days of lengthening light
It
is early morning as, after several years back on Apple, I continue trying to
retrain myself to use a PC on this new office laptop with Windows 8.1 and MS Office sumpmnother, wondering why Helvetica is not available on the scrolldown font
listing. But, recalling Jeremy’s scathe about all things MS, I understand. On principle declining MS defaults then, I select Calibri over Arial, even though it may not make it past the Publish button.
And not yet having read the morning news, so not knowing whether the Malaysian airliner wreckage has been located. My mind is on Bernard of Morlas, as the hymnal calls him, alternatively Morlaix, more familiarly Cluny. Bernard of Cluny. God bless him, poor Bernie would never have been accepted into the Optimists Club. And had, by some bizarre twist, he been accepted and initiated, the club would have drummed him out in disgrace upon reading his first line.
De Contemptu Mundi, On Contempt for the World
Bernard is in mind this seasonally almost Spring morning of 62F. Dank, but at least there’s a large red star overhead: not winking, it must be Mars. And the blinking channel marker far across St Andrews Bay is clearly visible, proving there’s no fog. Maybe it is almost springtime, at least from the sun's viewpoint, in terms of worldly seasons. Lent, that is to say, when days begin to len-then, which is what Lent is, the vernal season of Lengthening Days, "days of lengthening light" as in "Welcome, Happy Morning! age to age shall say." But my mind is on fate and the anguish of those who loved someone on MH370. They might well fathom Bernard.
He lived in the eleven-hundreds of the Common Era, and what he saw in and of mankind seems to have been no more true then than earlier in the time of Noah, or today nearly a millennium after: ach, our permanent condition. Bernard writes, draws, a discouraging picture of mankind – what the hell, this is my blogpost, I don’t have to render gender-inclusive if I don’t like. It’s not as if I were casting the lone vote against the dumpy NKorean with the bad haircut, I can say "mankind" instead of "humanity" or "people" if I DWP.
But instead of h___ and DWP, do make that heliotrope and daisy.
Bernard is in mind because it’s Lent and one apropos hymn of his poem has been excised from our hymnal (not that we ever sang it), even though it perfectly addresses what is. He isn’t here talking about the material world, but about us, stewards, in our certainty that only we have it right. Have what right? Everything, when in fact we have nothing right and everything wrong. Here’s the hymn, Neale’s extract from Bernie's poem.
And not yet having read the morning news, so not knowing whether the Malaysian airliner wreckage has been located. My mind is on Bernard of Morlas, as the hymnal calls him, alternatively Morlaix, more familiarly Cluny. Bernard of Cluny. God bless him, poor Bernie would never have been accepted into the Optimists Club. And had, by some bizarre twist, he been accepted and initiated, the club would have drummed him out in disgrace upon reading his first line.
De Contemptu Mundi, On Contempt for the World
Bernard is in mind this seasonally almost Spring morning of 62F. Dank, but at least there’s a large red star overhead: not winking, it must be Mars. And the blinking channel marker far across St Andrews Bay is clearly visible, proving there’s no fog. Maybe it is almost springtime, at least from the sun's viewpoint, in terms of worldly seasons. Lent, that is to say, when days begin to len-then, which is what Lent is, the vernal season of Lengthening Days, "days of lengthening light" as in "Welcome, Happy Morning! age to age shall say." But my mind is on fate and the anguish of those who loved someone on MH370. They might well fathom Bernard.
He lived in the eleven-hundreds of the Common Era, and what he saw in and of mankind seems to have been no more true then than earlier in the time of Noah, or today nearly a millennium after: ach, our permanent condition. Bernard writes, draws, a discouraging picture of mankind – what the hell, this is my blogpost, I don’t have to render gender-inclusive if I don’t like. It’s not as if I were casting the lone vote against the dumpy NKorean with the bad haircut, I can say "mankind" instead of "humanity" or "people" if I DWP.
But instead of h___ and DWP, do make that heliotrope and daisy.
Bernard is in mind because it’s Lent and one apropos hymn of his poem has been excised from our hymnal (not that we ever sang it), even though it perfectly addresses what is. He isn’t here talking about the material world, but about us, stewards, in our certainty that only we have it right. Have what right? Everything, when in fact we have nothing right and everything wrong. Here’s the hymn, Neale’s extract from Bernie's poem.
"The World Is Very Evil"
by
Bernard of Morlas, 12th century
Translated by John M. Neale, 1818-1866
1. 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.
2. Arise, arise,
good Christian,
Let right to wrong
succeed;
Let penitential sorrow
To heav'nly gladness
lead,
To light that hath
no evening,
That knows no moon
nor sun,
The light so new and
golden,
The light that is
but one.
3. O home of
fadeless splendor,
Of flow'rs that bear no thorn,
Where they shall
dwell as children
Who here as exiles
mourn.
Midst pow'r that
knows no limit,
Where knowledge has
no bound,
The beatific vision
Shall glad the
saints around.
4. Strive, man, to
win that glory;
Toil, man, to gain
that light;
Send hope before to
grasp it
Till hope be lost in
sight.
Exult, O dust and
ashes,
The Lord shall be
thy part;
His only, His forever,
Thou shalt be and
thou art.
5. O sweet and
blessed country,
The home of God's
elect!
O sweet and blessed
country
That eager hearts
expect!
Jesus, in mercy
bring us
To that dear land of
rest,
Who art, with God
the Father
And Spirit, ever
blest.
If the judge is at the gate as Bernie says, evidently the gate is locked and he doesn't have a key. Having said bad words, I'm not signing this morning's post.