Why did Jesus 'Take the Form of a Slave'?

St. Josephine Bakhita

     Did you know that we are all slaves - and have you noticed how often the topic of slavery comes up in Scripture and in Salvation History?  We can see it in some recent posts here:  last Wednesday we discussed how St. Patrick was kidnapped and sold into slavery, and then returned after his escape to convert his former slave masters.  Two days later we celebrated the Solemnity of St. Joseph, whose forerunner Joseph son of Jacob had also been sold into slavery.  An impressive number saints have been slaves at some point, as recently as St. Josephine Bakhita, who died in 1947.

 Why is slavery so prevalent?  We Catholics know that in the Bible and in the history of God's interaction with humanity there are different levels of meaning.  In another recent post, for instance, we talked about leprosy in scripture as a metaphor for sin; in much the same way slavery represents our attachment to sin . . .

[click HERE to continue reading this post on 

Spes in Domino]

Do You Consider Yourself a Leper? (From Spes in Domino)

      A few years ago, during a previous Lent, I attended a mass in which the Gospel reading came from Matthew 8, which included the following passage:

 . . . and behold, a leper came to him and knelt before him, saying, "Lord, if you will, you can make me clean."  And he stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, "I will; be clean." And immediately his leprosy was cleansed. (Matthew 8:2-3)

     Father began his homily with the question, "Do you consider yourself a leper?"  Well, I had never thought of myself as a leper . . . 

[click HERE to continue reading this post on Spes in Domino]

Confession, Jonah, and the Prodigal's Sons (from Spes in Domino)

     There are many things for which I should be more grateful, and one of the greatest is the forgiveness of sins in the Sacrament of Confession. One of the graces of the season of Lent is that there are many things to remind my stubborn, sluggish brain of that fact.  For instance, this past Sunday father dedicated a large part of his homily to explaining how a detailed examination of conscience can help us make a good confession, and illustrated with a model based on the Ten Commandments .  He also very helpfully directed our attention to the stained glass window closest to the confessional, which happened to be a depiction of the Prodigal Son. That reminded me of a Lenten penance I received at confession a few years ago, an assignment which got me thinking . . . and led to the meditation on the Prodigal Son, the Book of Jonah, and the Power of Forgiveness that I have reposted below.

     I was given an interesting penance when I went to confession recently. I was to meditate on the Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32).  My confessor emphasized that the father in Jesus' story, who extravagantly welcomes back his wastrel son . . .

[click HERE to continue reading this post on Spes in Domino]

"The Return of the Prodigal Son" (1782) by Jean Germain Drouais (angry son at right)

From Spes in Domino: Pergolesi's Miserere - Music for Lent

  This is a very different musical interpretation of Psalm 51 than we saw last week in Allegri's Miserere.  In Allegri's composition the intensity of the soaring, unaccompanied voices leads us to contemplation of the Divine Mercy of God in Heaven. Here the urgent, dramatic orchestration pulls us down into King David's turbulent emotions as he comes to acknowledge his sinfulness and his need for God's mercy.  This clip is only the first part of a much longer composition, and contains only the first line of the Psalm: Miserere mei, Domine, secundam misericordiam tuam, "Have mercy on me, Lord, according to your compassion". As the focus of the Psalm moves from David's sinfulness to the abundance of God's mercy, the music in the later parts of the piece changes with it . . .

[click HERE for the rest of the post and the video of Pergolesi's Miserere on Spes in Domino]

"The Prophet Nathan Rebukes King David" by Eugène Siberdt

Allegri’s Miserere- Music for the First Monday in Lent

"The Repentance of King David,"
C. 1650, artist unknown

 One of the best known of Lenten musical compositions today is the setting Gregorio Allegri composed some time in the 1630’s for Psalm 51.  The piece is known as the Miserere (i.e., “Have mercy”) from it’s first word in Latin.  Allegri composed it specifically for use in Tenebrae services in the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel.

     And in the Sistine Chapel it stayed, for almost a century and a half.  The Popes did not allow transcriptions of Allegri’s mezmerizing composition to be made, and only three authorized versions were given away to private individuals (to Holy Roman Emperor Leopold I, to King John V of Portugal, and to the musically gifted Franciscan Giovanni Battista Martini).  

     That all changed when a 14 year old visitor to Rome named Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart heard the Miserere sung in the Sistine Chapel.  He listened closely and, when he went back to his room, he wrote down the music from memory . . .  [to hear Allegri's Miserere and read the rest of the post click HERE]

What's Up With Chocolate and Lent?

       The last thing we need is conflicting messages, don't you think? Especially when it concerns the State of our Souls.  Imagine my dismay, then, when I came across two different signs at two different churches telling me to do opposite things to observe Lent. What's up with that?

    I first published this Throwback Thursday Blast From The Past on March 6th 2016.

To Give It Up Or Not . . .  

 

   What’s up with the chocolate?  As I was driving home from work last week I passed a church with a signboard out front that said, “Lent: Give Up Chocolate, Not Hope.”  I kept thinking about it all the way home, both because I think the folks who put up the sign were trying to make an important point, but also because they were (inadvertently, no doubt) undercutting their message at the same time (I'll explain how below).  I had decided to write about it, and took a picture of the sign on my way to an event at another church (neither was my parish church).  When I got to the second church, as I was running through my thoughts on the first sign, I saw another sign, or really a notice on a bulletin board in the hallway: “Don’t Give Up Chocolate For Lent.”  Hmmm . . . one tells me to give up chocolate, the other says the opposite. Well now, should I or shouldn't I? What's a Good Christian to do . . . ? [Click HERE to read the whole post on Spes in Domino]

Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day – Fruit of the Same Tree

The pink Valentine clutter has not yet completely abandoned the shelves of retailers, as we’re just three days past the feast of the most well-known of unknown saints, and yet today we put on ashes and the purple of Lent. Whether by chance or design St. Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday often find themselves in close proximity. A few years ago when the two apparently contrary feasts occupied the same day, I saw a post on a certain social media network (which I refuse to name, as I have since renounced it and all its works and empty promises) that caused me to stop and think about the connection between the two . . . [Click HERE to read the entire post at Spes in Domino]

Mozart Requiem Introitus & Kyrie

From the manuscript of the Requiem, in Mozart's hand

     While it's not strictly speaking a Lenten composition, Mozart's Requiem Mass, which he was still composing at the time of his death, powerfully lends itself to the penitential nature of the liturgical season. 
     For more than two centuries a lively debate has gone on, and continues today, concerning who composed what parts of the Requiem and the somewhat murky circumstances of its commissioning and completion.  Notwithstanding the controversies both scholarly and fanciful (as in, for instance, the play and film Amadeus), Mozart's final work is a magnificent and moving composition.  
    The clip below, from a performance in St. Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna conducted by Sir Georg Solti, includes the Introit and the Kyrie.  When Mozart died he had finished the Introit; we have the composer's own notation for the vocal parts and portions of the orchestration for the Kyrie, which seems to have been put into its finished form by the composer's student Franz Joseph Süssmayr.

Music For Lent: Miserere Mei by Antonio Lotti

"King David Does Repentance" by Albrecht Durer

   As we begin the penitential Season of Lent, it seems a good time to look at some the numerous musical settings for Psalm 51, which is traditionally held to have been written by King David as an expression of repentance after he engineered the death of Uriah the Hittite in order to steal his wife, Bathsheba.  
     The most famous musical treatment of this psalm was composed by Gregorio Allegri in the 1630's, various performances of which I have posted over the last few years (most recently here). Last year I also posted lesser-known (but still powerfully beautiful and moving) renditions by Pergolesi and Josquin des Prez.  I'm continuing that tradition this Lent by posting Antonio Lotti's Miserere below, and Jan Dismas Zelenka's setting of the 51st Psalm on the blog Nisi Dominus.
     Lotti Lived from 1667-1740.  He spent his entire musical career (except for a brief period in Dresden from 1717-1719) at St. Mark's Basilica in Venice as a singer, organist and, eventually, maestro di cappella. may not be well-known today (at least to those of us who, like me, are not experts), but he was an important and influential composer and teacher in his day. His Wikipedia entry tells us that

     Lotti is thought to have influenced Johann Sebastian Bach, George Frideric Handel, and Johann Dismas Zelenka, all of whom had copies of Lotti's mass, the Missa Sapientiae.

     Lotti was a notable teacher, with Domenico Alberti, Benedetto Marcello, Giovanni Battista Pescetti, Baldassare Galuppi, Giuseppe Saratelli and Johann Dismas Zelenka among his pupils.

In the clip below the piece is performed by the UCLA Early Music Ensemble, conducted by Alexandra Grabarchuk.

Laudamus Te - Antonio Vivaldi

What a joyful song of praise! "Laudamus Te" from a Gloria by the incomparable Antonio Vivaldi.  Next Sunday is the last before we put on the more somber garb of the Season of Lent, so let's enjoy it while we can!

St. Thomas Aquinas & Pange Lingua

     When we think of St. Thomas Aquinas, we most likely remember him as the greatest of Catholic theologians, and perhaps also as one of the most important philosophers in human history.  We appreciate his ability to apply reason in a rigorous examination of every facet of Church teaching, and we find his arguments still apply in our controversies today (as I do here).
     In spite of his very "left brain" reputation for rationality, St. Thomas was also an accomplished composer of hymns, some of which we still use almost 800 years later.  Here, for instance, is Pange Lingua, which we sing during the Transfer of the Holy Sacrament after the Mass of the Lord's Supper on Holy Thursday; its last two verses are often sung as the Tantum Ergo during Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.  It is highly appropriate to both occasions because St. Thomas the hymn-writer was still St. Thomas the theologian: he uses the poetic language of the hymn to teach about the theology of the Incarnation and the Eucharist (see text below).  And he does it beautifully.

1. Pange lingua gloriosi

Corporis mysterium,

Sanguinisque pretiosi,

Quem in mundi pretium

Fructus ventris generosi,

Rex effudit gentium. 

2. Nobis datus, nobis natus

Ex intacta Virgine

Et in mundo conversatus,

Sparso verbi semine,

Sui moras incolatus

Miro clausit ordine. 

3. In supremae nocte coenae

Recumbens cum fratribus,

Observata lege plene

Cibis in legalibus,

Cibum turbae duodenae

 Se dat suis manibus 

4. Verbum caro, panem verum

Verbo carnem efficit:

Fitque sanguis Christi merum,

Et si sensus deficit,

Ad firmandum cor sincerum

Sola fides sufficit. 

5. Tantum ergo Sacramentum

Veneremur cernui:

Et antiquum documentum

 Novo cedat ritui:

Praestet fides supplementum

 Sensuum defectui. 

6. Genitori, Genitoque

Laus et iubilatio,

Salus, honor, virtus quoque

Sit et benedictio:

Procedenti ab utroque

Compar sit laudatio. Amen.  

Of the glorious Body telling, 

O my tongue, its mysteries sing, 

And the Blood, all price excelling, 

Which the world's eternal King, 

In a noble womb once dwelling 

Shed for the world's ransoming.  

Given for us, descending, 

Of a Virgin to proceed, 

Man with man in converse blending, 

Scattered he the Gospel seed, 

Till his sojourn drew to ending, 

Which he closed in wondrous deed.  

At the last great Supper lying 

Circled by his brethren's band, 

Meekly with the law complying, 

First he finished its command 

Then, immortal Food supplying, 

Gave himself with his own hand.  

Word made Flesh, by word he maketh

Very bread his Flesh to be; 

Man in wine Christ's Blood partaketh: 

And if senses fail to see, 

Faith alone the true heart waketh 

To behold the mystery.  

Therefore we, before him bending, 

This great Sacrament revere; 

Types and shadows have their ending,

For the newer rite is here; 

Faith, our outward sense befriending, 

Makes the inward vision clear.  

Glory let us give, and blessing 

To the Father and the Son; 

Honour, might, and praise addressing, 

While eternal ages run; 

ver too his love confessing, 

Who, from both, with both is one.  Amen

(from http://www.chantcd.com/lyrics/glorious_body.htm)

Asleep in the Garden

This is my Holy Thursday post from last year (I hesitate to use the term "throwback" on this particular Thursday).  While I seem to be suffering from a similar state of wearyness, I nevertheless managed to come up with a new post for the Triduum ( on Nisi Dominus: "Christ Came to Serve"). With that out of the way, now it's time to step back a little and let the Lord take charge . . . 

Asleep in the Garden

And they went to a place which was called Gethsem'ane; and he said to his disciples, "Sit here, while I pray." And he took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be greatly distressed and troubled.  And he said to them, "My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch." And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him.  And he said, "Abba, Father, all things are possible to thee; remove this cup from me; yet not what I will, but what thou wilt." And he came and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, "Simon, are you asleep? Could you not watch one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."  And again he went away and prayed, saying the same words.  And again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy; and they did not know what to answer him. And he came the third time, and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? It is enough; the hour has come; the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.  Rise, let us be going; see, my betrayer is at hand." And immediately, while he was still speaking, Judas came, one of the twelve, and with him a  crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and the scribes and the elders.      (Mark 14:32-43)

     It’s been a tough week.  Like Martha, I’ve been worried about many things (Luke 10:41), and find myself physically and mentally exhausted (one result of which is that I have posted very little on this blog this week). I had wanted to post something for the upcoming Triduum . . .but . . . nothing.  Nothing insightful, interesting, or even clever came to mind.  As I fruitlessly racked my brain (now there’s an interesting image!) up came an image of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, in agony (according to Steve Ray, to whom I was listening on my car radio on the way in to work,  many scholars believe that Christ’s greatest suffering was in the garden, where he felt the full weight of humanity’s sins).  Peter, John, and James doze off (three times!), too wrapped up in themselves to attend to the Master who has asked for their support in his time of supreme trial.  That’s me, I realized: at the holiest time of the year, as I should be focusing on The Lord suffering for my sins, all I can think of is myself.  It’s sort of sad, isn’t it? 

     That being the case, I’ve resolved to turn my focus to Jesus Christ as I take part in the observance of the Easter Triduum.  I’ll set aside my concerns and worries (please, Lord, give me the Grace!); if the Holy Spirit gives me something worthwhile to say I’ll say it, if not I’ll content myself to keep My Lord company from the Cenacle to Calvary, and wait in Joyful Hope for his return on Easter Sunday.

Passion Sunday: Pick Up Your Cross . . .

Passion Sunday     

Today’s liturgical observance is officially called “Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord.”  The name reflects the dual nature of the liturgy, as the Mass is preceded by a procession with palms in commemoration of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, but the readings include one of the Gospel accounts (this year St. Mark’s) of his arrest, trial, and crucifixion.

     My “inner Pharisee” is sometimes tempted to think that this pre-figuring of Good Friday before the fact  is much like the practice of moving Ascension Thursday to a Sunday in order to catch people who can’t be bothered to show up in church on a week day, but that is not the case.  Even if there weren't many people who have jobs that won’t allow participation in the Good Friday liturgy, or are kept away for other reasonable causes, there are good reasons to turn to the events of the Passion before the Triduum, and the practice goes back further than one might think.  Prior to Vatican II the second Sunday before Easter was known as Passion Sunday (as is still the case, of course, in the Extraordinary Rite), which introduced the Passiontide, a two week period of more intense focus on the suffering and death of Jesus; in combining it with Palm Sunday, we have actually moved Passion Sunday a week closer to Good Friday. Christ’s self-sacrifice at Calvary is one of the most important events in the Liturgical Year, and really one of the most significant events in all of human history, so it is fitting that we don't just pass over it in a day or two. Placing the Passion at the center of this Sunday’s liturgy gives the direction for the rest of Holy Week, so that we’re already in the proper frame of mind before we reach the culminating events of Holy Thursday and Good Friday

     Combining Passion Sunday with Palm Sunday also gives us an interesting and, I think, fruitful perspective on the events leading up to the Crucifixion.  Very many, at least, of the people singing “hosanna” as Jesus rode into Jerusalem were not cheering for the real Jesus but for a fantasy Messiah who, they thought, would be a very worldly savior.   Many of these same people, most likely, were calling for his crucifixion a few days later.  Moving from the Palms to the Passion in the same liturgy helps drive home that reality for us, and our participation in both ends of the process reminds us (or should, at least) of our own complicity in the Crucifixion of Jesus (for more on this point, see my post “Palm Sunday: Who Are Those Cheering People?”).

     Too often we try to take shortcuts to rewards of various kinds without doing the hard work that those rewards require; today we are reminded that if we want Christ as our King, we need to pick up our cross and follow him.

Week Links

     Shortly after I started blogging, I was invited by RAnn of This That and the Other Thing to participate in Sunday Snippets, a weekly Catholic link-swapping sort of thing.  RAnn has recently hung up her snippetting hat after long and faithful service (thanks again, RAnn), but old habits die hard, and I’ve grown accustomed to compiling a Sunday Summary of the week’s bloggery.  So, please feel free take a scroll through the links below: who knows? You might find something worth reading.

Tuesday – “Sins of the Fathers . . . And of Kings” The Christian burial (530 years late) of England’s Richard III got me thinking: how different would the past half-millenium have been if a couple of his fellow monarchs were less prone to sins of the flesh?  

Wednesday – “Let It Be Done To Me According ToThy Word”  The Annunciation Big things come from small beginnings.

Thursday – “History, Culture, and Narcissism” According to Albert Einstein, “God does not place dice with the World”. Nor does he with History: the Greco-Roman roots of Christendom are no accident. 

Friday – “Abortion Myth #7” It’s easy to throw words around, but whose choice and whose body are questions the pro-abortion people would rather we didn’t ask. 

Saturday -  My penultimate music clip for Lent is “So Now My Jesus Is Taken Prisoner” from Bach’s  St. Matthew Passion, 

and -  My final music clip for Lent is “O Sacred Head Sore Wounded” from Bach’s St. Matthew Passion  

"So Now My Jesus Has Been Taken Prisoner" - Bach, St. Matthew Passion

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, and Passion Sunday, the beginning of Holy week.  Now we start to focus more directly on the suffering and death of Jesus, as in this clip from Bach's St. Matthew Passion: "So now my Jesus has been taken prisoner . . . "

Dirck van Baburen, The Arrest of Christ

(My final music clip for Lent is “O Sacred Head SoreWounded” from Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, on the Nisi Dominus blog) 

Opening of Bach's St. Matthew Passion

El Greco's Christ Carrying the Cross

As the Season of Lent nears its end, we start focusing more closely on Jerusalem, and the Passion of Jesus Christ. One of the great artistic reflections on the suffering and death of Our Lord is J.S. Bach's St. Matthew Passion.  Here is the beginning of Bach's musical meditation on Matthew's Gospel account . . .

Mozart's Requiem Mass in D Minor I - Introitus and Kyrie

Last week, in keeping with the penitential orientation of Lent, we heard a little bit of Mozart's Requiem Mass.  This week we're going back to the opening of the Mass, to the Introitus and the Kyrie.  

Mozart's Requiem: Confutatis and Lacrimosa

Detail from Michelangelo's Last Judgment:
"pie Jesu Domine,dona eis requiem"

     While it's not strictly speaking a Lenten composition, Mozart's Requiem Mass, which he was still completing at the time of his death, lends itself to the penitential nature of the liturgical season.  This excerpt ("Confutatis" and "Lacrimosa"), part of the setting for Thomas of Celano's great hymn "Dies Irae", looks ahead to the Final Judgment.  Here, Mozart's music powerfully complements the words of the hymn: we can almost feel what it's like to be unworthy sinners approaching the Throne of God to throw ourselves upon his Mercy (which, indeed, we are).






Confutatis maledictis,
flammis acribus addictis,
voca me cum benedictis.
Oro supplex et acclinis,
cor contritum quasi cinis,
gere curam mei finis.

     When the wicked are confounded,
     and consigned to bitter flames,
     call me among the blessed.
     I pray humble and downcast,
     my heart worn down like ash,
     take up the care of my end.

Lacrimosa dies illa,
qua resurget ex favilla
judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus,
pie Jesu Domine,
dona eis requiem. Amen.

     That day,full of tears,
     when from the ashes shall arise,
     Man, the accused to be judged.
     Have mercy on him, therefore, O God,
     faithful Lord Jesus,
     grant them eternal rest. Amen

Josquin Des Prez: Miserere mei Deus

Nathan confronts David with his sin: the occasion for Psalm 51

    For centuries Catholic artists have been creating beautiful things to honor God.  We have accumulated a treasury of works of unequaled loveliness – including a veritable horde of the most beautiful music ever conceived.  Sadly, most of it is rarely heard.  I’m not going to take this opportunity to complain about the contemporary music that is used in the liturgy today, although I certainly could point out that most of it is banal, trivial, and, sometimes even heretical.  No, I’m simply going to point out that in its place we could be praising our Lord with something truly magnificent.

     Case in point: Josquin Des Prez’s setting for Psalm 51.  Allegri’s “Miserere” (which I’ve posted more than once) is the most famous musical treatment of this Psalm; yesterday I posted another, Pergolesi’s version.  Des Prez makes a contribution worthy of their company:

Pergolesi: Miserere mei Deus

"You are that man!" David and Nathan by Matthias Scheits

     Psalm 51 (called the “Miserere” from its first word in Latin) is one of the greatest of penitential prayers.  According to the Bible itself, it is “A Psalm of David, when the Nathan the prophet came to him, after he had gone in to Bathsheba.”  Nathan came to King David, of course, to confront him after the king had committed adultery with Bathsheba,  and had arranged to have her husband Uriah killed so he could marry her himself. The Psalm is an expression of David’s sorrow after he has realized the magnitude of his sin.

     This psalm is closely associated with Lent because of its penitential character.  It has also been set to music many times, the most famous being the setting composed by Gregorio Allegri for use in the Sistine Chapel (I have posted three different recordings of Allegri’s “Miserere” since I started this blog fourteen months ago). 

     It seemed appropriate, during this first week of Lent, to investigate some of the lesser-known but still beautiful settings for this psalm.  The version, below was composed by Pergolesi (Giovanni Battista Draghi), an immensely talented composer who, sadly, lived for only 26 short years (1710-1736):  

Sunday Snippets - A Catholic Carnival (1st Sunday of Lent 2015)

     Welcome once again to "Sunday Snippets – A Catholic Carnival" (although the carnival atmosphere is somewhat muted, this being the Season of Lent).  Sunday Snippets is a weekly gathering of Catholic bloggers who share their posts for the week (that’s the snippets part) every Sunday (and that’s the . . . um . . . never mind).  The full gathering is here, at This That and the Other Thing, home of Sunday Snippets mastermind RAnn.  

Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus carry the Cross

     Before I get to the past week at Principium et Finis, I’d like to touch briefly on the topic of Lent. One of the distinctive features of the Catholic Vision is that we see the patterns of the next world reflected in this one.  The Season of Lent provides a good example.  We understand that we are prone to sin, that we must undergo a period of preparation before we can experience the joy of Easter.  And so through various penitential practices, including (but not limited to) the sacrament of Confession and the “giving up” of various things, we seek both to acknowledge and repent of our sins, and also to turn away from attachment to worldly things so that we can turn instead to God.

     The logic of these Lenten practices also applies in the next life, in Purgatory.  The word Purgatorium means a place of cleansing. The Catholic belief is that Purgatory is both a completion of temporal punishment (penance), and as the Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us, "purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven," for  those "who die in God's grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified" (CCC 1030). That purification is sometimes described in terms of removal of our remaining attachment to sin (sound familiar?) .  

     While it's best to do whatever we can to avoid or lessen our time in Purgatory, it's a good bet that very many of us will experience it.  That’s something to keep in mind as we go through Lent here in this world: if it’s appropriate to purify ourselves in preparation for the Feast of Easter, how much more so for the Eternal Supper of Lamb in the New Jerusalem?

And now, on to the links for the past week:

Sunday – "Do You Consider Yourself A Leper?" As it happens, we all have reason to say, “If you will it, you can make me clean”  

Monday – “Benigno Zerafa – Dixit Dominus, Mov. II” It’s a shame to let anything beautiful go to waste, especially something created to glorify God.  So, here’s a little musical treasure brought down from the attic . . . 

Tuesday –“ J.Puccini the Elder: Dixit Dominus” When I was researching Zerafa’s “Dominus Dixit” I came across another version, under a familiar name . . . but not quite as familiar as it looked.  Anyway, here’s another treasure 

Wednesday – “Ash Wednesday: A Symbol Of Repentance, A Sign Of Hope”   I was sitting in the DMV Tuesday morning, waiting for my son to finish his driver’s test, and musing about how curious it is that people who don’t normally attend Sunday Mass show up on Ash Wednesday and, well . . . the result was this post 

Thursday – “Richard Dawkins Is Full Of Surprises ” Who knew that the celebrated atheist apologist entertained fond memories of the Anglican Church? But then, the whole atheist enterprise is not as reason-driven as they’d like us to think . . . 

Friday – “What Adam ate Brought Death, What Christ Usto Eat Brings Eternal Life”
  Thoughts on Lent, Sin, and Salvation inspired by an Ash Wednesday homily