spirit at this very moment. Where there is pain, give them Your peace and mercy.
Praise The Lord!
Where there is self doubting, release a renewed confidence in Your ability to work through them. Where there is tiredness, or exhaustion, I ask You to give them understanding, patience, and strength as they learn submission to Your leading.
Where there is spiritual stagnation, I ask You to renew them by revealing Your nearness, and by drawing them into greater intimacy with You. Where there is fear, reveal Your love, and release to them Your courage. Where there is a sin blocking them, reveal it, and break its hold over my friend's life.
I have suspeneded my blog site I may come back to it at a later date I am sorry that my blogs and site were not appreciated and lacked participation It just seems like my JH Colleagues have little interest in this format I have to devote my time and energy where it is appreciated It seems thats not the case here. I wish JH and My Colleagues here well...Love and blessings to all
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A delightful version of
the real warm loving Hillary,
not the "monster" media portrays
I am not Neocon or Republican, not "liberal but progressive"Rather, I like to say "progressive Independent" and independent of ideology, which really means: I think for myself.
My goal is to vanquish Neocons / Bush from this Land near and far... To make women wake up, get angry, protest and act! Aw come on . . . it shouldn't be that hard!......
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