For Tamara
When the light breaks through,
when our hearts beat with yours
Tamara dear,
then we know that we too
have been refined by the fires
of Auschwitz you knew
for our lives have changed,
having learned from you
and your hands' work
what faith, hope and love
can do.
Tamara Deuel : Auschwitz Survivor, Poetess, Sculptress.
We corresponded, each encouraging the other to focus on Auschwitz in our art, to keep Auschwitz alive in people's memory, especially in the young.
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+ June 26, 2007
Do the stars shine friendly down at me tonight blinking through such small radiant eyes, or are they cold? They seem to be holding back all the glory that is behind, dispensing of it in miserly measured portions.
I look into faces and find that the most beautiful are those that have suffered most.
The Archbishop of Baltimore has ordered Father Ray Martin to resign as pastor of three churches and sign a statement apologizing for "bringing scandal to the church".
Father Martin was cited for the liturgical offence of celebrating a funeral Mass with several clergy including a very close friend of the deceased, Rev. Annette Chappell, pastor of the Episcopal Church of the Redemption. She read the Gospel.
He was also cited for the administrative offence of hiring a maintenance man who had criminal charges on his record.
My Lord! . . . we Catholics!
I heard on the radio that the Russians have developed the most potent bomb in existence. It spreads less pollution and does less damage to the environment. Did I hear that right?
It was dark this morning and foggy. With my coat collar up around my ears I felt hugged and somehow protected. Walking across the fields I could see nothing but the path passing under my feet. In the distance the sound of cars rushing to their urgent destinations. Oh darkness, stay! . . . How will I ever be able to face the bright, glaring days of spring when everyone is so happy and dancing blithely around the maypole?
Deus, deus meus est, sollicite te quaero. Te sitit anima mea, desiderat te caro mea . . . Ps. 62
God, my God, I search for You with a disquieted heart. My soul longs for You, my flesh yearns for You . . .
I went to the old monk and asked him where I should look for my obscure God Who is always hiding from me. He turned to me, smiled and said: Everywhere.
I often wonder if I would have had the inner strength and courage, had I been here in Germany then, to stand up against the omnipresent subtle magic and brutal terror of Hitler's seduction. I wonder. . .
With oil pushing $100 a barrel today, Love is still for free.
Never liked sports or games where the point was to triumph over the other person. But often I heard them saying there must be something wrong with me.
