The Little Friar

Upon the dawn of Resurrection's day, When darkness fled before the rising sun, A tomb laid bare, where once the Savior lay, The victory of life and love begun. No stone could hold Him, nor the grave's embrace, For death itself was conquered by His might. In radiant glory, clothed in heavenly grace, He emerged triumphant from the depths of night. The world rejoiced, the heavens sang with praise, As hope and joy flooded each waiting heart. For in His rising, all our sins He did erase, And promised that from Him we'd never part. So let us lift our voices high and sing, Of Christ the Lord, our Savior and our King.

In the hush before the dawn's first blush of gold, Where shadows dance in darkness, stories untold, A world in slumber stirs, awaiting the day, As nature's chorus sings its dawn's display. Above the horizon, where heavens meet earth, The sun, with gentle grace, announces its birth. A symphony of colors, a palette so grand, Paints the sky with hues, as if by God's hand. On Easter morn, when the world is reborn, In the quiet of dawn, a promise sworn, The earth awakens with a joyous song, As nature joins the chorus, loud and strong. From mountaintop to valley low, Creation's voice begins to flow. The birds take flight, the flowers bloom, As life bursts forth from winter's tomb. In every blade of grass, in every tree, The heartbeat of the universe, wild and free. The rivers sing, the oceans roar, As Easter's tale is told once more. For on this day, a miracle unfurled, The greatest story ever told to the world. From death to life, from dark to light, Easter's...

"All our life is a festival.  Since we are persuaded that God is present everywhere on all sides, we praise God as we till the ground, we sing hymns as we sail the sea, we feel God's inspiration in all that we do ...  Whenever we pay attention to God, every place and every time becomes truly holy." -- Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis 7.7.39. "So the whole of our lifetime is a festival.  For when Paul said, 'Let us keep the feast' [1 Corinthians 5.7-8], he wasn't referring to the Passover or Pentecost.  He was pointing out that all time is a festival for Christians ...  For what good thing has not already come to pass?  The Son of God was made human for you.  He freed you from death and called you to a kingdom.  Now that you have gained such good things -- and are still gaining them -- how can you do anything less than 'keep the feast' all your life?  So let no one be downcast about poverty or illness or the cunning of enemies.  It is a ...

      Upon this Holy Saturday, we wait, In silence deep, with hearts subdued and still, The world in solemn pause, anticipates The promise of the dawn, the heavenly will.       In quiet contemplation, we reflect On mysteries profound, beyond our ken, The darkness of the tomb, the soul's defect, Yet hope arises, like a distant glen.       For in this hallowed space of sacred rest, We sense the stirring of the Divine breath, A whisper in the silence, manifest, A harbinger of life beyond the death. So let us keep this vigil, steadfast, sure, Awaiting resurrection's light, so pure.

He is despised and rejected of men.  Isaiah liii.3. Is it not strange, the darkest hour That ever dawn’d on sinful earth Should touch the heart with softer power For comfort than an angel’s mirth? That to the Cross the mourner’s eye should turn Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn? Sooner than where the Easter sun Shines glorious on yon open grave, And to and fro the tidings run, “Who died to heal, is risen to save?” Sooner than where upon the Saviour’s friends The very Comforter in light and love descends? Yet so it is: for duly there The bitter herbs of earth are set, Till temper’d by the Saviour’s prayer, And with the Saviour’s life-blood wet, They turn to sweetness, and drop holy balm, Soft as imprison’d martyr’s deathbed calm. All turn to sweet — but most of all That bitterest to the lip of pride, When hopes presumptuous fade and fall, Or Friendship scorns us, duly tried, Or Love, the flower that closes up for fear When rude and selfish spirits breathe too near. Then ...

In the stillness of this solemn Good Friday night, The church, stripped bare, stands in reverent repose, As shadows deepen, and stars softly alight, We feel the weight of sorrow, as darkness grows. Gone are the candles' flickering flames, The altar cloth removed, the chalice bare, Symbolizing Christ's sacrificial aims, His agony, his suffering, his love to share. No more adornment, no pomp or display, Just the rawness of truth, stripped to the core, In this barrenness, we humbly pray, Embracing the silence, longing for more. For in the stripping of the church, we find, A deeper understanding, a truth enshrined.

Upon this Maundy Thursday, shadows fall, As evening casts its solemn, quiet veil, A time when echoes of the ancient call Resound within the sanctuary's pale. The table set, simple bread and wine, Remind us of the sacrifice to come, Of love transcendent, poured like sacred brine, In humble service, not of martyrdom. For on this night, the Master bowed to wash The feet of those who followed in his way, A gesture of humility, not to squash, But to uplift and teach how to obey. So let us in this moment deeply dwell, And serve each other, as his words compel.

The focus of the Gospel for Holy Wednesday (John 13.21-32) is on the betrayal of Judas.  For this reason, it is sometimes called Spy Wednesday. Spy Wednesday, whispered secrets in the air, Betrayer's shadow cast upon the scene. Judas, his conscience heavy with despair, For silver's gleam, he sold his soul, unclean. In shadows deep, the plot begins to weave, A tragic tale of love and treachery. The Master's fate, the mournful hearts believe, Yet hope still blooms amidst the dark and eerie. The table set, the bread and wine they share, A final supper 'neath the evening sky. The weight of destiny, they cannot bear, Yet through it all, redemption's light draws nigh. Spy Wednesday tells of human frailty, But through the darkness, shines divinity. -- Spy Wednesday 2024

In supper's quiet, shadows draped the room, As friends around the table gathered near, Yet in their midst, foreboding sense of gloom, As whispered words revealed a heart sincere. "Betrayed by one among you," Jesus said, A heavy truth that pierced the evening air, A moment fraught with tension, fear, and dread, For one would falter in the tempter's snare. Peter, bold and brash, declared his loyalty, Though warned of faltering, thrice he denied, Yet in his weakness, found humility, Redemption's promise could not be denied. In John's recount, a tale of love and loss, Where faith is tested, and grace bears the cross. --based on John 13.21-38

In the somber shadows of Good Friday's eve, Where darkness falls, and hearts do grieve, A solemn ode to naked truth I weave, In the hush of night, where sorrows cleave. Behold the naked truth, stripped bare, Exposed to the world, devoid of care, Innocence shrouded, no garments to wear, On the cross, humanity's burden to bear. In darkness, the world finds its repose, As anguish deepens, and sorrow grows, The weight of sin, like a heavy throes, Upon the soul, where despair flows. In the absence of light, we seek a sign, A glimmer of hope, a sacred design, Yet, in the darkness, we must align, With the path of redemption, divine. Good Friday's tale, a story profound, Where nakedness and darkness are crowned, Yet, in this despair, grace is found, As love's eternal light does astound. So let us ponder in this sacred hour, The depth of mercy, the saving power, For in the darkness, blooms love's flower, On Good Friday, in solemn dower.

In ancient streets where dust and shadows play, Jerusalem, cradle of faith and strife, Amidst the clamor, sorrow found its way, As Jesus wept o'er the tumult of life. His eyes beheld the city's ancient walls, Yet saw beyond the stone, the heart laid bare, For in its streets, where fervent fervor calls, He sensed the burden of despair and care. "Oh, Jerusalem, how oft would I gather Thy children, as a hen her brood, in love, But ye would not, and now the shadows gather, The tears I shed, a symbol from above. For in this sacred city, strife and pain, Yet love's eternal light still strives to reign."

A student asked:  "If we are saved by grace, and not by works, why do you put so much stress on ascetic practices as essential to the Christian life?  Why should it be necessary, or even useful, to fast as we do, to make countless confessions during Lent, to stand at certain points in worship, to donate so much money to the Church?"  (This last one -- well, it requires some context.  I tell students preparing for ministry that money, especially tithing, is an important part of pastoral spiritual discipline precisely because our culture is uniquely economically driven.  Three things will destroy a ministry in minutes -- money, sex, and power.  Money is the most neglected in conversations about ministerial spirituality.)  Then he went on:  "Aren't all these things works?  And what happens if I don't do them?  Am I cast out of the Kingdom and basically condemned to hell?" Okay, those are real questions that demand real answers.  And I ...

A friend asked if I could compose something to use with a parishioner to bless some prayer beads.  Below is what I've written for them.

The most frustrating aspect of speaking or writing about Palestine/Israel over the years is to encounter the same evasive, knee-jerk reactions:  "It's all so complex", "There are two sides to the story", "We should leave them to deal with it". When I ask, "What is so complex about the situation?", the usual answer is "Israel also has a right to exist".   This response betrays a heart-breaking case of historical amnesia.  In the late 1970s the PLO (then the main political arm of the Palestinian people) demanded a two-state solution.  Where in the world has any people been willing to surrender 80 per cent of its ancestral lands to a foreign colonial power?  And in the Oslo Peace Accords of 1993, the PLO renounced the use of violence and accepted the Israeli state.  What did they get in return?  Continuing ultra-right Jewish settler violence; and Netanyahu and his Likud party scuppered the accord which led to the second Intifada (or ...

A deer is bounding, forest-hidden, a hunter races forth with speed. On hill, through dale, pursuit unending, a rest I seek to quell my need. The wind, inconstant, plays and teases through boughs and leaves of restless trees, and I, inconstant, ever-driven, am seeking emptiness to please. The bow sends out a sudden arrow; the deer untouched it passes by; this craving, driving, heart's own yearning through paths of empty air will fly. I stumble, stutter, and am clumsy as feet are aching, worn and sore; the pain is like a close companion, a memory of something more. Exhaustion makes my heart grow humble as weariness impedes my pride, reminds me of my ache-filled folly, of Adam old who has not died. The legs exhausted homeward wander; in ache I wish to reach my end. The weary roads are swiftest highways and heavenward most surely bend.

Gavin Evans, There was no Jesus , over at "Aeon", provides a very good example of the sort of pseudo-history that is found in Jesus-Mythers, so it's worth taking a moment to consider how historical evidence works, the historical evidence in the case of people like Jesus and Socrates (the latter being a comparison case brought up by Evans), and the problems with the general kind of argument that Evans is attempting to make.  (I've already done this once before , but this stuff pops up often enough these days that it's silly to ignore it.) Historical inference is fundamentally based on a few general inferential patterns. The first, and by far the most important, of these, is causal. We have an effect; from the effect, we conclude the cause. In historical matters, the effects are usually things like texts and monuments. The kind of causality is testimonial (in a broad sense in which monuments as well as texts testify to something). Also quite important is the fact th...

Finally we reach the end of Louise Perry's The Case Against the Sexual Revolution , a conclusion entitled "Listen to Your Mother." Perry starts her Conclusion by summarizing the big points of the book, captured in her provocative chapter titles, along with sharing a list of advice that she would offer her own daughter, advice that she wishes all young women being raised in hookup culture could hear.  Some of Perry's advice to young women and daughters: Distrust any person or ideology that puts pressure on you to ignore your moral intuition.  Chivalry is actually a good thing.  We all have to control our sexual desires, and men particularly so, given their greater physical strength and average higher sex drives. A man who is aroused by violence is a man to steer well clear of, whether or not he uses the vocabulary of BDSM to excuse his behavior.  If he can maintain an erection while beating a woman, he isn't safe to be alone with. Consent workshops are mostly usele...

We're coming to the end of this review series.  In this post we finish up the final chapter of Louise Perry's The Case Against the Sexual Revolution . There is a Conclusion to the book, which we'll turn to next. As Perry wraps up the final chapter of the book, entitled "Marriage Is Good," she returns to the demands of child-rearing upon women.  We all know how much it takes to care for and raise children.  And here's the irony:  If feminists want women to have kids and pursue full-time careers, marriage is even more necessary.  Having a domestic partner is critical for female emancipation.  Only with a committed partner doing their share on the domestic front will women be free enough to pursue their careers.  Beyond the very wealthy who can hire a nanny, a cook, and a maid, most single mothers can't do both things at once, raise kids and pursue a full-time career.  True, this vision of marriage-as-domestic-partnership demands a shake-up in how ma...

If you've followed this series you know that the primary analytical tool Perry uses in criticizing the sexual revolution are the adaptive asymmetries men and women faced throughout our evolutionary history.  These particular reproductive pressures produced distinctive sexual psychologies between the sexes.  Given the risks and costs of pregnancy and child-rearing in primitive ecosystems, women evolved sexual preferences for a "high investment mate," privileging emotional intimacy and relational fidelity.  Males, by contrast, facing little adaptive cost for sex, evolved a sexual psychology which privileged sexual access and opportunity, an openness to casual sex with multiple partners across the lifespan.  Given these differences, Perry's argument throughout The Case Against the Sexual Revolution  has been that the sexual revolution has been good for only one of the sexes.  The sexual revolution demands that women "have sex like men," asking them to mortify ...

Continuing with the final chapter, Perry starts by noting that feminism has had a fraught relationship with motherhood.  It's not hard to see why.  Throughout history, having a child has kept women from stepping into autonomy and freedom. Reproductive biology has kept women tethered to children in a way men have avoided.  This has struck many feminists as deeply and profoundly unjust.  Motherhood has been a sign and constant reminder of bondage and oppression. Consequently, a goal of many feminists has been to liberate women from these biological bonds and obligations.  For a woman to be truly free she had to reject motherhood, or at least not let having children have any impact upon her goals, desires, dreams, projects and career.  Motherhood has to be reduced and delimitated.  The vision here is the neoliberal vision of human flourishing: to stand independent, free and autonomous, to reject dependency.  And this, argues Perry, is the fatal flaw....