All posts by GretchenJoanna

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About GretchenJoanna

Orthodox Christian, widowed in 2015; mother, grandmother. Love to read, garden, cook, write letters and a hundred other home-making activities.

What Tess did write about.

beauty, poetry, winter, ,

WINTER SOLSTICE

I will not write about Christmas lights garlanding the tree,
how steadily red blends to sapphire  emerald  gold,
how strong the little bulbs must be to throw their dancing hearts
upon the café wall, how children try to catch them.
I will not say there is tinsel draped about the branches
like seaweed over pebbles, nor paint the cloths swaddling our skins
apricot, indigo, violet, teal. I will not speak of glazed
pastries on the counter, how they shine so much
they could be varnished, there for the hell-of-it, for the sheer
beauty of their glistening berries. I’ll turn away from buses heaving
down the rush-hour road, ignore how in all this rain
the headlamps could be tumbling garnets, polished amber,
as if a picture-book box of pirate treasure had spilt its pearls
and precious stones across a tarmacked page.

I will not describe how the sun becomes the sea, I will not delight
in words to name its colours – cerise, crimson, indigo,
scarlet, madder, rose. I will not try to find a way
to show your smile across the table, how it slips like warm charcoal
into the fabric of my heart. I will not suggest I light a candle
as the year prepares to wane, that you hold a second wick to mine
then another and another, that together we whisper a prayer
for each growing flame. I will not talk about the light
that is everywhere, how far you have to travel for the sky
to be completely black (and even then there are stars, there is the moon’s
borrowed brightness). I will not question why fire burns more fiercely  
before sputtering out, or how – when we know we’re dying –
we can be so fully alive. I will not say these things because this
is a poem about darkness. I am writing about the darkness.

-Tess Jolly

Pippin photo

The Angel Gabriel from Heaven Came…

art, icons, music, , , ,

…His wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame…

The first lines of the carol “Gabriel’s Message” take my imagination straight up to Heaven, and down again to the encounter the Virgin Mary had with the Angel Gabriel. This song of the Annunciation I heard for the first time a couple of years ago. Nowadays, if I so much as think about it once in the morning, or often even without consciously bringing it to mind, it plays in my head all day, beautifully, joyously.

In looking for a YouTube video of it to share here, I found that I don’t like the ones in which boys’ choirs are singing sweetly bird-like. It seems a strong man’s voice should speak the message of the first two stanzas, which come from Gabriel.

This version is my all around favorite, in which a choir sings in lower registers.

This man singing solo is my favorite manly rendition. I like the way he sings it straight, and the only way I’d improve on it is to not have to look at him as the performer.

I was interested to see that there aren’t many icons or paintings of Gabriel in which his wings look anything like drifted snow. In fact, the image of drifted snow doesn’t evoke the idea of the strength that would be necessary for the swift messenger of God we know an angel to be. In many paintings Gabriel’s wings look very powerful, and poised to be in flight in an instant, at the next word from God. But the phrase does make me think of purity, and certainly the scene of fresh snow is somewhat other-worldly.

Angels do not have any inherent form; they are spiritual beings who only take on human-like form in order to be seen by those who are given the spiritual eyes to see. We don’t have a record of how the Archangel Gabriel appeared to the eyes of the Virgin, but we do know his message:

GABRIEL’S MESSAGE

1 The angel Gabriel from heaven came,
his wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame;
“All hail,” said he to meek and lowly Mary,
“most highly favored maiden.” Gloria!

2 “I come from heav’n to tell the Lord’s decree:
a blessed virgin mother you shall be.
Your Son shall be Immanuel, by seers foretold,
most highly favored maiden.” Gloria!

3 Then gentle Mary meekly bowed her head;
“To me be as it pleases God,” she said.
“My soul shall laud and magnify his holy name.”
Most highly favored maiden, Gloria!

4 Of her, Immanuel, the Christ, was born
In Bethlehem, all on a Christmas morn,
and Christian folk throughout the world will ever say,
“Most highly favored maiden.” Gloria!

Annibale Carracci, 1600

 

Shame and the modern identity.

books, humanity, quotes, , , ,

Father Stephen Freeman by his writing has been helping us for a long time, to understand how shame motivates our behavior, both good and bad. There is both healthy shame, which we are “hardwired” with, and toxic shame, which often has unhealthy ramifications down through the generations.

One particular article, “Shame and the Modern Identity,” I’ve wanted to share a link to for some time. In it Fr. Stephen explains how it happens that we start with a necessary form of shame and end up with the painful and crippling emotion of shame.

“We could say that toxic shame, or damaging shame, is the abuse of something that is essential and necessary. That is a useful understanding, and points to just how tricky the acquisition and formation of identity is. It is a razor’s edge and pretty much no one survives the years of its acquisition without a legacy of unwanted shame. The years following that acquisition can often be occupied with the patient work of cleaning up the unwanted bits that shadow our existence. Adults gradually gain a sense of their identity, but very few feel entirely secure about it. ‘Who am I’ can be a haunting question, for example, for someone going through a divorce or a loss of employment. When the props that we have gathered in the establishment of an identity are removed, it’s easy to fall apart.”

If you read the article linked above and still want more, you are in luck. Just last spring Fr. Stephen’s book came out: Face to Face: Knowing God beyond Our Shame. It is good to have much of his wisdom on the subject gathered in one place. Even those of us who aren’t plagued with these emotions ourselves likely know someone who is, and could possibly benefit from more understanding for their sake.

A little girl is singing.

Christmas, poetry, ,

FOR MAIA

A little girl is singing for the faithful to come ye
Joyful and triumphant, a song she loves,
And also the partridge in a pear tree
And the golden rings and the turtle doves.
In the dark streets, red lights and green and blue
Where the faithful live, some joyful, some
troubled,
Enduring the cold and also the flu,
Taking the garbage out and keeping the
sidewalk shoveled.
Not much triumph going on here—and yet
There is much we do not understand.
And my hopes and fears are met
In this small singer holding onto my hand.
….Onward we go, faithfully, into the dark
….And are there angels singing overhead?
Hark.

-Gary Johnson