Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Half-measures

Despite a radical prostatectomy, any claim to survivor falls short.

One surgical procedure, no chemo nor radiation, cancer done.

Attendence at Oxford for a week makes not a scholar. Five years of Reserves duty forges no warrior. A youth group leader isn't a dad.

Von Stauffenberg activates Valkyrie only after Germany is losing.

At Terezin, Goebbel's films depict four concert orchestras. Beauty for ashes survives, regardless, in 50+ pieces collected by the late Joza Karas including the opera Brundibar which portrays a sibling's attempt to buy milk in the face of an evil organ grinder.

A music review in the NY Times relates "Benjamin Britten composed the hauntingly powerful song cycle Holy Sonnets of John Donne in 1945 after visting German concentration camps and performing for Holocaust survivors with Yedhudi Menuhin."

Deep cries out to deep.

Not always.

C.S. Lewis reveals the life-changing experience of reading Beatrix Potter. The Joy animating the Surprise derives from pagan-medieval myth. The Spock-sort joy Tolkien knew after Rings morphed from the invention of a language.

Fundys, here, excel in ways progressives fall short, for to acknowledge the dangers of occult, grants fantastic power to Spiritual Warfare.

The sermon delivered this third Sunday of Advent past, aboard the Polar Express, investigates the precise moment Jesus realized He was Son of God.

Behaviorialists might argue it could not have been before age four since a tot's cognitive capacity does not yet allow for thoughts beyond self.

Terrible two's: God?

Joseph howling, "Look what Your Son did!"

Came the day He walked upon the waters of the ritual bath.

'Whoa'

Mary and Joseph humanize, instill, per Aunt May, Ma, Pa Kent.

Realizes 'with great powers comes great responsibility.'

Considers a uniform.

On the fifth floor of the hospital, an old nurse wears a cap out of date amongst cool green scrubs. A colleague said last week the beloved envelope making machine reminds her of the Chocolate Factory.

I wheel survivors out, each act, a full measure.

No comments: