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Admiration

Admiration is not approval and it is not flattery. It is the body's recognition that someone else has gotten something right — the chest lifting slightly, the attention turning fully outward, the self briefly content to be the witness rather than the witnessed. Vela reads admiration as one of the social emotions that builds a life: who one admires shapes who one becomes.

Working definition · Esteem or appreciative warmth directed at another person, act, or quality.

5752 passages · 5 Vela essays · in 1 cluster

Vela’s read on this emotion

Admiration is the social emotion most likely to be confused with its weaker cousins. Approval is conditional; admiration is unconditional. Flattery is performed; admiration is involuntary. Envy is the corruption of admiration when the witness cannot bear the other's having gotten it right; admiration itself is the un-corrupted form — the witness content to have seen.

The memoir reads admiration where it is least guarded. Gloria Steinem's *My Life on the Road* tracks the women she came up admiring — Wilma Mankiller, Florynce Kennedy, the organizers whose names did not make the news — and is honest that admiration is what taught her to do the work at all. Trevor Noah's *Born a Crime* writes his mother's admiration-shape as the inheritance: a child learns what counts as a serious life by watching the adult who is leading one. Tara Westover's *Educated* preserves admiration's complications — the long work of admiring teachers and writers who taught her things her family had refused to.

The contemplative literature treats admiration as a discipline of seeing. Augustine of Hippo, writing the *Confessions* in the late fourth century, named admiration of God as the corrective for admiration of the self. Saint-Exupéry's *The Little Prince* turns admiration toward the small and the easily overlooked. The biographical tradition — Plutarch, Boswell, the modern memoir — exists in part to make admiration usable: the admired life rendered specific enough to learn from.

Admiration is not the same as approval, awe, envy, or flattery. Approval is the conditional acknowledgment that someone has met a standard; admiration is the unconditional recognition that they have exceeded one. Awe is the more disproportionate cousin — the witness flooded rather than steadied. Envy is admiration that cannot bear its own subordination. Flattery is the performance of admiration without its substance.

Study and magazine

Long-form guide in the magazine

An essay on how this word lives in language, in the tagged corpus, and in figurative art when curators pair passage with image — not a list of stages, not permission to feel.

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Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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5752 tagged passages

  • From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

    His father is never mentioned nor his mother; nor is there any record of his descent; there is no mention of the beginning of his days nor any of the end of his life; he is exactly like the Son of God; and he remains a priest forever. Just see how great this man was – Abraham gave him the tenth part of the spoils of victory – and Abraham was no less than the founder of our nation. Now look at the difference – when the sons of Levi receive their priesthood, they receive an injunction laid down by the law to exact tithes from the people. That is to say, they exact tithes from their own brothers, even although they are descendants of Abraham. But this man, whose descent is not traced through them at all, exacted tithes from Abraham and actually blessed the man who had received the promises. Beyond all argument, the lesser is blessed by the greater. Just so, in the one instance, it is a case of men who die receiving tithes; but, in this instance, it is the case of a man whom the evidence proves to live. Still further – if I may put it this way – through Abraham, Levi, too, the very man who receives the tithes, had tithes exacted from him, for he was in his father’s body when Melchizedek met him. If, then, the desired effect could have been achieved by the Levitical priesthood – for it was on the basis of it that the people became a people of the law – what further need was there to set up another priest and to call him a priest after the order of Melchizedek, and not to call him a priest after the order of Aaron? Once the priesthood was altered, of necessity there follows an alteration of the law too, for the person of whom the statements are made belongs to another tribe altogether, from which no one ever served at the altar. It is obvious that it was from Judah that our Lord sprang, and, with regard to that tribe, Moses said nothing about priests. And certain things are still more abundantly clear – if a different priest is set up, a priest after the order of Melchizedek, a priest who has become so, not according to the law of a mere human injunction but according to the power of a life that is indestructible – for the witness of Scripture in regard to this is: ‘You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek’ – if all that is so, two things emerge.

  • From Comrade Loves of the Samurai (1972)

    1 Love Vowed to the Dead T HE SHYOGUN* YOSHlMASA, A FORMER RULER of Japan, had, beside a passionate general love for all arts and delicate pleasures, a particular love for incense. He had made a collection of the various incense from the trees of every province of Japan, and his sense of smell was so nice that he could appreciate the most subtle difference in their perfume. One cold autumn evening he was talking with his friends of his dear incense. Night was drawing on, and a breath of air came suddenly into the room carrying a soft and delicious scent. Neither he nor his friends had ever known so tender a perfume. He ordered one of his attendants to search the palace for its origin; but it could not be found in the palace. Then he sent his favourite, Toshikiyo Tambanokami, to find out where that incense burned, and he immediately set out with his two servants. The scent was very faint, but, when they had crossed the meadows to the bank of the river Kamo, it became stronger. It floated from the other bank of the river, so Toshikiyo crossed by a ford. This was the evening of the sixth of November, and dark, for there was no moon. They crossed the river by the pale light of the stars set high in heaven. On the other bank they found a man seated upon a rock, wearing an old cloak made of Straw and a rush hat. In his sleeves he held a censer. He had an air of peace and serenity. Toshikiyo asked him: 'Dear Stranger, why are you alone in such a place so late at night?' And while he was speaking, he smelt the perfume for which he sought, rising from the Stranger's censer. The other replied: 'I am watching the flight of the river Kamo's singing plovers.' Toshikiyo was impressed by this answer. . To be able to listen to the plovers of the river on so cold and dark a night, the man must be finely cultured and could not be of low class. He said to him more politely: 'Excuse my curiosity, but I come at the command of my master, the Shyôgun Yoshimasa, to seek the man who diffuses so sweet a perfume. Who are you, Stranger?' The man answered: '1 am not a priest who has renounced all worldly matters for the love of Buddha. Neither am I an ordinary man. Behold me rather a traveller, with no place to lay my head. I am more than sixty-six years old, but my feet are Still firm and I can walk freely.' And he arose and Started toward the pines by the water side. It was a plain reply, yet full of mystery. Toshikiyo was even more surprised than before; he held the stranger back and asked him: 'I beg you to tell me the name of the incense you burn.

  • From The Girls (2016)

    “I think I saw you the other day,” I said. “By the Hi-Ho?” She didn’t respond, giving me nothing to grab on to. “You were with some girls?” I said. “And a bus came?” “Oh,” she said, her face reanimating. “Yeah, that idiot was real mad.” She relaxed into the memory. “I have to keep the other girls in line, you know, or they’d just fall all over themselves. Get us caught.” I was watching Suzanne with an interest that must have been obvious: she let me look at her without any self-consciousness. “I remembered your hair,” I said. Suzanne seemed pleased. Touching the ends, absently. “I never cut it.” I would find out, later, that this was something Russell told them not to do. Suzanne nestled the toilet paper to her chest, suddenly proud. “You want me to give you some money for this?” She had no pockets, no purse. “Nah,” I said. “It’s not like it cost me anything.” “Well, thanks,” she said, with obvious relief. “You live around here?” “Pretty close,” I said. “With my mom.” Suzanne nodded. “What street?” “Morning Star Lane.” She made a hum of surprise. “Fancy.” I could see it meant something to her, me living in the nice part of town, but I couldn’t imagine what, beyond the vague dislike for the rich that all young people had. Mashing up the wealthy and the media and the government into an indistinct vessel of evil, perpetrators of the grand hoax. I was only just starting to learn how to rig certain information with apology. How to mock myself before other people could. “What about you?” She made a fluttery motion with her fingers. “Oh,” she said, “you know. We’ve got some things going on. But a lot of people in one place”—she held up the bag—“means a lot of asses that need wiping. We’re low on money, at this exact moment, but that’ll turn, soon, I’m sure.” We. The girl was part of a we, and I envied her ease, her surety of where she was aimed after the parking lot. Those two other girls I’d seen

  • From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

    The Virgin Mary marks the turning point in the history of the female sex. As the mother of Christ, the second Adam, she corresponds to Eve, and is, in a spiritual sense, the mother of all living.628 In her, the "blessed among women," the whole sex wass blessed, and the curse removed which had hung over the era of the fall. She was not, indeed, free from actual and native sin, as is now, taught, without the slightest ground in Scripture, by the Roman church since the 8th of December, 1854. On the contrary, as a daughter of Adam, she needed, like all men, redemption and sanctification through Christ, the sole author of sinless holiness, and she herself expressly calls God her Saviour.629 But in the mother and educator of the Saviour of the world we no doubt may and should revere, though not worship, the model of female Christian virtue, of purity, tenderness, simplicity, humility, perfect obedience to God, and unreserved surrender to Christ. Next to her we have a lovely group of female disciples and friends around the Lord: Mary, the wife of Clopas; Salome, the mother of James and John; Mary of Bethany, who sat at Jesus’ feet; her busy and hospitable sister, Martha; Mary of Magdala, whom the Lord healed of a demoniacal possession; the sinner, who washed his feet with her tears of penitence and wiped them with her hair; and all the noble women, who ministered to the Son of man in his earthly poverty with the gifts of their love,630 lingered last around his cross,631 and were the first at his open sepulchre on the, morning of the resurrection.632 Henceforth we find woman no longer a slave of man and tool of lust, but the pride and joy of her husband, the fond mother training her children to virtue and godliness, the ornament and treasure of the family, the faithful sister, the zealous servant of the congregation in every work of Christian charity, the sister of mercy, the martyr with superhuman courage, the guardian angel of peace, the example of purity, humility, gentleness, patience, love, and fidelity unto death. Such women were unknown before. The heathen Libanius, the enthusiastic eulogist of old Grecian culture, pronounced an involuntary eulogy on Christianity when he exclaimed, as he looked at the mother of Chrysostom: "What women the Christians have!" § 47. Christianity and the Family. H. Gregoire: De l’influence du christianisme sur la condition des femmes. Paris, 1821. F. Münter: Die Christin im heidnischen Hause vor den Zeiten Constantin’s des Grossen. Kopenhagen, 1828. Julia Kavanagh: Women of Christianity, Exemplary for Acts of Piety and Charity. Lond., 1851; N. York, 1866. Thus raising the female sex to its true freedom and dignity, Christianity transforms and sanctifies the entire family life. It abolishes polygamy, and makes monogamy the proper form of marriage; it condemns concubinage with all forms of unchastity and impurity.

  • From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

    Literature: Works.—Complete ed. by Luke Wadding, 12 vols., Lyons, 1639, with a Life by Wadding, and the glosses of Hugh MacCaghwell (Hugo Cavellus, d. 1626), abp. of Armagh, Maurice O’Fihely, abp. of Tuam, etc. *New ed., 26 vols., Paris, 1891–1895, with some changes.—The Opus Oxoniense, Vienna, 1481, ed. by MacCaghwell together with the Reportata Parisiensia and Quaestiones Quodlibetales and a Life, Antwerp, 1620.—The Quaestiones Quodlibet., Venice, 1474, 1505, Paris, 1513.—The Logical Treatises were publ. at Barcelona, 1475, Venice, 1491–1493, and ed. by O’Fihely, 1504.—Duns’ system was expounded by Angelo Vulpi in Sacr. theol. Summa Joan. Scoti, 12 vols., Naples, 1622–1640. For biogr. and analytic works publ. before 1800, see Rigg in Dict. Of Natl. Biog. XVI. 216 sqq.—Baumgarten-Crusius: De theol. Scoti, Jena, 1826.—Schneid: D. Körperlehre des J. Duns Sc. und ihr Verhältniss zum Thomismus und Atomismus, Mainz, 1879.—*C. Werner: J. Duns Sc., Vienna, 1881, also S. Thomas von Aquino, III, 3–101.—Kahl: D. Primat des Willens bei Augustinus, Duns Sc. und Des Cartes, Strassb., 1886.—*R. Seeberg: D. Theologie des J. Duns Sc., Leip., 1900; also his art. in Herzog, 3d ed. and his Dogmengesch., II. 129 sqq.—Renan: art. Scotus, in Hist. Lit. de France, vol. XXV.—*Döllinger: art. in Wetzer-Welte, X. 2123–2133.—J. M. Rigg: in Dict. Natl. Biog., XVI. 216–220.—*Schwane: Dogmengesch., pp. 74–76, etc.—Harnack: Dogmengesch., III. 459 sqq.—*A. Ritschl: Rechtfertigung und Versöhnung, I. 58–86; Gesch. des Pietismus, I. 470.—P. Minges: Ist Duns Scotus Indeterminist? Münster, 1905, p. 139.—The Histt. of Philos. The last of the scholastic thinkers of the first rank and the most daring of mediaeval logicians is John Duns Scotus. With his death the disintegration of scholastic theology begins. This remarkable man, one of the intellectual prodigies of the race, may have been under forty years of age when death overtook him. His dialectic genius and ingenuity won for him the title of the Subtle doctor, doctor subtilis. His intellectual independence is shown in the freedom with which he subjected his predecessors to his searching and often sophistical criticisms. Anselm, the St. Victors, Albert the Great, Bonaventura, Thomas Aquinas, Henry of Ghent, and other Schoolmen he does not hesitate to mention by name and to assail their views. The discussions of Thomas Aquinas are frequently made the subject of his attack. Duns became the chief theological ornament of the Franciscan order and his theology was defended by a distinct school, which took his name, the Scotists. This school and the Thomists, who followed the teachings of Thomas Aquinas, are the leading schools of theology produced in the Middle Ages and came into violent controversy.

  • From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

    In anthropology he forms the transition from the Oriental doctrine to the system of Augustine, whose teacher and forerunner he was. He is most peculiar in his ethics, which he has set forth in his three books De Officiis. As a pulpit orator he possessed great dignity, force, and unction, and made a deep impression on Augustine, to whose conversion he contributed a considerable share. Many mothers forbade their daughters to hear him lest he should induce them to lead a life of celibacy. Ambrose has also a very important place in the history of worship, and did immortal service for the music and poetry of the church, as in a former section we have seen.2090 Here again, as in theology and exegesis, he brought over the treasures of the Greek church into the Latin. The church of Milan uses to this day a peculiar liturgy which is called after him the ritus Ambrosianus. § 176. Jerome as a Divine and Scholar. Comp. the Literature at § 41; and especially the excellent monograph (which has since reached us) of Prof. Otto Zöckler: Hieronymus. Sein Leben und Wirken aus seinen Schriften dargestellt. Gotha, 1865. Having already sketched the life and character of Jerome (born about 340, died in 419) in connection with the history of monasticism, we limit ourselves here to his theological and literary labors, in which he did his chief service to the church, and has gained the greatest credit to himself.

  • From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

    The most imposing appearance of our bishop against the temporal power was in his dealing with Theodosius, when this truly great, but passionate and despotic, emperor, enraged at Thessalonica for a riot, had caused many thousand innocent persons to be put to death with the guilty, and Ambrose, interesting himself for the unfortunate, like a Nathan with David, demanded repentance of the emperor, and refused him the holy communion. "How wilt thou," said he to him in the vestibule of the church, "how wilt thou lift up in prayer the hands still dripping with the blood of the murdered? How wilt thou receive with such hands the most holy body of the Lord? How wilt thou bring to thy mouth his precious blood? Get thee away, and dare not to heap crime upon crime." When Theodosius appealed to David’s murder and adultery, the bishop answered: "Well, if thou hast imitated David in sin, imitate him also in repentance."2085 The emperor actually submitted to ecclesiastical discipline, made public confession of his sin, and did not receive absolution until he had issued a law that the sentence of death should never be executed till thirty days after it was pronounced.2086 From this time the relation between Ambrose and Theodosius continued undisturbed, and the emperor is reported to have said afterwards with reference to the bishop, that he had recently found the first man who told him the truth, and that he knew only one man who was worthy to be bishop. He died in the arms of Ambrose at Milan in 395. The bishop delivered his funeral oration in which he tells, to his honor, that on his dying bed he was more concerned for the condition of the church than for himself, and says to the soldiers: "The faith of Theodosius was your victory; let your truth and faith be the strength of his sons. Where unbelief is, there is blindness, but where fidelity is, there is the host of angels." Two years after this, Ambrose himself was fatally sick. All Milan was in terror. When he was urged to pray God for a lengthening of his life, he answered: "I have so lived among you that I cannot be ashamed to live longer; but neither do I fear to die; for we have a good Lord." During his sickness he had miraculous intimations and heard heavenly voices, and he himself related that Christ appeared to him smiling.

  • From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

    Apaugasma can mean one of two things in Greek. It can mean brilliance, the light which shines out, or it can mean reflection, the light which is reflected. Here, it probably means brilliance. Jesus is the shining of God’s glory among us. He says that he was the charactēr of God’s very essence. In Greek, charactēr means two things – first, a seal, and, second, the impression that the seal leaves on the wax. The impression has the exact form of the seal. So, when the writer to the Hebrews said that Jesus was the charactēr of the being of God, he meant that he was the exact image of God. Just as, when you look at the impression, you see exactly what the seal which made it is like, so when you look at Jesus you see exactly what God is like. In his commentary, the nineteenth-century scholar and churchman C. J. Vaughan has pointed out that this passage tells us six great things about Jesus. (1) The original glory of God belongs to him. Here is a wonderful thought. Jesus is God’s glory; therefore, we see with amazing clarity that the glory of God consists not in crushing men and women and reducing them to miserable submission and slavery, but in serving them and loving them and in the end dying for them. It is not the glory of shattering power but the glory of suffering love. (2) The destined empire belongs to Jesus. The New Testament writers never doubted his ultimate triumph. Think of it. They were thinking of a Galilaean carpenter who was crucified as a criminal on a cross on a hill outside the city of Jerusalem. They themselves faced savage persecution and were the humblest of people. As the Yorkshire poet Sir William Watson said of them: So to the wild wolf Hate were sacrificed The panting, huddled flock, whose crime was Christ. And yet they never doubted the eventual victory. They were quite certain that God’s love was backed by his power and that in the end the kingdoms of the world would be the kingdoms of the Lord and of his Christ. (3) The creative action belongs to Jesus. The early Church held that the Son had been God’s agent in creation, that in some way God had originally created the world through him. They were filled with the thought that the one who had created the world would also be the one who redeemed it. (4) The sustaining power belongs to Jesus.

  • From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

    (a) It could not be repeated. There is something unrepeatable about any great work. It is possible to repeat the popular tunes of the day endlessly; to a great extent, one echoes another. But it is not possible to repeat the Fifth or the Ninth Symphony of Beethoven; no one else will ever write anything like them. It is possible to repeat the kind of poetry that is written in sentimental magazines and on Christmas cards, but not to repeat the blank verse of Shakespeare’s plays or the poetic metre of Homer’s Iliad. These things stand alone. Certain things can be repeated; but all works of genius have a certain unrepeatable quality. It is so with the sacrifice of Christ. It is unique; it is one of these masterpieces which can never be done again. (b) It need not be repeated. For one thing, the sacrifice of Jesus perfectly shows the love of God. In that life of service and in that death of love, there stands fully displayed the heart of God. Looking at Jesus, we can say: ‘That is what God is like.’ What is more, the life and death of Jesus was an act of perfect obedience and, therefore, the only perfect sacrifice. All Scripture, at its deepest, declares that the only sacrifice God desires is obedience; and, in the life and death of Jesus, that is precisely the sacrifice that God received. Perfection cannot be improved upon. In Jesus, there is at one and the same time the perfect revelation of God and the perfect offering of obedience. Therefore, his sacrifice cannot and need not ever be made again. The priests must go on with their weary routine of animal sacrifice; but the sacrifice of Christ was made once and for all. (2) He stresses the exaltation of Jesus. It is with care that he chooses his words. The priests stand offering sacrifice; Christ sits at the right hand of God. Theirs is the position of a servant; his is the position of a monarch. Jesus is the King who has come home, his task accomplished and his victory won. There is a wholeness about the life of Jesus to which we perhaps ought to give more thought. His life is incomplete without his death; his death is incomplete without his resurrection; his resurrection is incomplete without his return to glory. It is the same Jesus who lived and died and rose again and is at the right hand of God. He is not simply a saint who lived a lovely life, not simply a martyr who died a heroic death, not simply a risen figure who returned to keep company with his friends. He is the Lord of glory. His life is like a panelled tapestry; to look at one panel is to see only a little bit of the story. The tapestry must be looked at as a whole before the full greatness is disclosed. (3) He stresses the final triumph of Jesus.

  • From I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (1969)

    There was no chance that a dentist, especially a Negro dentist, would dare hurt me then. Not with Momma there. The trip was uneventful, except that she put her arm around me, which was very unusual for Momma to do. The dentist showed me the medicine and the needle before he deadened my gums, but if he hadn't I wouldn't have worried. Momma stood right behind him. Her arms were folded and she checked on everything he did. The teeth were extracted and she bought me an ice cream cone from the side window of a drug counter. The trip back to Stamps was quiet, except that I had to spit into a very small empty snuff can which she had gotten for me and it was difficult with the bus humping and jerking on our country roads. At home, I was given a warm salt solution, and when I washed out my mouth I showed Bailey the empty holes, where the clotted blood sat like filling in a pie crust. He said I was quite brave, and that was my cue to reveal our confrontation with the peckerwood dentist and Momma's incredible powers. I had to admit that I didn't hear the conversation, but what else could she have said than what I said she said? What else done? He agreed with my analysis in a lukewarm way and I happily (after all, I'd been sick) flounced into the Store. Momma was preparing our evening meal and Uncle Willie leaned on the door sill. She gave her version. “Dentist Lincoln got right uppity. Said he'd rather put his hand in a dog's mouth. And when I reminded him of the favor, he brushed it off like a piece of lint. Well, I sent Sister downstairs and went inside, I hadn't never been in his office before, but I found the door to where he takes out teeth, and him and the nurse was in there thick as thieves. I just stood there till he caught sight of me.” Crash bang the pots on the stove. “He jumped just like he was sitting on a pin. He said, ‘Annie, I done tole you, I ain't gonna mess around in no niggah's mouth.’ I said, ‘Somebody's got to do it then,’ and he said, ‘Take her to Texarkana to the colored dentist’ and that's when I said, ‘If you paid me my money I could afford to take her.’ He said, ‘It's all been paid.’ I tole him everything but the interest had been paid. He said, ‘ 'Twasn't no interest.’ I said, ‘ 'Tis now. I'll take ten dollars as payment in full.’ You know, Willie, it wasn't no right thing to do, 'cause I lent that money without thinking about it. “He tole that little snippity nurse of his'n to give me ten dollars and make me sign a ‘paid in full’ receipt. She gave it to me and I signed the papers.

  • From Comrade Loves of the Samurai (1972)

    One cold autumn evening he was talking with his friends of his dear incense. Night was drawing on, and a breath of air came suddenly into the room carrying a soft and delicious scent. Neither he nor his friends had ever known so tender a perfume. He ordered one of his attendants to search the palace for its origin; but it could not be found in the palace. Then he sent his favourite, Toshikiyo Tambanokami, to find out where that incense burned, and he immediately set out with his two servants. The scent was very faint, but, when they had crossed the meadows to the bank of the river Kamo, it became stronger. It floated from the other bank of the river, so Toshikiyo crossed by a ford. This was the evening of the sixth of November, and dark, for there was no moon. They crossed the river by the pale light of the stars set high in heaven. On the other bank they found a man seated upon a rock, wearing an old cloak made of Straw and a rush hat. In his sleeves he held a censer. He had an air of peace and serenity. Toshikiyo asked him: 'Dear Stranger, why are you alone in such a place so late at night?' And while he was speaking, he smelt the perfume for which he sought, rising from the Stranger's censer. The other replied: 'I am watching the flight of the river Kamo's singing plovers.' Toshikiyo was impressed by this answer. . To be able to listen to the plovers of the river on so cold and dark a night, the man must be finely cultured and could not be of low class. He said to him more politely: 'Excuse my curiosity, but I come at the command of my master, the Shyôgun Yoshimasa, to seek the man who diffuses so sweet a perfume. Who are you, Stranger?' The man answered: '1 am not a priest who has renounced all worldly matters for the love of Buddha. Neither am I an ordinary man. Behold me rather a traveller, with no place to lay my head. I am more than sixty-six years old, but my feet are Still firm and I can walk freely.' And he arose and Started toward the pines by the water side. It was a plain reply, yet full of mystery. Toshikiyo was even more surprised than before; he held the stranger back and asked him: 'I beg you to tell me the name of the incense you burn. My master Yoshimasa would like to know it.' The man answered: 'Are you then so eager to know a trifle? If your master is thus fond of incense, take him this, although there is not much more of it.' And, giving him the incense and the censer, he went quickly away.

  • From I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (1969)

    takes the human voice to infuse them with the shades of deeper meaning.” I memorized the part about the human voice infusing words. It seemed so valid and poetic. She said she was going to give me some books and that I not only must read them, I must read them aloud. She suggested that I try to make a sentence sound in as many different ways as possible. “I'll accept no excuse if you return a book to me that has been badly handled.” My imagination boggled at the punishment I would deserve if in fact I did abuse a book of Mrs. Flowers'. Death would be too kind and brief. The odors in the house surprised me. Somehow I had never connected Mrs. Flowers with food or eating or any other common experience of common people. There must have been an outhouse, too, but my mind never recorded it. The sweet scent of vanilla had met us as she opened the door. “I made tea cookies this morning. You see, I had planned to invite you for cookies and lemonade so we could have this little chat. The lemonade is in the icebox.” It followed that Mrs. Flowers would have ice on an ordinary day, when most families in our town bought ice late on Saturdays only a few times during the summer to be used in the wooden ice-cream freezers. She took the bags from me and disappeared through the kitchen door. I looked around the room that I had never in my wildest fantasies imagined I would see. Browned photographs leered or threatened from the walls and the white, freshly done curtains pushed against themselves and against the wind. I wanted to gobble up the entire room and take it to Bailey, who would help me analyze and enjoy it. “Have a seat, Marguerite. Over there by the table.” She carried a platter covered with a tea towel. Although she warned that she hadn't tried her hand at baking sweets for some time, I was certain that like everything else about her the cookies would be perfect. They were flat round wafers, slightly browned on the edges and butter-yellow in the center. With the cold lemonade they were sufficient for childhood's lifelong diet. Remembering my manners, I took nice little lady-like bites off the edges. She said she had made them expressly for me and that she had a few in the kitchen that I could take home to my brother. So I jammed one whole cake in my mouth and the rough crumbs scratched the insides of my jaws, and if I hadn't had to swallow, it would have been a dream come true. As I ate she began the first of what we later called “my lessons in living.” She said that I must always be intolerant of ignorance but understanding of illiteracy. That some people, unable to go to school, were more educated and even more intelligent than college professors.

  • From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

    It is a great thing to keep the faith pure; but, when the desire to do so makes us censorious, harsh and unsympathetic, mutual love is destroyed, and we are left with a situation which may be worse than the one we tried to avoid. Somehow or other, we have to combine two things – an earnestness in the faith and a kindness to those who have strayed from it. (2) There is hospitality . The ancient world loved and honoured hospitality. The Jews listed six things which were important both in this life and for the life to come, and the list begins: ‘Hospitality to the stranger and visiting the sick.’ The Greeks gave Zeus, as one of his favourite titles, the title Zeus Xenios , which means Zeus, the god of strangers. The traveller and the stranger were under the protection of the king of the gods. Hospitality, as James Moffatt says, was a very important aspect of ancient religion. Inns were filthy and ruinously expensive, and had a bad reputation. The Greeks always had a dislike of hospitality given for money; innkeeping seemed to them an unnatural business. In The Frogs by Aristophanes, Dionysus asks Heracles, when they are discussing finding a lodging, if he knows where there are fewest fleas. Plato in The Laws speaks of the innkeeper holding travellers to ransom. It is not without significance that Josephus says that Rahab, the prostitute who sheltered Joshua’s scouts in Jericho, kept an inn. When Theophrastus wrote his character sketch of the reckless man, he said that he was fit to keep an inn or run a brothel; he put both occupations on the same level. In the ancient world, there was a rather wonderful system of what were called ‘guest friendships’. Throughout the years, families, even when they had lost active touch with each other, had an arrangement that, whenever it was needed, they would make accommodation available for each other. This hospitality was even more necessary among Christians. Slaves had no home of their own to go to. Wandering preachers and prophets were always on the roads. In the ordinary business of life, Christians had journeys to make. Both their price and their moral atmosphere made the public inns impossible. In those days, there must have been many isolated Christians fighting a lonely battle for the faith. Christianity was, and still should be, the religion of the open door. The writer to the Hebrews says that those who have given hospitality to strangers have sometimes, without knowing it, entertained the angels of God.

  • From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

    Francis is the most unpretentious, gentle, and lovable of all monastic saints.766 Dominic was cold, systematic, austere. Francis is greater than his order, and moves through his personality. Dominic was a master disciplinarian, and has exerted his influence through the rules of his order. Francis has more the elements of a Christian apostle, Dominic of an ecclesiastical statesman. Francis we can only think of as mingling with the people and breathing the free air of the fields; Dominic we think of easily as lingering in courts and serving in the papal household. Francis’ lifework was to save the souls of men; Dominic’s lifework was to increase the power of the Church. The one sought to carry the ministries of the Gospel to the masses; the other to perpetuate the integrity of Catholic doctrine. Francis has been celebrated for the humbleness of his mind and walk; Dominic was called the hammer of the heretics. It is probable that on at least three occasions the two leaders met.767 In 1217 they were both at Rome, and the curia proposed the union of the two brotherhoods in one organization. Dominic asked Francis for his cord, and bound himself with it, saying he desired the two orders to be one. Again, 1218, they met at the Portiuncula, Francis’ beloved church in Assisi, and on the basis of what he saw, Dominic decided to embrace mendicancy, which his order adopted in 1220. Again in 1221 they met at Rome, when Cardinal Ugolino sought to manipulate the orders in the interest of the hierarchy. This Francis resented, but in vain, It was the purpose neither of Francis nor Dominic to reform existing orders, or to revive the rigor of rules half-obeyed. It may be doubted whether Francis, at the outset, had any intention of founding an organization. His object was rather to start a movement to transform the world as with leaven. They both sought to revive Apostolic practice. The Franciscan and Dominican orders differed from the older orders in five important particulars. The first characteristic feature was absolute poverty. Mendicancy was a primal principle of their platforms. The rules of both orders, the Franciscans leading the way, forbade the possession of property. The corporation, as well as the individual monk, was pledged to poverty. The intention of Francis was to prohibit forever the holding of corporate property as well as individual property among his followers.768

  • From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

    He inquired whether Erasmus was still living in Basel, what he was doing, and what the people in Switzerland thought of Martin Luther. The students replied that some lauded him to the skies as a great reformer; others, especially the priests, denounced him as an intolerable heretic. During the conversation two traders came in; one took from his pocket Luther’s sermons on the Gospels and Epistles, and remarked that the writer must be either an angel from heaven or a devil from hell. At dinner Luther gave them a rare feast of reason and flow of soul. The astonished students suspected that the mysterious Knight was Ulrich von Hutten, when Luther, turning to the host, smilingly remarked, "Behold, I have become a nobleman over the night: these Swiss think that I am Hutten; you take me for Luther. The next thing will be that I am Marcolfus." He gave his young friends good advice to study the biblical languages with Melanchthon, paid their bill, offered them first a glass of beer, but substituted for it a glass of wine, since the Swiss were not used to beer, and with a shake of the hand he begged them to remember him to Doctor Jerome Schurf, their countryman, at Wittenberg. When they wished to know the name of the sender of the salutation, he replied, "Simply tell him that he who is coming sends greeting, and he will understand it." When the students a few days afterwards arrived at Wittenberg, and called on Dr. Schurf to deliver the message from "him who is coming," they were agreeably surprised to find Luther there with Melanchthon, Jonas, and Amsdorf. Luther greeted them heartily, and introduced them to Melanchthon, of whom he had spoken at Jena. The same student has left us a description of Luther’s appearance at that time. He was no more the meager, emaciated monk as at the Leipzig disputation three years previously,490 but, as Kessler says, "somewhat stout, yet upright, bending backwards rather than stooping, with a face upturned to heaven, with deep dark eyes and eyebrows, twinkling and sparkling like stars, so that one could hardly look steadily at them."491 These deep, dark eyes, full of strange fire, had struck Cardinal Cajetan at Augsburg, and Cardinal Aleander at Worms, as the eyes of a demon. They made the same impression on John Dantiscus, afterwards bishop of Culm and Ermeland, who on his return from Spain to Poland in 1523 saw Luther in Wittenberg; he reported that his "eyes were sharp, and had a certain terrible coruscation of lightning such as was seen now and then in demoniacs," and adds that, "his features were like his books," and "his speech violent and full of scorn." But friends judged differently.

  • From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

    The Jews had their different God, the Stoics had their feelingless gods, and the Epicureans had their completely detached gods. Into that world of thought came Christianity with its incredible conception of a God who had deliberately undergone every human experience. Plutarch, one of the most religious of the Greeks, declared that it was blasphemous to involve God in the affairs of this world. Christianity depicted God as not so much involved but as identified with the suffering of this world. It is almost impossible for us to realize the revolution that Christianity brought about in the relationship of men and women to God. For century after century, they had been confronted with the idea of the untouchable God; and now they discovered a God who had gone through all that they must go through. (b) That had two results. It gave God the quality of mercy. It is easy to see why. It was because God understands. Some people have lived sheltered lives; they have been protected from the temptations that come to those for whom life is not easy. Some people are placid and find it easy to control their emotions; others have a passionate nature that makes life more dangerous. The person who has lived the sheltered life and who has the more easy-going nature finds it hard to understand why the other person slips up. Such people are faintly disgusted and cannot help condemning what they cannot understand. But God knows. ‘To know all is to forgive all’ – of no one is that truer than of God. Professor John Foster of Glasgow University told how he came into his home in this country one day in the 1930s to find his daughter, who was listening to the radio, in tears. He asked her why and found that the news bulletin had contained the sentence: ‘Japanese tanks entered Canton today.’ Most people would hear that with at the most a faint feeling of regret. Politicians may have heard it with grim foreboding; but to most people it did not make very much difference. Why was John Foster’s daughter in tears? Because she had been born in Canton. To her, Canton meant a home, a nurse, a school, friends. The difference was that she had been there. When you have been there, it makes all the difference. And there is no part of human experience of which God cannot say: ‘I have been there.’ When we have a sad and sorry tale to tell, when life has drenched us with tears, we do not go to a God who is incapable of understanding what has happened; we go to a God who has been there. That is why – if we may put it in this way – God finds it easy to forgive. (c) It makes God able to help.

  • From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

    Mattathias, moved to uncontrollable wrath, seized a sword and killed his faithless countryman and the king’s commissioner with him. The signal for rebellion had been given. Mattathias and his sons and other like-minded people took to the hills; and once again the phrases used to describe their life there were in the mind of the writer to the Hebrews, and he has echoes of them over and over again. ‘Then he [Mattathias] and his sons fled to the hills and left all that they had in the town’ (1 Maccabees 2:28). ‘Judas Maccabaeus, with about nine others, got away to the wilderness and kept himself and his companions alive in the mountains as wild animals do’ (2 Maccabees 5:27). ‘Others, who had assembled in the caves nearby, in order to observe the seventh day secretly, were betrayed … were all burned together’ (2 Maccabees 6:11). ‘They had been wandering in the mountains and caves like wild animals’ (2 Maccabees 10:6). In the end, under Judas Maccabaeus and his brothers, the Jews regained their freedom, the Temple was cleansed and the faith flourished again. In this passage, the writer to the Hebrews has done the same as before. He does not actually mention these things. Far better that his readers should be moved by a phrase here and there to remember them for themselves. In the end, he says something. All these died before the final unfolding of God’s promise and the coming of his Messiah into the world. It was as if God had arranged things in such a way that the full blaze of his glory should not be revealed until we and they could enjoy it together. The writer to the Hebrews is saying: ‘See! the glory of God has come. But see what it cost to make it possible! That is the faith which gave you your religion. What can you do except be true to a heritage like that?’ THE RACE AND THE GOAL Hebrews 12:1–2 Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses enveloping us, let us strip off every weight and let us rid ourselves of the sin which so persistently surrounds us, and let us run with steadfast endurance the course that is marked out for us and, as we do so, let us keep our gaze fixed on Jesus who, in order to win the joy that was set before him, steadfastly endured the cross, thinking nothing of its shame, and has now taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. T HIS is one of the great, moving passages of the New Testament; and in it the writer has given us a near-perfect summary of the Christian life.

  • From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

    The story of Gideon is told in Judges 6–7. With only 300 men, Gideon won a victory over the Ammonites in days when they had terrorized Israel, a victory which went ringing down the centuries. The story of Barak is in Judges 4–5. Under the inspiration of the prophetess Deborah, Barak assembled 10,000 young men and faced the fearful odds of the Canaanites with their 900 chariots of iron to win a quite incredible victory. It was as if a band of almost unarmed infantry had routed a division of tanks. The story of Samson is in Judges 13–16. Always, Samson was fighting alone. In the isolation of his splendid strength, again and again he faced the most amazing odds and emerged triumphant. He was the scourge of the Philistines. The story of Jephthah is in Judges 11–12. Jephthah was an illegitimate son; he was driven into a kind of exile and into the life of an outlaw; but, when the Israelites were living in fear of the Ammonites, the forgotten outlaw was called back and won a tremendous victory, although his vow to God cost him the life of his daughter. There was David, who had once been a shepherd boy and who, to his own and everyone else’s astonishment, was anointed king in preference to all his brothers (1 Samuel 16:1– 13). There was Samuel, born to his mother so late in life (1 Samuel 1), again and again moving alone as the only strong and faithful man of God among an easily frightened, discontented and rebellious people. There were the prophets, one after another bearing a faithful and isolated witness to God. The whole list is made up of individuals who faced incredible odds for God. It cites people who never believed that God was on the side of the big battalions and who were willing to take tremendous and even terrifying risks for him – those who cheerfully and courageously and confidently accepted God-given tasks that, on human terms, were impossible. They were all individuals who were never afraid to stand alone and to face immense odds for the sake of their loyalty to God. The honour roll of history is of people who chose to be in God’s minority rather than with the world’s majority.

  • From Comrade Loves of the Samurai (1972)

    3 He Followed his Friend into the Other World, after Torturing him to Death O N THE SECOND DAY OF THE YEAR THE LORD of the Province Iga dreamed that it snowed, and on the next morning snow began to fall. He said to his attendants: 'It is snowing just as I dreamed last night.' One of the pages, named Sasanosuke Yamawaki, went into another room and brought from it a picture of Fuji Yama by the famous painter Tanyo, and hung it in the recess of the room. The Lord was delighted by this tactful and intelligent action; for to dream that one sees the snow upon Fuji is considered by every superstitious person as a sign of happiness. He compared Sasanosuke's action with that of Seishyônajon, an ancient and famous poetess of the Imperial Court. The Emperor Tjijo had one day asked: 'What will be the appearance of Mount Koro under morning snow?' Then Seishyônajon quickly unrolled the bamboo blind before the north door of the palace. For a great Chinese poet says in one of his poems: You may hear the bells of temple Taiji By raising your head from the pillow, But to see the snows of Mount Koro You must unroll the blind before the door. Sasanosuke had considerable tact and intelligence, and he gave his master great pleasure by imitating this famous lady. From that time he became one of the Lord's favourites. When the Lord departed for Yedo to pay his respects to the Shyôgun, Sasanosuke Stayed in the Province and was free to do as he pleased. One day he went with three other pages to hunt birds in the fields. They walked for a long time without finding even a sparrow for their trouble, and decided to return home. But behind a clump of bamboos there was a hut where the country folk used to shelter their melons from birds and thieves during the summer, and, as the young men passed this, a pheasant flew out from it. With the help of their bamboos the pages caught the bird; and then several more pheasants flew from the hut. The young men were delighted with such a stroke of luck. But one of them was surprised to see so many pheasants, and made his way into the hut. There he saw two men hiding with a big cage full of these birds. He rebuked the men severely.'You are committing a crime against the Lord's law. Do you not know that it is forbidden by edict for a man of the people to catch birds?' While he was questioning the men, one of them escaped, hiding his face with his big rush Straw hat. But the other was seized by the pages and Stood in some danger, for the youths were very angry. But Sasanosuke interceded for the wretched man, saying: 'Perhaps these poor fellows caught the birds for food.

  • From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

    It is a faithful record of Peter’s preaching, which Mark must have heard again and again. It is an historical sermon on the text of Peter when addressing the Roman soldier Cornelius: "God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power: who went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil; for God was with him."957 It omits the history of the infancy, and rushes at once into the public ministry of our Lord, beginning, like Peter, with the baptism of John, and ending with the ascension. It represents Christ in the fulness of his living energy, as the Son of God and the mighty wonder-worker who excited amazement and carried the people irresistibly before him as a spiritual conqueror. This aspect would most impress the martial mind of the Romans, who were born to conquer and to rule. The teacher is lost in the founder of a kingdom. The heroic element prevails over the prophetic. The victory over Satanic powers in the healing of demoniacs is made very prominent. It is the gospel of divine force manifested in Christ. The symbol of the lion is not inappropriate to the Evangelist who describes Jesus as the Lion of the tribe of Judah.958 Mark gives us a Gospel of facts, while Matthew’s is a Gospel of divine oracles. He reports few discourses, but many miracles. He unrolls the short public life of our Lord in a series of brief life-pictures in rapid succession. He takes no time to explain and to reveal the inside. He dwells on the outward aspect of that wonderful personality as it struck the multitude. Compared with Matthew and especially with John, he is superficial, but not on that account incorrect or less useful and necessary. He takes the theocratic view of Christ, like Matthew; while Luke and John take the universal view; but while Matthew for his Jewish readers begins with the descent of Christ from David the King and often directs attention to the fulfilment of prophecy, Mark, writing for Gentiles, begins with "the Son of God" in his independent personality.959 He rarely quotes prophecy; but, on the other hand, he translates for his Roman readers Aramaic words and Jewish customs and opinions.960 He exhibits the Son of God in his mighty power and expects the reader to submit to his authority. Two miracles are peculiar to him, the healing of the deaf and dumb man in Decapolis, which astonished the people "beyond measure" and made them exclaim: "He hath done all things well: he maketh even the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak" (Mark 7:31–37). The other miracle is a remarkable specimen of a gradual cure, the healing of the blind man at Bethsaida, who upon the first touch of Christ saw the men around him walking, but indistinctly as trees, and then after the second laying on of hands upon his eyes "saw all things clearly" (8:22–26).

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