Category Archives: quotes

He is nothing but war.

Alongside my reading of The Iliad itself, I have collected a few books from the library that are commentary or retellings. When I think about how many people have translated, interpreted and commented on Homer over the centuries, I realize I can only hope to scratch the surface layer of their insights, and of the poem — or poems, if I go ahead and read The Odyssey as well.

I am really enjoying The Iliad, but at this point in my life I don’t expect to gain enough knowledge to put together a whole essay. I will, however, feel free to share little bits related to that epic that are interesting to me. One of these is from a “Bloom’s Guide,” in which the literary critic Harold Bloom gives an introduction, and assembles a few articles by various other scholars. Bloom is known for his bold statements about culture and literature, and I appreciate that style, which is often refreshingly clarifying. This is an excerpt from the introduction to his guide to The Iliad:

“The heroes of the Hebrew Bible — Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, David — have no affinities whatsoever with Achilles. Even David, the only professional warrior among them, carries on their blessing from Yahweh and so is in a position beyond tragedy, despite his many griefs that terminate in the death of his beloved son, Absalom. You can make a covenant with Yahweh and then trust in the covenant, but no one can trust Zeus. Achilles is half a god, and he says that ‘who trusts himself to the gods will gain their hearing,’ but he knows that the response to such a hearing is likely to be equivocal, and they cannot free him from war, since despite his disillusion he is war and nothing but war. The poetic strength of Achilles is that he is a man. No other purely literary figure is nearly as heroic, or is aesthetically satisfying to us, but Achilles’ otherness, in relation to us, is now his dominant characteristic.”

-Harold Bloom

I have nothing belonging to me.

“What do I need? I need nothing on earth, except for the indispensable. What do I need? I need the Lord, I need His grace, His kingdom within me. On earth, the place of my pilgrimage, my temporary instruction, I have nothing belonging to me: everything is God’s, everything is transitory, indicated for temporary use. Whatever I have in excess belongs not to me, but to my poorer brothers.

“What do I need? I need true, Christian, living, active love. I need a loving heart, compassion for my neighbors, I need to feel joy at their happiness and well-being, sorrow during their sorrows and sicknesses, compassion for their sins, infirmities, disorders, deficiencies, misfortunes, poverty. I need warm, sincere sympathy for them in all the circumstances of their lives, to rejoice with those who rejoice, and to weep with those who weep.”

My Life in Christ: The Spiritual Journals of St John of Kronstadt by Ivan Ilyich Sergiev

St. John of Kronstadt was a beloved priest and spiritual father in the latter half of the 19th century, and into the 20th. His pastoral care and guidance in the spiritual life did much to prepare his flock for the sufferings they were to endure in the coming decades. He was born in 1829 and died in 1909. If you want to read more about him, here is a long article with his life story and many more quotes revealing his ministry of charity and encouragement: “Saint John of Kronstadt.”

Here is one paragraph from the article, to give you a glimpse of the character of this pastor:

“How did he manage to do it all? He had the ability – acquired, no doubt, by prayer and patience – to snatch a short period of deep sleep wherever and whenever he got the chance; and he had a great love of the early morning hours for prayer and meditation, but his early morning walks in his garden were soon discovered, and then – farewell to solitude! Often, indeed, he could barely save half-an-hour for his own prayers. On the rare occasions when he was able to pass a whole day in Kronstadt he liked to walk in the streets toward midnight, praying and meditating: if he saw a light, however, he would knock – often to comfort someone ill or dying, but just as ready to join in laughter and cheerful conversation, if that should be what he found. It is not surprising that he had moments of depression through sheer fatigue; he had been beset in the same way in his student days, then later he overcame them, as he overcame all, as he achieved all, by prayer and, above all, by devout reception of the holy communion.”

Cathedral of St Andrew in Kronstadt – destroyed in Soviet times.

 

The promise remains urgent.

I don’t think anyone has ever asked me a question of the sort, “What does it mean to you to be an American?” But last year in Athens I asked my taxi driver, “What makes you proud of your country?” and quickly realized that as my goal had been to start a conversation, he was the perfect person to ask. He answered, “The philosophers!”, and went on to talk at length, with some encouragement by more questions, about Plato, Aristotle, the ancient church fathers, the London School of Economics, the dire situation in the EU… Basically, it was all downhill from Plato. Greece is not what it was.

The United States of America is not what it was 50, 100 or 250 years ago. I am just one citizen, in our diverse culture  — or anti-culture. It’s hard for me to think of my country in the abstract, as an idea, especially if that is to be deduced from the behavior of the total population. There have been many individuals who asked God for His help and tried to live virtuous lives, who also called themselves Americans. I would like to be that sort of citizen, so maybe my answer to the meaning question would be, “It means that I pray with the Church, ‘For our country, the president, all those in civil authority, and for the armed forces: Lord, have mercy.'”

Founding Fathers, National Archive

I was glad to see that some Orthodox Church leaders have given us a word on the occasion of this 250th anniversary of our nation:

Two hundred and fifty years is a span of time sufficient to accumulate both great achievements and grave failures. This nation—like all nations under God—has known the heights of generosity and the depths of injustice; the nobility of aspiration and the tragedy of betrayal. The Church does not pretend otherwise, nor would it serve this nation’s good for her to do so.

We bear witness to a God before Whom no nation and no person stands without need of mercy. The promise spoken to Solomon rings out across the centuries with undiminished urgency: “If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” (1 Chronicles 7:14)

It is in this spirit that we call the faithful of the Orthodox Church in America—and, through their witness, this nation—to repentance: repentance for injustices past and present; for the idols of wealth, comfort, and power that seduce every generation; for the divisions and enmities that tear at the fabric of common life; and for the ways in which we have failed to love our neighbors as ourselves.

A true commemoration of a nation’s founding is not mere self-congratulation; it is a moment of sober examination, of honest confession, and of renewed dependence upon God. The Church does not speak this word from a posture of superiority. We acknowledge our own failures—in charity, in unity, and in the fullness of our witness to the Gospel. We, too, stand in need of God’s mercy. But it is precisely because the Church has known the healing power of repentance that she cannot withhold this word from the world she is called to serve.

—Excerpt from the Holy Synod of the Orthodox Church in America

Let me be taken in.

Oh, but I do love this thought from G.K. Chesterton, which I shared five years ago today, so maybe that is long enough ago that it will be fresh for some of you, as it is for me. WordPress has started doing this thing to keep us on the site longer, where they show us a list of titles of our past blog posts, what we have posted on this day in years past, with links to click through and read. It is sometimes surprising, and/or pleasingly nostalgic, to fall into these little traps, though I think G.K. would say, “Those are not the sort of traps I was thinking of!” 

“His soul will never starve for exploits or excitements who is wise enough to be made a fool of. He will make himself happy in the traps that have been laid for him; he will roll in their nets and sleep. All doors will fly open to him who has a mildness more defiant than mere courage… [He] will always be ‘taken in.’ To be taken in everywhere is to see the inside of everything. It is the hospitality of circumstance. With torches and trumpets, like a guest, the greenhorn is taken in by Life. And the sceptic is cast out by it.”

G.K. Chesterton, in Charles Dickens

July 2025