Tuesday, January 12, 2010
2:45 PM
Returning to the man who hated God, yet loved His mother, one is again baffled. The fact is as mad as preferring the sun to the moon. The latter sustains no life by virtue of her luminous beams; her light is not even her own, but a reflection of the self-sufficient radiance of the sun. The sun is the very force binding the system of man's world together-his only protection against the cold, sterile world of space without. Yet, many people do say they prefer the moon.
The reason given is often that her light does not hurt their eyes. Her beauty is soft, gentle, and mysterious. She does not burn, nor does she blot out the brilliance of other heavenly bodies, and the stars shine at her side. The moon does not give life, but she soothes it, though not even doing so of her own power, and for that reason she is preferred. There it is. Is it rational? No, but it is held.
And it is true that Our Lady does not hurt us, as she demands nothing for herself, whereas Our Lord demands everything little thing our small selves can give. It is the same case when some married people prefer their friends to their spouses, and this is also unsound. A woman's confidante may pat her hand, understand with all sweetness the trials of her inner life, and counsel her in ways that a woman's husband could not (or could not in a way that she would heed), but she is still only the lady's friend. The fruit of their intercourse can only be ideas and feelings, but the fruit of man and wife is miraculous. It is another body, endowed with a soul. Another creature, it is procreation. Friendship is sterile; marriage begets and conceives.
But then, a lover is so demanding! A woman can merely smile at her friend during a festivity, embrace her, drop a word of fondness, and consider her obligation as a friend fulfilled. However, the man who loves her wants to dance with her. The more intense his devotion, the more turns he wishes for. When his love is disappointed, he is pained, and the more ardent his temperament, the less he can hide it. And the sight of pain is so disagreeable! Even more so when one is expected to repent for having caused that pain.
The lover proves even less reasonable in that he would actually prefer his beloved to be alone with him, and expects her to leave behind the gay company of others to be at his side. It would be pleasant to laugh with and engage with other people at a feast, but there is that earnest lover entreating fervently (and rather embarrassingly at your elbow) 'How long will you keep putting Me off?' (Sister Faustina Kowalska's Diary: Divine Mercy in My Soul).
Scripture and Saints have said again and again that Our Lord is a Divine Lover, and how hated does that fact make the Catholic Church in this age. Before her, it was the prologue of this Love that caused the Hebraic people to be so despised by their enemies. Why would they not simply sacrifice to the local gods in their places of exile? Why could they not just pacify maniacal rulers by patting them on the head and humour them with the affirmation that they were divine? No, they had to put their stubborn feet down and say that their jealous Lord would not allow for their hearts to be devoted to any other thing, even an imaginary one.
Nor would He even allow for an exterior show of honour to false deities. A woman can lie with a man without loving him, but a true husband will not stand for his wife prostituting herself, whatever the reason. The Hebrew God was not a distant force into which a man could tap for his personal welfare, nor a capricious superhuman who would in turn be bored or interested by the inferior creatures scurrying below his throne on Olympus. Nor again was He the figurehead of a philosophy-not actually existent, but the culmination of a very fine principle which one ought to adhere to for the sake of one's own virtue. He instead presented Himself as both an omniscient, omnipotent Being and a pitifully desperate Wooer.
If a king leapt from his throne to throw himself at the feet of a lowly woman in the crowd, he might find his people, and her, bewildered and scornful enough to knock his crown off. The person of his gentle, beautiful mother is not likely to bear any of this ill feeling. Her crown is thus often left in tact.
Returning to the wilful young woman and her devotee, it is not necessary that any of the resentment arising in her at her admirer's demands should apply itself to his gently tempered mother or sister. This does however depend on her loving them to begin with. The iconoclastic soul who cannot move past the phase where she envies the gentle soul that has known her beau longer than she (and knows better how to please him) is not the soul being discussed at present. This soul has moved past pettiness and grown to love that dear woman who has been with her beloved one all his life, the mother whose love for him has moved her maternal heart to invite this soul into her affection as well.
Yet, as time wears on, the young woman may find it easier and easier to love her wooer's mother, and discover it to be harder and harder to wax in affection for him as she ought. Selfishness does not prevent gratitude, but it does inhibit the growth of fervour and the submission of one's own will. If the girl casts the young man off, she may find herself regretting more the loss of friendship with his mother than with him-at least, at that short-sighted moment.
Such is the case with souls that had once embraced Christ in His Church. In the dawn of His light, they erect a throne for the magnificent Lover, the first streams of Grace being sweet to their parched souls. Some of these converts may at first meet with suspicion the other souls attached to Him and in devotion to Him, e.g. his foster father, Joseph, his chief apostle, Peter, but most especially His spotless mother. Yet, in the humble, loving soul, a creature so perfect and so devoted to the Lord they both love can only finally win a prominent place in their affection.
However, as man is matter and matter wearies, either in the individual soul or in the coming generations of nations, rebellion may seed itself in the heart of man. Who is this distant God that not only demands the adherence of one's intellect, but also the intimate devotion of his heart? No ruler asks his subject to abstain from gluttony at meals, no teacher pries so deeply into his student's volition as to expect inward affirmation, and no friends believe they have the right to know a man's innermost thoughts, much less the right to command them.
Forgetting that he owes his very being to Christ the King, man's selfishness is all too keen to topple His crown when it so pleases him. Forgetting the original sweetness of faith either in his own soul or in the ages before him, he plants his insolent mallet in the image of his Lord. When he turns from Christ's crown to the mother's, his hand may find itself restrained. Why demolish any devotion to that harmless creature, with no power of her own, who offers only love, and does not ask that anyone should come to her to seek forgiveness for she judges no one? With either a patronizing sneer or a grudging nod of decrepit piety, she is left alone.
And so we have nations whose rulers and peoples who do not attempt to live by His law. The Kingship of Christ is a dirty phrase, even amongst those who profess to house Him in their hearts. Yet, in the strangest places, at the oddest times, an undertow trips the feet of powerful in the world. Pragmatic Ireland fights to keep abortion from staining her land, and the fight goes on in the rudderless Americas to dam that tide of blood. Accommodating Poland wears the mark of Our Lord upon her sleeve, and refuses to let the direst of ungodly acts within her borders. Why? What have these nations in common? On the soil of Erin, there is a queen in Knock. Over the Americas waves the tilma of a Lady. Circling the higher tower of the basilica in Kraków is the golden crown of Regina Poloniae.
Man's eyes must grow very owl-like and dim, and his acts must sink to the blackest depravity to hate the light of the Moon. As he is matter and ever changing, man will either decline or rise throughout his course. It is a most likely event then, that he who truly loves the light of the Moon, will yearn for that light's Source again.
The reason given is often that her light does not hurt their eyes. Her beauty is soft, gentle, and mysterious. She does not burn, nor does she blot out the brilliance of other heavenly bodies, and the stars shine at her side. The moon does not give life, but she soothes it, though not even doing so of her own power, and for that reason she is preferred. There it is. Is it rational? No, but it is held.
And it is true that Our Lady does not hurt us, as she demands nothing for herself, whereas Our Lord demands everything little thing our small selves can give. It is the same case when some married people prefer their friends to their spouses, and this is also unsound. A woman's confidante may pat her hand, understand with all sweetness the trials of her inner life, and counsel her in ways that a woman's husband could not (or could not in a way that she would heed), but she is still only the lady's friend. The fruit of their intercourse can only be ideas and feelings, but the fruit of man and wife is miraculous. It is another body, endowed with a soul. Another creature, it is procreation. Friendship is sterile; marriage begets and conceives.
But then, a lover is so demanding! A woman can merely smile at her friend during a festivity, embrace her, drop a word of fondness, and consider her obligation as a friend fulfilled. However, the man who loves her wants to dance with her. The more intense his devotion, the more turns he wishes for. When his love is disappointed, he is pained, and the more ardent his temperament, the less he can hide it. And the sight of pain is so disagreeable! Even more so when one is expected to repent for having caused that pain.
The lover proves even less reasonable in that he would actually prefer his beloved to be alone with him, and expects her to leave behind the gay company of others to be at his side. It would be pleasant to laugh with and engage with other people at a feast, but there is that earnest lover entreating fervently (and rather embarrassingly at your elbow) 'How long will you keep putting Me off?' (Sister Faustina Kowalska's Diary: Divine Mercy in My Soul).
Scripture and Saints have said again and again that Our Lord is a Divine Lover, and how hated does that fact make the Catholic Church in this age. Before her, it was the prologue of this Love that caused the Hebraic people to be so despised by their enemies. Why would they not simply sacrifice to the local gods in their places of exile? Why could they not just pacify maniacal rulers by patting them on the head and humour them with the affirmation that they were divine? No, they had to put their stubborn feet down and say that their jealous Lord would not allow for their hearts to be devoted to any other thing, even an imaginary one.
Nor would He even allow for an exterior show of honour to false deities. A woman can lie with a man without loving him, but a true husband will not stand for his wife prostituting herself, whatever the reason. The Hebrew God was not a distant force into which a man could tap for his personal welfare, nor a capricious superhuman who would in turn be bored or interested by the inferior creatures scurrying below his throne on Olympus. Nor again was He the figurehead of a philosophy-not actually existent, but the culmination of a very fine principle which one ought to adhere to for the sake of one's own virtue. He instead presented Himself as both an omniscient, omnipotent Being and a pitifully desperate Wooer.
If a king leapt from his throne to throw himself at the feet of a lowly woman in the crowd, he might find his people, and her, bewildered and scornful enough to knock his crown off. The person of his gentle, beautiful mother is not likely to bear any of this ill feeling. Her crown is thus often left in tact.
Returning to the wilful young woman and her devotee, it is not necessary that any of the resentment arising in her at her admirer's demands should apply itself to his gently tempered mother or sister. This does however depend on her loving them to begin with. The iconoclastic soul who cannot move past the phase where she envies the gentle soul that has known her beau longer than she (and knows better how to please him) is not the soul being discussed at present. This soul has moved past pettiness and grown to love that dear woman who has been with her beloved one all his life, the mother whose love for him has moved her maternal heart to invite this soul into her affection as well.
Yet, as time wears on, the young woman may find it easier and easier to love her wooer's mother, and discover it to be harder and harder to wax in affection for him as she ought. Selfishness does not prevent gratitude, but it does inhibit the growth of fervour and the submission of one's own will. If the girl casts the young man off, she may find herself regretting more the loss of friendship with his mother than with him-at least, at that short-sighted moment.
Such is the case with souls that had once embraced Christ in His Church. In the dawn of His light, they erect a throne for the magnificent Lover, the first streams of Grace being sweet to their parched souls. Some of these converts may at first meet with suspicion the other souls attached to Him and in devotion to Him, e.g. his foster father, Joseph, his chief apostle, Peter, but most especially His spotless mother. Yet, in the humble, loving soul, a creature so perfect and so devoted to the Lord they both love can only finally win a prominent place in their affection.
However, as man is matter and matter wearies, either in the individual soul or in the coming generations of nations, rebellion may seed itself in the heart of man. Who is this distant God that not only demands the adherence of one's intellect, but also the intimate devotion of his heart? No ruler asks his subject to abstain from gluttony at meals, no teacher pries so deeply into his student's volition as to expect inward affirmation, and no friends believe they have the right to know a man's innermost thoughts, much less the right to command them.
Forgetting that he owes his very being to Christ the King, man's selfishness is all too keen to topple His crown when it so pleases him. Forgetting the original sweetness of faith either in his own soul or in the ages before him, he plants his insolent mallet in the image of his Lord. When he turns from Christ's crown to the mother's, his hand may find itself restrained. Why demolish any devotion to that harmless creature, with no power of her own, who offers only love, and does not ask that anyone should come to her to seek forgiveness for she judges no one? With either a patronizing sneer or a grudging nod of decrepit piety, she is left alone.
And so we have nations whose rulers and peoples who do not attempt to live by His law. The Kingship of Christ is a dirty phrase, even amongst those who profess to house Him in their hearts. Yet, in the strangest places, at the oddest times, an undertow trips the feet of powerful in the world. Pragmatic Ireland fights to keep abortion from staining her land, and the fight goes on in the rudderless Americas to dam that tide of blood. Accommodating Poland wears the mark of Our Lord upon her sleeve, and refuses to let the direst of ungodly acts within her borders. Why? What have these nations in common? On the soil of Erin, there is a queen in Knock. Over the Americas waves the tilma of a Lady. Circling the higher tower of the basilica in Kraków is the golden crown of Regina Poloniae.
Man's eyes must grow very owl-like and dim, and his acts must sink to the blackest depravity to hate the light of the Moon. As he is matter and ever changing, man will either decline or rise throughout his course. It is a most likely event then, that he who truly loves the light of the Moon, will yearn for that light's Source again.
Labels:
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
About Me
- Jacobitess
- Warsaw, Poland
- Domine, spero quia mundum vicisti. Lord, I trust that Thou hast overcome the world. Panie, ufam, żeś pokonał świat.
2 comments:
Hello Jacobitess from Ireland,
You have some extraordinary posts. Your writing is clear, beautiful and thought provoking! With such English are you really a Polish native... and living in Seoul, Korea?
Best,
Julian
Woops, sorry to mislead you Julian! I feel so guilty receiving that praise as I am a Tennesseean who left South Korea three years ago and is now living in Warsaw!
Thank you for the lovely compliment, and God bless Eire!
Post a Comment