Notes for the Coracle Community: Nouveau Nazism, a Drink for Our Times, a Failed Online Test, Comedy, a Medley, a Proto-Feminist Feast Day
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."- Julian of Norwich
Last week, we looked at things that focus our devotion and appreciated a couple of apostles who have shared a feast day since sometime in the 2nd century. This week we will look at a remarkable literary artist and…well…we’ll see, as I’m on a trout fishing excursion to the not-so-far north. Ah, retirement.
[We also corrected a typing error in Wednesday’s posting that went out to everyone before it was caught. That happens when one writes things at 3 in the morning.]
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As the song says, “Everything old is new again”:
I used to study Nazi Germany with the students in my Ethics class, as it represented the complete inversion of ethics, values, and morals. My students would marvel that a country that produced so much important cultural work in science, philosophy, music, art, etc. would surrender to a moral level so base that it committed one of history’s astounding atrocities. It was fascinating to perform a “biopsy” on this phenomenon with them.
Now, we see how it can happen anywhere.
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My local coffeehouse is tailoring their product to our contemporary reality.
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This didn’t fill me with a lot of confidence:
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Current events have me feeling dour. Here’s 3 minutes of vintage Bob Newhart to lighten the mood [Even though he’s heard it, this one is for you, regular reader Tom]:
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If that doesn’t do it, here are The Surfragettes for 3 minutes. [Even though she’s never heard it, and may never want to again, this is for you, regular reader Michelle]:
They will be in Connecticut in June, opening for Rev. Horton Heat, the father of psychobilly music. I can hardly wait. [Ah, the power of the Fender Stratocaster.]
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On May 8, we celebrate the feast day of Julian of Norwich [1342?-1416], a mystic and theologian of the 14th-15th centuries. She was a solitary, that is a hermit or anchorite [an anchoress if we still note gender in church terminology] who lived apart from the other members of her monastic community in order to pray with greater intensity and, as it turned out, receive the remarkable visions that colored her ministry and theological art1.
Given that she lived in Norwich when it was one of the largest cities in early Britain, and experienced social upheaval, plague, and war, her times were desperate and in need of the solace and strength that was traditionally supplied by the abbeys and monasteries.
In her prayerful and practical work, and while suffering through debilitating migraine headaches, Julian crafted a deep faithfulness that was shared through her teaching and writings, especially in her journal, Revelations of Divine Love [still in print, certainly worth reading, and the #35 bestseller on Amazon.com’s Christian Mysticism list].
While there is little else known of Dame Julian, much can be learned through this volume. She is revered in the Anglican/Episcopal tradition and served as an inspiration to the first and second generations of women ordained to the priesthood.
Triune God, Father and Mother to us all, who showed your servant Julian revelations of your nurturing and sustaining love: Move our hearts, like hers, to seek you above all things, for in giving us yourself you give us all. Amen.
Her lections may be found here.
Until next week, I pray you continue to find the light and lightness in life, as difficult as that sometimes seems to be. If The Wandering Coracle taught you something new, or caused you to think, or allowed you a smile or two, then our mission for this week has been fulfilled.
It’s entirely personal, but I tend to view theology as less of an academic endeavor and more of an artistic expression, as with the composition of sculpture or a symphony. As the artistically or musically inclined readers know, and the rest of us appreciate, such composition requires the totality of its human medium. It is an expression of one’s whole being, physical, mental, and emotional. Whether appreciating the carved sinew of Michelangelo's David, or the lilt and lift of Beethoven's Second, we can feel God’s pleasure when we create.