Felix Culpa

“God alone can make forgiveness something glorious to remember”

“God alone can forgive sins.”
Above and beyond its juridical meaning,
we must read this statement
as a sort of description of God.
Only He “knows how” to pardon.

We surely don’t.
According to the old saw, women forgive but never forget.
And as for men, theyre so self-centered
they forget
and very rarely take time, thought or trouble to forgive.
All in all, human forgiveness is a crushing thing,
an unpleasant memory
we can’t shake off.

The superiority of those who grant pardon
utterly quashes those who receive it.
There’s forgiveness, but no reassurance,
no consolation,
no encouragement.
God’s the only one who can manage all four together.

You see, forgiving kindly entails humiliating oneself.
The prodigal’s father doesn’t want to hear another word about the whole episode.
He gives a banquet.
That’s how God does it, too.
He alone can make forgiveness
something glorious to remember.
He’s so glad to absolve us
that those who’ve afforded Him that joy feel,
not like disagreeable, troublesome pests,
but like pampered children,
understood and heartened,
pleasing and useful to Him,
and infinitely better than they thought.
“O happy fault!” they could cry.
“If we weren’t sinners
and didn’t need pardon more than bread,
we’d have no way of knowing
how deep God’s love is.”*

Louis Evely

*Emphasis mine

Deathly Hallows?*

This one doesn’t sit well with me yet....I think it’s because it's a bit too descriptive: along the lines of HP and the Scary Bad Guy. The other titles have been more ambiguous as to whether the object/place/person/organization was good or bad. But perhaps this one will turn out to be less straightforward than it seems.....

Either way, I’m freaking excited.

*Note: if you have no idea what I’m talking about, this post is not intended for you.

The Technique of General Conversation

She turned to Ransom for the first time....Her failure to greet him at his arrival had resulted from her never having envisaged the possibility of a conversation between more than two speakers. And throughout the rest of their talk, her ignorance of the technique of general conversation gave a curious and disquieting quality to the whole scene. She had no notion of how to glance rapidly from one face to another, or to disentangle two remarks at once. Sometimes, she listened wholly to Ransom; sometimes wholly to the other, but never to both.

--Perelandra, C.S. Lewis

I remember being struck by this passage the first time I read Perelandra. To me, this demonstrated the thoroughness of Lewis’ imaginative vision. It would never have occurred to me that in a world comprised of only two people, those individuals would not instinctively know how to engage in conversation with three or more people. Yet, once pointed out to me, the idea seems completely obvious. The Lady’s struggle with group conversation serves as one more example to highlight the vast gulf that lies between her being and understanding and that of our own. This made her seem more alien to me than her green skin.

And yet....

Lately I have been mulling over that passage, and wondering exactly how well (if at all) I have mastered the technique of general conversation. Though unlike the Lady, I cannot plead lack of imagination or experience for any lack of technique.

Hey La, Hey La.....

My boyfriend's back!

I missed him.

Look for updates on his blog in the near future detailing his trip to another country.

Darkest Days

Monday marked the beginning of the earliest sunsets of the year. Until Wednesday, December 13th, the sun will set at 5:05 pm. It is already twilight by the time I change into my cycling gear, and completely dark long before I get home. If I stay a few minutes later at work, the sun has sunk below the horizon before I even leave my office to change clothes.

But I am enjoying this season of cycle commuting. I have headlight built from a garden spotlight that lights up the entire width of the narrow country roads I take home. My taillights are so bright, they come with a warning not to stare directly at them. So I feel perfectly safe riding home at night.

With no fears for my safety to stress me, I am free to enjoy these commutes as they are: a time to slip into a deep forgotten stillness. In the summer, my commute home is peaceful with that noisy industry of nature. Cardinals call and answer each other. Leaves rustle in the breeze. Squirrels tramp through the undergrowth. There are also the sounds of lawnmowers, farm equipment, dogs barking, and sometimes kids playing.

In the winter, however, all of those sounds are absent. I notice my labored breathing as I struggle up the hill, and the slight whirl my tires make on asphalt. I hear the wind, but only rushing past my ears. There isn’t much for it to disturb in the dead of winter. Except for the occasional passing car, this is all I hear. Even the sound of a car engine serves only to highlight how deep the silence is once it is gone.

I do not only experience an auditory silence, but also a visual silence. In the summer, my route home is a riot of green, with flowers and cows and horses and houses thrown in for variety’s sake. In the winter, the world outside my headlight resembles the background of a Lotte Reininger film: full of dim, vague silhouettes. Only two houses have Christmas lights, so mostly I see only a few lit windows or porch lights in distant farmhouses. The world, for a little while, nearly ceases to exist.

This absence of visual and auditory distraction allows my mind to wander more freely. My brain has a chance to revisit the mental flotsam accumulated throughout the day, and see if there is anything worth mulling over. So much of my life I am being bombarded by stimulus, my thoughts turned hither and thither like a leaf in the wind. Now, for a little while, they can pursue their own trails.

So while I will rejoice with each minute of sunlight gained in the evening as winter progresses and the days slowly lengthen, I am content with these dark days while they last. Finding contentment in the dark and the cold is the secret to successful winter cycle commuting.

Perhaps it applies to more than just cycling?