Category Archives: history

O friend unseen, unborn, unknown…

history, poetry, time, ,

TO A POET A THOUSAND YEARS HENCE

I who am dead a thousand years,
And wrote this sweet archaic song,
Send you my words for messengers
The way I shall not pass along.

I care not if you bridge the seas,
Or ride secure the cruel sky,
Or build consummate palaces
Of metal or of masonry.

But have you wine and music still,
And statues and a bright-eyed love,
And foolish thoughts of good and ill,
And prayers to them who sit above?

How shall we conquer? Like a wind
That falls at eve our fancies blow,
And old Maeonides the blind
Said it three thousand years ago.

O friend unseen, unborn, unknown,
Student of our sweet English tongue,
Read out my words at night, alone:
I was a poet, I was young.

Since I can never see your face,
And never shake you by the hand,
I send my soul through time and space
To greet you. You will understand.

-James Elroy Flecker

Lesen, by Ulrich Bittmann

Like an anvil, and bread baking: St. Polycarp

church, history, saints, , , , , , ,

St. Polycarp was born in the first century and was burned at the stake in the second. Because of an early and well known document, The Martyrdom of Polycarp, thought to be the oldest authentic account of an early Christian martyr’s death, he is one of the most famous who have refused to deny Christ in the face of extreme threats.

His life is connected to several other notable saints, earlier and later, starting with St. John the Apostle and Evangelist, whom he knew and talked with; St. Ignatius, who met him and afterward sent a long letter of exhortation to him; and St. Irenaeus of Lyons, who was baptized by Bishop Polycarp when a youth and was sent by him as a missionary to Gaul.

The Letter of St. Ignatius to St. Polycarp resonates with life and the vibrant faith of the writer and the churches of Christ in those early centuries. An excerpt:

“Stand firm, as does an anvil which is beaten. It is the part of a noble athlete to be wounded, and yet to conquer. And especially, we ought to bear all things for the sake of God, that He also may bear with us. Be ever becoming more zealous than what you are. Weigh carefully the times. Look for Him, who is above all time, eternal and invisible, yet who became visible for our sakes; impalpable and impassible, yet who became passible on our account, and who in every kind of way suffered for our sakes.”

The author of “The Martyrdom of Polycarp” is unknown, but it was sent to the church in Philomelium, Asia Minor, from the church in Smyrna. Here is one paragraph from the letter:

“And as the flame blazed forth in great fury, we, to whom it was given to witness it, beheld a great miracle, and have been preserved that we might report to others what then took place. For the fire, shaping itself into the form of an arch, like the sail of a ship when filled with the wind, encompassed as by a circle the body of the martyr. And he appeared within not like flesh which is burnt, but as bread that is baked, or as gold and silver glowing in a furnace. Moreover, we perceived such a sweet odour, as if frankincense or some such precious spices had been smoking there.”

In a letter to his friend Florinus, after the death of Polycarp, St. Irenaeus writes fondly of his elder in the faith:

“I can even describe the place where the blessed Polycarp used to sit and discourse — his going out, too, and his coming in — his general mode of life and personal appearance, together with the discourses which he delivered to the people; also how he would speak of his familiar intercourse with John, and with the rest of those who had seen the Lord; and how he would call their words to remembrance. Whatsoever things he had heard from them respecting the Lord, both with regard to His miracles and His teaching, Polycarp having thus received from the eye-witnesses of the Word of life, would recount them all in harmony with the Scriptures. These things, through God’s mercy which was upon me, I then listened to attentively, and treasured them up not on paper, but in my heart; and I am continually, by God’s grace, revolving these things accurately in my mind.”

On this day on which we commemorate St. Polycarp, I will be listening to a sonata composed in his honor by Heinrich Biber (1644-1704): “Sancti Polycarpi”, and “revolving these things” I’ve been learning about these men in my own mind —  their struggle to stand firm, as St Ignatius exhorted, and to “Weigh carefully the times. Look for Him, who is above all time….” Thank you, Lord, for the ever encouraging testimony of your saints, and on this day, especially that of Saint Polycarp of Smyrna. +

The Word came to Zachariah.

history, quotes, saints, , , , ,

Not since I was a teenager have I given much attention to the message of the Prophet Zachariah. Our youth group studied the Minor Prophets of the Old Testament with the pastor of the Presbyterian Church in my little town. I remember nothing specific about Zachariah, and I doubt that our course material included learning that he is called “The Sickle-Seer.”

His feast day is today, so I read a little by and about this servant of God who was born in Babylon, was called to be prophet at a young age, and died around 520 B.C.

“The Book of the Prophet Zachariah contains inspired details about the coming of the Messiah (Zach 6:12); about the last days of the Savior’s earthly life, about the Entry of the Lord into Jerusalem on a young donkey (Zach 9:9); about the betrayal of the Lord for thirty pieces of silver and the purchase of the potter’s field with them (Zach 11:12-13); about the piercing of the Savior’s side (Zach 12:10); about the scattering of the apostles from the Garden of Gethsemane (Zach 13:7); about the eclipse of the sun at the time of the Crucifixion (Zach 14:6-7).” oca

He is known as the “Sickle-Seer” because of a vision described in the fifth chapter of the Book of Zachariah, in which he saw a sickle flying through the air, destroying thieves and liars. I notice that most translations call this not a sickle but a scroll, but it’s easy to see why the Septuagint text might be correct about the word, as a sickle would be more effective at destroying the sinners than a scroll, as this page explains.

Commenting on the first verse of the book, “In the eighth month of the second year of the reign of Darius, the word of the Lord came to Zechariah, son of Berechiah, son of Addo the prophet….,” the Orthodox Study Bible notes:

“The identity of the prophet and the time of the prophecy are not merely historical references, they are eternally significant because the revelation of God came to Zechariah at this time.

“The word of the Lord is an action of God in His graceful self-disclosure. The word of the Lord comes to Zechariah veiled, but when the Messiah comes in Bethlehem of Judea five centuries later, He comes in the flesh. Indeed, the language of the LXX [The Greek Septuagint] here parallels the language used by John to describe the Incarnation (see Jn 1:1-18). The Word who comes to Zechariah is truly the eternal Son of God, the Word of God, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity who becomes flesh as Jesus Christ.”

Saving the mystery women.

history, women,

Last year I spent quite a few hours sorting through photos of several generations of ancestors, my late husband’s family and mine, plus those of our own immediate family, children and grandchildren. I barely made a dent in the collections!

My husband’s family seems to have taken more photographs of their relations, and saved many more than people on my side have done. And while my siblings keep and store some of our relatives’ pictures, I am the sole curator of those that were passed to us from my in-laws and their in-laws, and so forth.

It wasn’t too hard to find at least a thousand pictures that could be put in the trash. It pains me to say that, because an image of a human made in the image of God feels like it retains something of the holiness of that connection, and it doesn’t seem right to be disrespectful of it. That shows that I come from a generation before digital images. I discard those with abandon.

Many that I tossed, however, were of such poor quality that I couldn’t see the faces, and quite a few were superfluous, because of there being much better or identical pictures of those people in existence. I have many more to purge, hopefully this year, but I have sifted through the oldest ones.

Among the boxes of pictures coming from my husband’s family, the third category that I needed to discard was this: Women who were unidentified, and did not match any pictures of known relations. Yes, there were also some mystery men, but they did not impress me in any way. Most didn’t look composed, or handsome. I felt differently about the women, I suppose because I am a woman.

Were they distant cousins? College friends? Maiden aunts? No one in my family knew them, no one cares about them. They all sleep in death. But — I did care about them. A hundred years ago they meant something to someone in our family, and since it is so easy to save digital images, I laid their paper pictures out on the carpet and took group photos.

I hope that each of them is known by name by someone somewhere, friends or descendants who have copies of these photos that that they won’t throw in the trash for a while yet. My curiosity about them is curious, these who represent thousands and billions who no longer walk the earth, most of whom never had their picture taken. But even if they are all forgotten by us living humans, God does know about them. And I, briefly, knew them ever so slightly….