Mike's musings

Canonisation

(backposting) Oh, the other thing that I really, really should have blogged about yesterday was that we went over to Mark and Jen's for a lovely barbecue last night. Andy, Zae, Si and D were all there, and we were joined by Andi Chandler, though he took some time to arrive. We tracked him with Google Latitude, though, so had a good idea of where he was. We're sad. Maybe even more sad was my exclamation "I don't have a backtick!" when I tried to put Mark's auto-generated WPA key into my phone. We had a good time, and a good deal of alcohol was consumed, though luckily not by Moo (who got a bit bored of my driving "suggestions" on the way home).

More work in the garden today, and I also took the girls to the 1000 at Halstead. In the evening, I went to my training incumbent John's installation to a non-residential canonry in Chelmsford Cathedral. I wasn't very impressed with the sermon, which took the title of the book "If you meet George Herbert on the road, kill him." It's a reference to a story about the Buddha, and is supposed to deal with the unreal expectations that are put on clergy by his "The Country Parson". I take the book to be written not in the spirit of expectation, but of aspiration, particularly given his poems such as "Aaron" and "The Collar". My bishop, who I happened to mention it to, agreed...

Labels: geekery, poetry, sermon

Emily Dickinson (cont.)

'Twas my one Glory -
Let it be
Remembered
I was owned of Thee -

Labels: poetry

Emily Dickinson

I heard a Fly buzz -- when I died --
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air --
Between the Heaves of Storm --

The Eyes around -- had wrung them dry --
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset -- when the King
Be witnessed -- in the Room --

I willed my Keepsakes -- Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable -- and then it was
There interposed a Fly --

With Blue -- uncertain stumbling Buzz --
Between the light -- and me --
And then the Windows failed -- and then
I could not see to see --

Labels: death, poetry

First they came - Martin Niemöller

1976 version

Als die Nazis die Kommunisten holten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Kommunist.

Als sie die Sozialdemokraten einsperrten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Sozialdemokrat.

Als sie die Gewerkschafter holten,
habe ich nicht protestiert;
ich war ja kein Gewerkschafter.

Als sie mich holten,
gab es keinen mehr, der protestieren konnte.

English

When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.

Martin Niemöller

Labels: Nazism, persecution, poetry