The Back of Our Lady of Victory (Buffalo) One of the things I love about the Irish (besides their beer) is their take on Catholicism. This is one ethnic group I would join if there were a sign up sheet. (Though my southern German is fun, too, what with the gnomes and all.)
Irish Catholics have managed to keep a sense of paganism alive and well in their Catholicism, and you have to admire the tenacity. Take the Celtic Cross. The "circle" behind it is the sun, or the main symbol in druidism.
For a really great read by an author who blends all of this into works of mystical, magical realism, pick up anything by Lisa Carey. Literally. Anything. My favorite (if I could name one) would be Every Visible Thing.
Right now, I'm reading The Path of Celtic Prayer by Calvin Miller, and the following was taken from that work.
The love and affection of the angels be to you,
The love and affection of the saints be to you,
The love and affection of heaven be to you,
To guard and cherish you.
May God shield you on every step,
May Christ aid you on every path,
May Spirit fill you on every slope,
On hill and on plain.
May the King shield you in the valleys,
May Christ aid you on the mountains,
May Spirit bathe you on the slopes,
In hollow, on hill, on plain,
Mountain, valley, and plain.
from The Carmina Gadelica
Thou art the pure love of the clouds,
Thou art the pure love of the skies,
Thou art the pure love of the stars,
Thou art the pure love of the moon,
Thou art the pure love of the sun,
Thou art the pure love of the heavens,
Thou art the pure love of the angels,
Thou art the pure love of Christ himself,
Thou art the pure love of God of all life.
Traditional
The love and affection of the saints be to you,
The love and affection of heaven be to you,
To guard and cherish you.
May God shield you on every step,
May Christ aid you on every path,
May Spirit fill you on every slope,
On hill and on plain.
May the King shield you in the valleys,
May Christ aid you on the mountains,
May Spirit bathe you on the slopes,
In hollow, on hill, on plain,
Mountain, valley, and plain.
from The Carmina Gadelica
Thou art the pure love of the clouds,
Thou art the pure love of the skies,
Thou art the pure love of the stars,
Thou art the pure love of the moon,
Thou art the pure love of the sun,
Thou art the pure love of the heavens,
Thou art the pure love of the angels,
Thou art the pure love of Christ himself,
Thou art the pure love of God of all life.
Traditional
What kind of prayer would you construct if you could synthesize all your beliefs and all your awe into one blended song of joy?
2 comments:
Calvin Miller!
I am impressed Christine!
Add Frederich Buechner and Ken Gire.
If any of these three have a book on the shelf, I buy it without so much as reading the title.
Anything these guys write will make you a better person for reading it.
In a different vein on the Irish and Catholics, Tim Russert's first book "Big Russ and Me" gives enormous insight into Buffalo's Irish Catholics and into the Jesuits.
After reading Russert, I picked up two more as a result. One is called Society of Jesus. It is the story of the most Catholic of Catholic, the Jesuits. They spawned the intellectualism within centuries of church life and are currently in opposition to the Pope, an about face of epic proportions since they were historically the Pope's staunchest defender.
The new breed of Jesuits see Catholicism as more of a Marxist operation, and are doing their best in defiance of the Pope to go that route.
The author is Malachi Martin, and he also did an excellent job on "Hostage to the Devil".
Russert's observations (and applause) for the Jesuits has to do with Canisius in Buffalo, a huge Jesuit education spot. They had a lifelong impact on Russert's character, and the read from Russert's dad, a garbage collector in Buffalo, is a crackup. The parallels to Erie are eerie.
Out of vein here but picked up after "Big Russ and Me", a sequel;
people who had memories of their father stirred by reading "Big Russ" wrote to Tim Russert.
The ecectic assortment of letters from all over were gathered by Russert and crafted into a second new book before he died.
It is called "Wisdom of our Fathers" and I have difficulty determining which Russert book I love the best. They are BOTH that good.
(If you have a dad, honor him with "Wisdom of Our Fathers" and he will feel loved by you).
Of the three authors at the beginning of this comment, Frederich Buechner is an insightful read. He does not carry the angst of Philip Yancy, but finds a way to make God understandable to any of us.
Ken Gire is the easiest read of the three.
Start with his early work "Windows of the Soul".
In this book, he manages to look at varied topics, music, art, etc and give glimpses into the soul from each. Amazingly, he then intertwines the topics to squeeze God into view in even better focus.
They are all chapter-ized for easy read, but my favorite was his story on Vincent Van Gogh (who I love). He was a Christian minister who went into the coal mines to preach to the poorest of the poor. He spoke to them of eternity and they could only fathom staying alive this day. It depressed him and sent him into a deep funk.
He ended up in an insane asylum in France. A nurse, one day opened the windows for air. Van Gogh looked out and saw fields of irises. He painted them. No one bought any Van Gogh paintings in his lifetime. He died penniless, a suicide. His depression returned over and over from his inability to convey the truth of Christ. His drawings took on conveying Christ.
"Irises" today sells for over $60 million, and I believe it can be seen at the Getty Museum in California.
"Wheatfields" is the story of communion.
"Starry, Starry Nights" is another effort at God-talk via painting and art.
Ken Gire switches here to the song "Vincent" by Don McLean. Gire stood in line at a store and the song came on. He left his spot and stood directly under the ceiling speaker to hear the words. That song by McClean has another title too: "Starry, Starry Nights", for it is a song about Vincent....Van Gogh.
What Van Gogh could not teach miners about Christ, he tried to convey in his paintings. He failed at both....until the message was unlocked decades after his death. That makes them priceless!
"weathered faces could not understand...."
Be a miner as you read the lyrics.
The lyrics to "Starry, Starry Nights" follow for you to see here.
Ken Gire crafted this song that he heard in a supermarket line, along with the art of Van Gogh, into an understanding of God using art AND music as Windows of the Soul...for you. His best book, IMO.
The song Vincent, or, Starry Starry Nights....good as BardBliss:
(Starry, Starry Night) lyrics
Artist: Don McLean
Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.
Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...
Wow! What a great question! I really have no idea - as it seems to change on a daily basis :-0
I'll have to ponder this one a bit further.....hmmmmmm.
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