Zombies. These creatures constantly reappear in our culture. Why? Do they represent our deepest fears and failures? They’re dead, but they just don’t die! The subversive metaphor of the zombie can hide a truckload of meaning and cultural analysis. Why is the need to embody death as a zombie both cathartic and appealing? …
Promised Land Mess of life and mess of portion The precipice of grace placed to help us totter On these The grounds of life lived in the face of flaming swords and prohibitions to enter not the land of new humanity Enter not but enter soon Suffer well but suffer …
We are the wanderers We are the confused We are the pregnant; struggling to give birth We are the stimulated We are the despair We are the story less We are the profane We are the sacred We are the friendless We are the fatherless We are the overactive conscience; …
Theology Moral Theologian Cathleen Kaveny (Notre Dame) had a facinating discussion with John Stewart on the “Daily Show” about the debate over Catholic institutions and contraception. Both parts of this interview are well worth your time. Martin Luther certainly had a way with words. Generate random insults from this great …
‘Toll requiem’, said sun to earth,
As the grass got thin.
The star-wheel went, all nails and thorns,
Over mill and kirk and inn.The old sun died. The widowed earth
Tolled a black bell.
‘Our King will return’, said root to bone,
To the skeleton tree on the hill.At midnight, an ox and an ass,
Between lantern and star
Cried, Gloria…Lux in tenebris…
In a wintered byre.
Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and The winter sun creeps by the snow hills; The stubborn season has made stand. My life is light, waiting for the death wind, Like a feather on the back of my hand. Dust in sunlight and memory in corners Wait for …
The “Journey of the Magi” was written by T.S Eliot in 1927. Many interpret this poem as a reflection of Eliot’s own journey from agnosticism to Christian faith. A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For the journey, and such a long journey: …
Blue homespun and the bend of my breast keep warm this small hot naked star fallen to my arms. (Rest … you who have had so far to come.) Now nearness satisfies the body of God sweetly. Quiet he lies whose vigor hurled a universe. He sleeps whose eyelids have …
William Cowper was born in England on November 26, 1731. His father was a minister and his mother died when he was six years old. As a child, Cowper rarely lived at home except for a brief stint of nine months when he was eighteen. His early years were spent …