To anticipate the Enemy’s strategy, we must consider His aims. The Enemy wants to bring the man to a state of mind in which he could design the best cathedral in the world, and know it to be the best, and rejoice in the fact, without being any more (or less) or otherwise glad at having done it than he would be if it had been done by another.
Think of the various ways, dear friends, by which the master points us toward the coming resurrection, by which the Lord Jesus Christ was made the firstfruit when he raised him from the dead. Let us observe, dear friends, how something like resurrection is so often anticipated in the course of nature. Day and night, for example: the night falls asleep, and the day arises; day departs, and night returns.
What in fact is Christ’s kingdom? It is simply those who believe in him, those to whom he said, “You are not of this world, even as I am not of this world.” He willed, nevertheless, that they should be in the world, which is why he prayed to the Father, “I ask you not to take them out of the world but to protect them from the evil one.” So here also he did not say, “My kingdom is not” in this world but “is not of this world.” . . .
To an age like ours, fascinated with alienation and marginalization, Byrd presents an intriguing dilemma. Revered by his contemporaries and honored by his chief employer, Queen Elizabeth, he appears in some lights as the perfect royal musician, writing on order for the newly established Church of England as well as clothing courtiers’ ditties in substantial if often rather sober musical garb.
Kingship, as every medieval churchman knew and as every medieval ruler was informed, was instituted by divine concession: it was exercised Dei gratia. The kingdom, accordingly had the status of a divine trust, in relation to which the ruler functioned not in or by his own right but rather as God’s vice-regent upon earth
The independent spirit of Elizabeth’s personality, which feared losing itself in her privileged status of aristocratic courtship and motherhood, became manifest in her single minded dedication to live the “option for the poor.”
This question of the Benedictine and the Celtic traditions is a fascinating subject to explore, for it would seem at first glance so apparent that here we have two traditions that are extremely unalike. We have the Benedictine tradition, nurtured within the confines of the Roman Empire—
“They that are Christ’s” begin by preparing a cross for themselves in their mind. For from the center of the mind, which is love or the will, they aim their love upward to God, to love Him above all things. From that very same center they aim love at their friends, to love them in God “as themselves.”
To these two excellent gifts of prayer and abstinence she joined the gift of mercy. For what could be more compassionate than her heart? Who could be more gentle than she towards the necessitous? Not only would she have given to the poor all that she possessed; but if she could have done so she would have given her very self away.
Friday 5. The rain is over; the clouds scattered and gone; and nature smileth again. I only mourn the oppression I cannot remove. . . .