I was about fifteen years old when I first read this poem by Catullus. I was already full of thoughts of revolt and the overthrow of the established order. But thoughts of the sweet Minoan girl and her milky white bosom came as something of a distraction.
And, indeed, I came to realize that it is better to love one woman well than to love the whole world.
For what is a king or a conqueror, a pope or a revolutionary, a Saint Francis or a Napoleon, or a Theseus for that matter, compared to the poorest Peasant who is a good man to one good woman?
'The Minoan girl, at the water's edge, stares out far, far to see him,
with her suffering eyes. Like a stone statue, like a lover of Bacchus, she stares
so sadly! swept up in great billows of hurt;
blond hair blowing wildly under the delicate scarf ,
bosom scarcely covered by her thin dress.
Milk white breasts unbound, her inner garments fall away
Uncovering her tender body
The salty tide caresses her feet,
But she gives no thought to her dishevelled hair
or her dress that swirls in the wind. Theseus!
with all her heart, her mind, her spirit, this girl needs you!
Oh, poor girl, what endless grief harsh Venus has cast upon you!
She sowed in your heart nettles of hurt
ever since that sorry day when fierce Theseus
left for the curved shore of Piraeus harbour.'
Sunday, 31 March 2013
Saturday, 30 March 2013
Easter Sunday with John Ball
This day is the most amazing day of the year. This is what it is all about - the Resurrection. Against all the odds, at times, seemingly against all the evidence, Jesus is raised from the dead, life conquers death, love conquers hate, hope conquers despair, and you and I and the whole of creation have been reconciled to God. The Resurrection, the pivotal event in history, the pivotal event in eternity, the one event all roads lead to, happened on this day nearly 2000 years ago.
'And in one day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the grave, when it was yet dark, and she saw the stone moved away from the grave.
Therefore she ran, and came to Simon Peter, and to another disciple, whom Jesus loved, and saith to them, They have taken the Lord from the grave, and we know not, where they have laid him.
Therefore Peter went out, and that other disciple, and they came to the grave.
And they twain ran together, and that other disciple ran before Peter, and came first to the grave. And when he stooped, he saw the sheets lying, nevertheless he entered not.
Therefore Simon Peter came following him, and he entered into the grave, and he saw the sheets laid, and the sudarium that was on his head, not laid with the sheets, but by itself wrapped into a place.
Therefore then that disciple that came first to the grave, entered, and saw, and believed.'
'And in one day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the grave, when it was yet dark, and she saw the stone moved away from the grave.
Therefore she ran, and came to Simon Peter, and to another disciple, whom Jesus loved, and saith to them, They have taken the Lord from the grave, and we know not, where they have laid him.
Therefore Peter went out, and that other disciple, and they came to the grave.
And they twain ran together, and that other disciple ran before Peter, and came first to the grave. And when he stooped, he saw the sheets lying, nevertheless he entered not.
Therefore Simon Peter came following him, and he entered into the grave, and he saw the sheets laid, and the sudarium that was on his head, not laid with the sheets, but by itself wrapped into a place.
Therefore then that disciple that came first to the grave, entered, and saw, and believed.'
Friday, 29 March 2013
The Coldest Hour
The coldest hour is just before the dawn. On this day, long ago, Jesus lay in the tomb . In the words of the Apostles' Creed, He descended into Hell. Jesus, the Lamb of God, took upon himself the death, the hate, the despair of you and I.
This hymn by Isaac Watt is called When I Survey the Wondrous Cross. It was first published in 1707.
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.
See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
This hymn by Isaac Watt is called When I Survey the Wondrous Cross. It was first published in 1707.
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.
See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
Thursday, 28 March 2013
Good Friday On The Plantation
This is a short passage from the novel, Menino de Engenho, Plantation Boy, by Jose Lins Do Rego. It is set on a sugar plantation in the North East of Brazil around a hundred years ago, twenty or so years after the abolition of slavery.
'On Good Friday we only had one meal on the plantation. Fresh fish came from the city and relatives from other plantations came to visit; we ate much more than on other days. The maids in the kitchen would speak of Jesus's suffering from the heart and said that if the priest forgot to say the Hallelujah at the Saturday mass then the world would end once and for all.
The tenants came to the main house in large groups to ask for food, as was the tradition. They were given dried cod and flour. With their wives and their children they would leave, weighed down by sacks of food, as if they were walking one of the Stations of the Cross.
The whole day was sad. The train did not run on the railway line.
Sometimes an old lady called Totinha would visit the plantation at this time of year. She knew the story of the Life, Passion and Death of Jesus Christ in verse, and with her sad tale she would reduce us to tears.
Old Sinhazinha would say that Holy Week at Itambe was how it should be done. Padre Julio would kiss the feet of the poor and lead the procession through the streets. In church he would give a heart rending sermon while the congregation cried.
The maids stayed in the kitchen talking in whispers. No one bathed in the river, not wanting to appear naked on that day. The animals were not worked and no one insulted anyone or called each other names.
They made me release a canary that I had caught.
In our conversations we mulled over and corrected the Will of God. We decided that Jesus Christ should have liquidated all the Jews and taken over Jerusalem. The greatness of his sacrifice was lost on us. We wanted a material victory over his executioners.
For Holy Week the plantation's little chapel of the saints was open. The sanctuary was bedecked in black and the pictures of the saints were turned to face the wall. The saints were ashamed to look at the world.'
'On Good Friday we only had one meal on the plantation. Fresh fish came from the city and relatives from other plantations came to visit; we ate much more than on other days. The maids in the kitchen would speak of Jesus's suffering from the heart and said that if the priest forgot to say the Hallelujah at the Saturday mass then the world would end once and for all.
The tenants came to the main house in large groups to ask for food, as was the tradition. They were given dried cod and flour. With their wives and their children they would leave, weighed down by sacks of food, as if they were walking one of the Stations of the Cross.
The whole day was sad. The train did not run on the railway line.
Sometimes an old lady called Totinha would visit the plantation at this time of year. She knew the story of the Life, Passion and Death of Jesus Christ in verse, and with her sad tale she would reduce us to tears.
Old Sinhazinha would say that Holy Week at Itambe was how it should be done. Padre Julio would kiss the feet of the poor and lead the procession through the streets. In church he would give a heart rending sermon while the congregation cried.
The maids stayed in the kitchen talking in whispers. No one bathed in the river, not wanting to appear naked on that day. The animals were not worked and no one insulted anyone or called each other names.
They made me release a canary that I had caught.
In our conversations we mulled over and corrected the Will of God. We decided that Jesus Christ should have liquidated all the Jews and taken over Jerusalem. The greatness of his sacrifice was lost on us. We wanted a material victory over his executioners.
For Holy Week the plantation's little chapel of the saints was open. The sanctuary was bedecked in black and the pictures of the saints were turned to face the wall. The saints were ashamed to look at the world.'
Wednesday, 27 March 2013
First Things
Here we have an excerpt from 'Men and Matriarchy' by Mary Malone:
When men forgot to give, they first of all expropriated the power of women. By rendering Woman powerless they turned her into a thing. Woman was the first ‘thing’ to be objectified.
Woman was the first human resource.
Woman was the first commodity.
In the ancient matriarchal world there was no such thing as prostitution, there was no such thing as rape.
These concepts are unknown in ‘primitive’ societies.
Yet in a patriarchal society prostitution and rape go together like a horse and carriage.
Violence is taboo in a matriarchal society, but violence is the essence of Patriarchy.
In a society with no possessions and no expropriated power there is no call for violence.
Only in patriarchal society does crime raise its head; because patriarchal society is crime itself.
Women are objectified and enslaved. Service and giving are despised, domination is all.
Women are subjected to men.
The world is turned upside down.
When men forgot to give, they first of all expropriated the power of women. By rendering Woman powerless they turned her into a thing. Woman was the first ‘thing’ to be objectified.
Woman was the first human resource.
Woman was the first commodity.
In the ancient matriarchal world there was no such thing as prostitution, there was no such thing as rape.
These concepts are unknown in ‘primitive’ societies.
Yet in a patriarchal society prostitution and rape go together like a horse and carriage.
Violence is taboo in a matriarchal society, but violence is the essence of Patriarchy.
In a society with no possessions and no expropriated power there is no call for violence.
Only in patriarchal society does crime raise its head; because patriarchal society is crime itself.
Women are objectified and enslaved. Service and giving are despised, domination is all.
Women are subjected to men.
The world is turned upside down.
Tuesday, 26 March 2013
War Is The Health Of The State
From my point of view as a Peasant who at one time lived in the 1300s the above statement seems fairly obvious.
But a lot of you twenty first century people see the state as Big Mother.
I mean, if you set up a tiddlywinks club you guys ask Big Mother for funding, then ask her for approval once you’ve filled in the right forms and followed the right regulations.
Big Mother looks after your health and your safety, she makes sure you don’t drink too much, eat too much, or think too much.
There’s no time for thinking with all this regulated fun and entertainment on offer.
But I still think, just as if I were still living in the fourteenth century. We had lots of time for thinking back then.
I used to think, 'why do I have to work for the lord of the manor?, why must I pay taxes to the king and tithes to the bishop?'
All that extra work to do, and what did I get from it?
Blimey, the roads were even worse then than they are now.
I began to think about how nice it would be if there weren’t any lords and lawyers and bishops and kings, how nice it would be if there was no government at all.
Those Who Know Better Than Us reckon we need them because they sort out justice. They punish the wrongdoer.
But in Saxon times, when we English ruled ourselves, justice was not a matter of punishment but of compensation. The laws of our people saw to that, laws that had been agreed upon centuries ago in Germany, where our ancestors came from.
German, incidentally, is a word that means 'brother’, like in the Catalan word ‘german’, or the Castilian word ‘hermano’.
Before the Norman Yoke, we English were brothers.
They tell us that the thugs they employ, ‘warriors’ they like to call them, are there to protect us from other thugs.
It is a protection racket, that’s what it is.
They fight wars to justify their existence.
They create enemies where there are none.
Instead of talking about love their priests always talk about the ‘Other’.
They say that they are good, and the ‘Other’ is evil.
The nature of the world, they tell us, is conflict and domination, murder and rape.
They want us to live in fear.
For our protection we must all march together behind them.
And if we step out of line……………….then we too become the ‘Other’.
Back in my day the king and his nobles wanted us to believe that we could not live without them, like you guys believe you cannot live without Big Mother.
But a lot of you twenty first century people see the state as Big Mother.
I mean, if you set up a tiddlywinks club you guys ask Big Mother for funding, then ask her for approval once you’ve filled in the right forms and followed the right regulations.
Big Mother looks after your health and your safety, she makes sure you don’t drink too much, eat too much, or think too much.
There’s no time for thinking with all this regulated fun and entertainment on offer.
But I still think, just as if I were still living in the fourteenth century. We had lots of time for thinking back then.
I used to think, 'why do I have to work for the lord of the manor?, why must I pay taxes to the king and tithes to the bishop?'
All that extra work to do, and what did I get from it?
Blimey, the roads were even worse then than they are now.
I began to think about how nice it would be if there weren’t any lords and lawyers and bishops and kings, how nice it would be if there was no government at all.
Those Who Know Better Than Us reckon we need them because they sort out justice. They punish the wrongdoer.
But in Saxon times, when we English ruled ourselves, justice was not a matter of punishment but of compensation. The laws of our people saw to that, laws that had been agreed upon centuries ago in Germany, where our ancestors came from.
German, incidentally, is a word that means 'brother’, like in the Catalan word ‘german’, or the Castilian word ‘hermano’.
Before the Norman Yoke, we English were brothers.
They tell us that the thugs they employ, ‘warriors’ they like to call them, are there to protect us from other thugs.
It is a protection racket, that’s what it is.
They fight wars to justify their existence.
They create enemies where there are none.
Instead of talking about love their priests always talk about the ‘Other’.
They say that they are good, and the ‘Other’ is evil.
The nature of the world, they tell us, is conflict and domination, murder and rape.
They want us to live in fear.
For our protection we must all march together behind them.
And if we step out of line……………….then we too become the ‘Other’.
Back in my day the king and his nobles wanted us to believe that we could not live without them, like you guys believe you cannot live without Big Mother.
Monday, 25 March 2013
Ne'er Shed A Clout Till May Is Out
A few years ago in England the winters were getting warmer and the summers wetter, and the seasons seemed to be melting into one. At that time, the global warming alarmists seemed to have a good point. It seemed possible than the sinful excess of humanity and its inability to recycle its own waste was causing damage to the whole of creation.
However, the last few years have seen a return to proper winters. Snow has become frequent again and temperatures below zero are becoming common once more.
This month we have seen snow and ice.
It has been cold, but by no means exceptionally cold. It has dipped a degree or two below zero, feeling a little colder because of the high winds.
However, the alarmists, having been discredited with their global warming scare, now seek to frighten us with talk of Climate Change.
Climate Change is one of those terms like Emotional Abuse that can mean absolutely anything.
The alarmists talk of Extreme Weather.
Well, I've yet to see any extreme weather round here. I've seen nothing that I didn't see forty years ago.
Indeed, even further back, in the fourteenth century we had huge problems with global cooling. The fourteenth century was a time of famine, war and plague in Northern Europe, and the drop in temperature caused no end of difficulties. It was a century of cooling, and the cooling had nothing to do with humanity.
Forty years ago the Jehovah's Witnesses liked to warn us of impending global catastrophe with every earthquake, hurricane or blizzard.
Now they are being put out of business by the miserabilists who see wickedness everywhere, and the alarmists in the Vichy press.
Climate Change is a joke. Modern day Greens are Jehovah's Witnesses gone mainstream.
Yet those who see wickedness in every act of affirmation are perilously close to wrecking England's energy supplies.
Coal, with its grim proletarian connotations, has been declared anathema. Wind farms which destroy countless birds and bats (for their own ecological good) will soon spread throughout the land, driving us mad with their low level hum, while we huddle together covered by blankets, wearing three pairs of socks, four sweaters, and a couple of coats for good measure.
However, the last few years have seen a return to proper winters. Snow has become frequent again and temperatures below zero are becoming common once more.
This month we have seen snow and ice.
It has been cold, but by no means exceptionally cold. It has dipped a degree or two below zero, feeling a little colder because of the high winds.
However, the alarmists, having been discredited with their global warming scare, now seek to frighten us with talk of Climate Change.
Climate Change is one of those terms like Emotional Abuse that can mean absolutely anything.
The alarmists talk of Extreme Weather.
Well, I've yet to see any extreme weather round here. I've seen nothing that I didn't see forty years ago.
Indeed, even further back, in the fourteenth century we had huge problems with global cooling. The fourteenth century was a time of famine, war and plague in Northern Europe, and the drop in temperature caused no end of difficulties. It was a century of cooling, and the cooling had nothing to do with humanity.
Forty years ago the Jehovah's Witnesses liked to warn us of impending global catastrophe with every earthquake, hurricane or blizzard.
Now they are being put out of business by the miserabilists who see wickedness everywhere, and the alarmists in the Vichy press.
Climate Change is a joke. Modern day Greens are Jehovah's Witnesses gone mainstream.
Yet those who see wickedness in every act of affirmation are perilously close to wrecking England's energy supplies.
Coal, with its grim proletarian connotations, has been declared anathema. Wind farms which destroy countless birds and bats (for their own ecological good) will soon spread throughout the land, driving us mad with their low level hum, while we huddle together covered by blankets, wearing three pairs of socks, four sweaters, and a couple of coats for good measure.
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