Pearsall


Pearsall vice Auld Lang Syne
Interesting and horrifying to have lived into a latter age of the children of Rachel.
Conscience of nation and world, rant, Isaiah. Jeremiah, prophesy.
Not waxing sentimental over 2012, nor making merry, simply letting go. For all the bad and good, joy, grief, tears and laughter, Connecticut darkened all, giving new life and truth to 12th century Bernard of Cluny, de contemptu mundi and #595 in The Hymnal 1940
        The world is very evil,
        The times are waxing late;
        Be sober and keep vigil,
        The Judge is at the gate;
        The Judge that comes in mercy,
        The Judge that comes with might,
        To terminate the evil,
        To diadem the right.

        Arise, arise, good Christian,
        Let right to wrong succeed;
        Let penitential sorrow
        To heav'nly gladness lead ...
        
... and so on wrested from St. Bernard by John Mason Neale, whose portrait is as dour as his poem and the personality of his mentor. 
Wearing rose-coloured glasses and pushing to be on the cutting edge of social cool, the Church deleted the hymn, which offends sensibilities as we shed our sense and concept of sin. Not the sin of others, but broken the mirror. 

Morally bankrupt and blind, we do not see ourselves as we are and for what we are. For a nation and world of smug, self-righteous, certitudinous, good Christians, the liturgical Confession of Sin becomes rote, ablutional finger-wash on the way to the Meal. Rather than being assured, fed, and patted on the bunny, we need endlessly to be confronted with the Baptismal Covenant until we get it, and not Do you, but Will you.
Connecticut is not they, but we. 
From 2012, where to go, what to do in 2013 to make things right. 
It cannot be done, because we will not: we demand our rights.
Most frightening line of Bernard/Neale? “Arise, arise, good Christian.” μὴ γένοιτο  
Maranatha.
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