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invicem sunt

I am blessed to be a witness
Apr 15 '14
It is necessary to repeat the truth over and over again, because the falsehoods around us are also being constantly repeated, not by individuals but by the masses, in newspapers and encyclopedias, in the schools and at the universities. Everywhere, falsehood is on top, comfortable and secure in the knowledge that the majority is on its side.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

(via hierarchical-aestheticism)

156 notes (via greluc & hierarchical-aestheticism)

Apr 15 '14
Something I find regrettable in contemporary Christianity is the degree to which it has abandoned its own heritage, in thought and art and literature. It was at the center of learning in the West for centuries—because it deserved to be. Now there seems to be actual hostility on the part of many Christians to what, historically, was called Christian thought, as if the whole point were to get a few things right and then stand pat. I believe very strongly that this world, these billions of companions on earth that we know are God’s images, are to be loved, not only in their sins, but especially in all that is wonderful about them. And as God is God of the living, that means we ought to be open to the wonderful in all generations.

57 notes (via sheddenm & ayjay)

Apr 14 '14
Every kiss provokes another. Ah, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring into life. How closely, in their abundance, are they pressed one against another; until lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour, as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.
— Swann’s Way, Marcel Proust  (via pavorst)

(Source: man-of-prose)

4,173 notes (via pavorst & man-of-prose)

Apr 13 '14
Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.
— Rumi   (via sedueced)

(Source: larmoyante)

116,442 notes (via tenthousandangels & larmoyante)

Apr 12 '14
I sought to hear the voice of God and climbed the topmost steeple, but God declared: ‘Go down again - I dwell among the people.’
— Bl. John Henry Newman (via fratermartin)

154 notes (via threeacresandacrow & fratermartin)

Apr 11 '14
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

11 notes (via invisibleforeigner)

Apr 10 '14

There is one saint in the calendar of the Church who has never been associated with the idea of punishment: even justice is alien to her, compared with the ideas of mercy and love. She is the one whom Catholics know as Our Lady.

Yet it is around this figure that the bitterest conflict has always been waged. No statues in Puritan England were more certain to be destroyed than hers, and the same was true in Spain in the 1930s. Ministers in their pulpits may question the divinity of Christ and cause no stir outside a few country rectories — but when the doctrine of the Assumption, which has been established as a feast of the Church for more than a thousand years, is defined as a dogma, the Archbishops of Canterbury and York claim that the division of Christendom has been widened. They believe in the resurrection of the dead — but to suggest that an actual resurrection has already taken place seems to them blasphemous.

No storm was raised when, a hundred years ago, Newman wrote: “Original sin had not been found in her, by the wear of her senses, and the waste of her frame and the decrepitude of years, propagating death. She died, but her death was a mere fact, not an effect; and, when it was over, it ceased to be.”

Temporarily there were other issues: the Protestant churches were worried by the idea of evolution, even the age of the earth was a cause of scandal because it was believed to contradict Genesis. But the conflict of science and religion always passes sooner or later: what remains is this mysterious savage war around the only figure of perfect human love.

What is the explanation? One theologian has explained it, for our generation, as a distrust of the concrete. We are so used to abstractions. Words like Democracy and Liberty can be used in quite opposite senses without arousing attention: they go in and out of our ears like air. So with religious belief. The Supreme Being, the Trinity, The Creator of all things, such phrases may once have excited thought, but they do so no longer. Even the concrete name Christ has become so diluted, into the Great Teacher, the First Communist, and the like, that only a small amount of opposition is raised by the idea that Christ is God — it is rather like saying Truth is God.

But the statement that Mary is the Mother of God remains something shocking, paradoxical, physical.

— Graham Greene, ‘Our Lady and her Assumption’, 1951, in Ian Thomson, ed., Articles of Faith: The collected Tablet journalism of Graham Greene, 19-20. (via thirstygargoyle)

96 notes (via greluc & thirstygargoyle)

Apr 9 '14
In Him He has from eternity bound Himself to each, to all. Along the entire line it holds, from the creatureliness of man, through the misery of man, to the glory promised to man.
— Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline (via invisibleforeigner)

11 notes (via invisibleforeigner)

Apr 8 '14
The smallest possible “survival unit,” indeed, appears to be the universe. At any rate, the ability of an organism to survive outside the universe has yet to be demonstrated. Inside it, everything happens in concert; not a breath is drawn but by the grace of an inconceivable series of vital connections joining an inconceivable multiplicity of created things in an inconceivable unity. But course it is preposterous for a mere individual human to espouse the universe—a possibility that is purely mental, and productive of nothing but talk. On the other hand, it may be that our marriages, kinships, friendships, neighborhoods, and all our forms and acts of homemaking are the rites by which we solemnize and enact our union with the universe. These ways are practical, proper, available to everybody, and they can provide for the safekeeping of the small acreages of the universe that have been entrusted to us. Moreover, they give the word “love” its only chance to mean, for only they can give it a history, a community, and a place. Only in such ways can love become flesh and do its worldly work.
— Wendell Berry, “Men and Women in Search of Common Ground,” Home Economics, pages 117-118 (via settledthingsstrange)

3 notes (via settledthingsstrange)

Apr 7 '14
I tell you the more I think, the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.
— Vincent van Gogh (via stealthelights)

68 notes (via tenthousandangels & stealthelights)