BY JEDIDIAH PASCHALL
When you’re going to hit something on the nose, hit it hard and fast and often. — Aristotle… or Confucius (whatever, I found the quote on the internet) … Only the flicker Over the strained time-ridden faces Distracted from distraction by distraction Filled with fancies empty of meaning… — TS Eliot from Burnt Norton, […]
Read MoreFor those of us, myself included who retain ties to evangelicalism in some way (I would say I am evangelicalish of a small c- catholic variety), have to overcome some serious obstacles to embrace an orthodox understanding of Christian Universalism. Micheli, a Methodist minister, and host of the excellent podcast Crackers and Grape Juice, where […]
Read MoreOriginally posted on Eclectic Orthodoxy:
It is a fantastic fantasy, I know. Family and friends will confirm that I often entertain fantastic, even ridiculous, fantasies. Yet nontheless I dream: if every Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant pastor were to read the Unspoken Sermons of George MacDonald, the Church of Jesus Christ would experience an extraordinary revival in…
Come now child, here now child, You with the clear eyes We will leave this valley floor and Ascend San Jacinto’s snowy heights Rising rose in twilight’s blushing glance. They say this peak was named for a boy Who defied an emperor and dying, deified – Joined the empyrean company clothed In the same […]
Read MoreThe following is an excerpt from “The Offering of Names”, first entry in Hart’s recently released collection of essays, The Hidden and the Manafest – Essays in Theology and Metaphysics: Every metaphysics, simply said, that does not grasp (or at least adumbrate) the analogy of being is a tower of Babel, attempting to mount up […]
Read MoreThere are few poems in the English language as bone-chilling as WB Yeats’ “The Second Coming”. This year marks the century anniversary of a poem that captivated and terrified the modern world. One needn’t be familiar with Yeats’ Irish nationalism, Theosophical inclinations, or his occultism to gain entrance into his imagistic rendering of the collapse […]
Read MoreI first read these words in the basement level of a Chicago bookstore close to twenty years ago and I knew Lisel Mueller was a woman to be trusted: In Passing How swiftly the strained honey of afternoon light flows into darkness and the closed bud shrugs off its special mystery in order to […]
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