Valuing human rights
A humble person is one who, like the humble Mary, says, “The Powerful One has done great things in me.” Each of us has an individual greatness. God would not be our author if we were something worthless.
A humble person is one who, like the humble Mary, says, “The Powerful One has done great things in me.” Each of us has an individual greatness. God would not be our author if we were something worthless.
In Agathangelos we find Gregory the Illuminator giving instruction, with fasting and prayer, leading up to “a new and wonderful birth in fatherly fashion, by his holy and liberal right hand; to give birth once again to everyone by baptism from water and the womb of the Spirit.” We read that he baptized the king and the people in the River Euphrates, and that the water stopped flowing:
In the midst of the debates over ritualism, James DeKoven, a clerical member of the House of Deputies, vigorously espoused the Anglo-Catholic position. . . . Concerned about the evangelicals’ efforts to restrict the range of doctrinal and liturgical beliefs in the Episcopal Church, DeKoven delivered a memorable speech to his fellow deputies in 1871. He defended ritualism on three grounds.
Let us look into the mystery this incident imported. Whatever soul among you wishes to be truly faithful, anoint the feet of the Lord with precious ointment like Mary did. That ointment was righteousness, and therefore it was [exactly] a pound weight: but it was ointment of pure nard, very precious.
As soon as ever you awake in the morning, strive as much as you can to keep all worldly thoughts out of your mind, till you have presented the first fruits of the day to God, which will be an excellent preparative, to make you spend the rest of it the better; and therefore be sure to sing the Morning and Evening Hymn in your chamber devoutly,
It is a common assumption that the New Testament clearly states in several places that Joseph and Jesus were carpenters, but that is not the case. There are only two references to their trade. Mark refers to Jesus as a carpenter (6:3), and Matthew calls him “the carpenter’s son” (13:55). . . . Many scholars believe that “carpenter” is an inaccurate translation, although it has become a deeply rooted tradition.
You were conducted by the hand to the holy pool of sacred baptism, just as Christ was conveyed from the cross to the sepulcher close at hand. You submerged yourself three times in the water and emerged; by this symbolic action you were secretly re-enacting the burial of Christ three days in the tomb. Just as our Saviour spent three days and nights in the womb of the earth, so you upon first emerging were representing Christ’s first day in the earth, and by your immersion his first night.
The Spirit elsewhere is a witness that even uncultivated ways have been created by the Most High—I am, then, first and foremost unlearned, an unlettered exile who cannot plan for the future. But this much I know for sure. Before I had to suffer, I was like a stone lying in the deep mud. Then he who is mighty came and in his mercy he not only pulled me out but lifted me up and placed me at the very top of the wall. I must, therefore, speak publicly in order to thank the Lord for such wonderful gifts.
May God free me from every wickedness,
May God free me from every entrapment,
May God free me from every gully,
From every tortuous road, from every slough.
The opening word of Benedict’s Prologue, Listen, not only establishes the urgency of listening but of listening in the right way—that is, “with the ear of the heart.” It was through that act of listening in the depths of his heart that the prodigal was able to return to the inviting God, the father offering his son unconditional love and acceptance. By straying from his heart, his true self, he had gone astray. His return to his heart resulted in his return to God.