FROM “The Feast of the Epiphany” by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1876:

“I answer by the assertion that love for truth is, in general, rare among men. They love darkness better than light,–delusion, which flatters them, more than the truth, which points to the exercise of duty, which teaches the spirit of Christian self-denial, which inspires contempt of human consideration, united with that fidelity which assures for us perseverance unto the end.

The gospel for today affirms that Herod, and with him all Jerusalem, was terrified at the message of the three Magi, that the Saviour, the King and Deliverer of the human race, was born. Herod was afraid, and trembled lest he should lose his throne. The scribes and Pharisees also, those whitened sepulchers of evil, as Christ called them, instead of rejoicing, were filled with alarm; for they felt, and truly, that the promised Messiah would penetrate their interior, and censure their hypocrisy and malice. (more…)

THE WISE MEN
—- G.K. Chesterton

Step softly, under snow or rain,
To find the place where men can pray;
The way is all so very plain
That we may lose the way.

Oh, we have learnt to peer and pore
On tortured puzzles from our youth,
We know all labyrinthine lore,
We are the three wise men of yore,
And we know all things but the truth.

We have gone round and round the hill
And lost the wood among the trees,
And learnt long names for every ill,
And served the mad gods, naming still
The furies the Eumenides.

The gods of violence took the veil
Of vision and philosophy,
The Serpent that brought all men bale,
He bites his own accursed tail,
And calls himself Eternity. (more…)

Here, on this Feast of the Epiphany, are the London Symphony Orchestra and various choral singers performing British composer Ralph Vaughan Williams’s The March of the Kings from his Christmas Cantata Hodie (“This Day”). The text was written by the composer’s wife, Ursula.

From kingdoms of wisdom secret and far
come Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar;
they ride through time, they ride through night
led by the star’s foretelling light.

Crowning the skies the star of morning, star of dayspring, calls:
clear on the hilltop its sharp radiance falls
lighting the stable and the broken walls
where the prince lies.

Gold from the veins of earth he brings,
red gold to crown the King of Kings.
Power and glory here behold
shut in a talisman of gold. (more…)

"WHAT right had ingots of ruddy gold to be gleaming in the Cave of Bethlehem? Arabian perfumes were meeter for Herod's halls than for the cattle-shed scooped in the gloomy rock. The myrrh truly was in its place, however costly it might be; for it prophesied in pathetic silence of that bitter-sweet quintessence of love, which should be extracted for men from the Sacred Humanity of the Babe in the press of Calvary. Yet myrrh was a strange omen for a Babe who was the splendor of heaven and the joy of earth. How unmeet were all these things, and yet in their deep significance how meet! The strange secrecy too, with which this kingly oriental progress, with picturesque costumes, and jewelled turbans, and the dark-faced slaves, and the stately stepping camels, passed over many regions, makes it seem still more like a visionary splendor, a many-colored apparition, and not a sober mystery of the humble Incarnate Word. It is a bright vision of old heathen faith, of the first heathen faith that worshipped Mary's Son, and it is beautiful enough to give us faith in its own divinity. Yet it almost makes Bethlehem too beautiful. It dazzles us with its outward show, and makes the Cave look dark, when its oriental witchery has passed away. They, who dwell much in the world of the Sacred Infancy, know how oftentimes meditation on the Kings is too stirring and exciting for the austere tranquillity of contemplation, too manifold in the objects it brings before us, too various in the images it leaves behind. Truly it…

JOHN M. sends a donation and writes:

It’s that time of year when I need to catch up on blogger appreciation. You put a lot of work and care into your writing. And I believe you affect people in a positive way, probably more than you realize. Please keep doing it. Faith, sanity, personal integrity, memory, strong families, and the ability to discern truth from lies are all needed now more than ever. (more…)

ALAN writes:

My first Christmas was in 1949.  I can’t remember anything about it because I was mostly unconscious.

Fifty years later, my mother and I sat in the comfort of her apartment and watched the 1934 motion picture “March of the Wooden Soldiers.” The story takes place in Toyland. Victor Herbert’s song “Toyland” was, for me, an acute reminder of my boyhood years and the fact—which I could not have imagined in those years—that the end of life was now coming into view.

Not a Christmas went by in the 1950s without toys under our tree:  Coloring books, board games, jigsaw puzzles, water guns, cap guns, a paddle ball, Little Golden Books, a “Learn to Draw with Jon Gnagy” kit, and a plastic map of the United States in which 48 pieces represented the States, a map that I disassembled and assembled so many times that it taught me the proper location of all the States.

Of course I took it all for granted.  (more…)

MODERN democracy resembles not at all the beautiful myths of freedom and individual rights children are taught in schools.

No, in order to be a really successful politician today you have to be — please excuse my language —  a hired, treasonous scumbag, whatever party you follow. And if you are not a scumbag, you will be enticed and blackmailed into being one.

The story of the international sexual blackmail ring run by possibly-still-living Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell, who was just convicted in New York on serious charges other than treason and blackmail, is a glimpse into not just the crimes of two monsters and their cunning cruelty and narcissism — all of it larger than life — but into just how depraved (and linked to the international Octopus), democracy has become. Yeah, it’s “for the people.” It’s about as much for the people as Epstein’s Lolita Express, which was strictly for hired scumbags such as Donald Trump, Bill Clinton, Bill Gates, Alan Dershowitz. Prince Andrew and more. (more…)

CONSIDER ending 2021 with a modest contribution to this small, independent website that takes no advertising and recklessly panders to no one (not even to you, dear reader!!) Perhaps a year's worth of reading here is worth the cost of a few takeout coffees, a sandwich at a decent café or a single book from Amazon? This site does not make a profit and has not made a profit for years. I seek to cover some of the costs (e.g., security and back-up features, books, secure email account, space to work, post office box) and must make something to claim business expenses on my home office. Thank you to the generous readers who have given! I am filled with gratitude for the encouragement you give despite my inadequate and flawed efforts. This has been a tough year for everyone. The fight must go on. Please know that I have great optimism at this time and the energy to do more. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!

Quelle est cette odeur agréable
Traditional French Noel (Lorrain)
Translator: K. W. Simpson

1. What is this fragrance softly stealing?
Shepherds! It sets my heart a-stir!
Never was sweetness so appealing
Never were flowers of spring so fair!
What is this fragrance softly stealing?
Shepherds! It sets my heart a-stir! (more…)

WAS it the silence always around them? Was it the stars, their nightly companions? Was it the lambs and the darkened canyons? Why of all men was it only them?   If we could, would we hear the music? Would we bend to earth? Would we fall in wonder? If we could, would we have the courage? To see what was not for better men? ****  

ALAN writes:

To a little boy growing up in that decade, it seemed that Christmas was the high point of each year.  The sights and sounds and texture of those Christmases are kept in the deepest and darkest vault of my memories.  It never was the toys or gifts I received that lingered years afterward in memory.  It was something apart from those:  The spirit of those days around Christmas, a palpable spirit of good cheer, confidence, and expectation; the extended family and friends who came to visit; their company and conversation, punctuated every so often by laughter or the silence of remembering Christmases years before; and how the home in which I was fortunate to grow up became illuminated every Christmas by such people and the sound of their voices, the lights and colors of Christmas, and the soothing, inspirational sounds of Christmas Carols and music.

Such days and those people are alive to me again whenever I review the dozens of color slides that my mother took on such occasions.  Here are a few of them: (more…)