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Awe

Awe is the body's response to scale it cannot match. The breath stops for a fraction of a second; the eye widens; the sense of self briefly thins so that something larger can occupy the same room. Vela reads awe through the writers and traditions that have refused to make it small — that have kept awe as the encounter with the genuinely outsized rather than as a synonym for liking something a lot.

Working definition · The widening that opens before something vast or beyond the usual scale—wonder mixed with humility.

4329 passages · 9 Vela essays · in 1 cluster

Vela’s read on this emotion

Awe is one of the emotions most actively diluted in contemporary usage. *Awesome* is now an adjective for a sandwich. The reading attends to a more specific register: awe as the response to scale — natural, mortal, divine, historical — that the self cannot domesticate.

The contemplative tradition is the deepest reservoir for awe. The Hebrew word *yir'ah* — translated variably as *fear*, *awe*, *reverence* — names the response to the divine that older translations have struggled to carry into English. The Book of Job, the Psalms of creation, the prophets at the moment of vocation each preserve awe as a primary religious experience. The Sufi tradition — Rumi, Hafiz, the Persian mystical poets — reads awe as the soul's recognition of the Beloved. The Buddhist contemplative literature names a parallel register inside silence rather than presence. Augustine of Hippo writes *trembling awe* — *amor et timor* — as the structure of devotion in the *Confessions*.

The modern reading runs through the writers who have refused to flatten the natural sublime. The Romantic tradition — Wordsworth at Tintern Abbey, the Hudson River school painters, John Muir in the Sierra Nevada — treats awe before mountains, rivers, and storms as a serious cognitive event. The literature of exploration — Robert Kurson's *Rocket Men* on the Apollo 8 crew seeing Earth from the moon, the Antarctic memoirs, the deep-ocean accounts — preserves awe at the scale of what humans can encounter when they leave the human-scaled world. Joy Harjo's *Crazy Brave* reads awe inside the Indigenous spiritual register that the colonial inheritance has tried to refuse.

Awe is not the same as wonder, admiration, fear, or gratitude. Wonder is awe's curious cousin — interested rather than overcome. Admiration is steadied seeing; awe is the witness flooded. Fear shares awe's somatic shape — the breath catch, the still body — but the object is threatening rather than vast. Gratitude can shade into awe when the gift exceeds what can be acknowledged. The four are kin; the reading keeps them distinct because the writers who have been most honest about each have kept them separate.

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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4329 tagged passages

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    Further. Everything exists through having existence. Therefore nothing the essence of which is not its existence, exists by its essence, but by participation of something, namely existence. Now that which exists by participation of something cannot be the first being, because that in which a thing participates in order to exist, is previous to that thing. But God is the first being, to which nothing is previous. Therefore God’s essence is His existence. This sublime truth Moses was taught by the Lord: for when he asked the Lord (Exod. 3:13, 14): If the children of Israel should say to me: What is His name? what shall I say to them? the Lord answered: I AM WHO AM.… Thus shalt thou say to the children of Israel: HE WHO IS hath sent me to you; thus declaring His own name to be: HE WHO IS. Now every name is appointed to signify the nature or essence of a thing. Wherefore it follows that God’s very existence itself is His essence or nature. Moreover. The Catholic doctors have professed this truth. For Hilary says (De Trin.): Existence is not an accident in God, but the subsisting truth, the abiding cause, and the natural property of His essence. And Boethius says (De Trin.) that the divine substance is existence itself, and all other existence proceeds therefrom. CHAPTER XXIII THAT THERE IS NO ACCIDENT IN GODFROM this truth it follows of necessity that nothing can accrue to God besides His essence, nor anything be accidentally in Him. For existence itself cannot participate in something that is not of its essence; although that which exists can participate in something else. Because nothing is more formal or more simple than existence. Hence existence itself can participate in nothing. Now the divine substance is existence itself. Therefore He has nothing that is not of His substance. Therefore no accident can be in Him.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    JEROME. (cont. Helvid.) From this Helvidiusd strives to prove that no one can be called firstborn who has not brothers, as he is called only-begotten who is the only son of his parents. But we thus determine the matter. Every only-begotten is firstborn, not every firstborn is only-begotten. We say not that he is first-begotten whom others follow, but before whom there is no one; (otherwise, supposing there is no firstborn but who has brothers following him, there are then no firstlings due to the priests as long as there are no others begotten;) lest perchance when no birth follows afterward, there should be an only-begotten and not a firstborn. BEDE. He is also only-begotten in the substance of His divinity, firstborn in the taking upon Himself humanity, firstborn in grace, only-begotten in nature. JEROME. (ubi sup.) Now here was no midwife, no tender anxiety of women; she wrapped the Child up in swaddling clothes, herself both mother and midwife. BEDE. He who clothes the whole world with its varied beauty, is wrapped up in common linen, that we might be able to receive the best robe; He by Whom all things are made, is folded both hands and feet, that our hands might be raised up for every good work, and our feet directed in the way of peace. GREEK EXPOSITOR. (Metaphrastes) Oh the wonderful straitening and banishment which He underwent, Who holds the whole world in His hands! From the very beginning He seeks for poverty, and ennobles it in His own person. CHRYSOSTOM. (non occ.) Surely if He had so willed it, He might have come moving the heavens, making the earth to shake, and shooting forth His thunderbolts; but such was not the way of His going forth; His desire was not to destroy, but to save; and to trample upon human pride from its very birth, therefore He is not only man, but a poor man, and has chosen a poor mother, who had not even a cradle where she might lay her new born Child; as it follows, and she laid him in the manger. BEDE. He is confined in the narrow space of a rude manger, whose seat is the heavens, that He may give us ample room in the joys of His heavenly kingdom. He Who is the bread of Angels is laid down in a manger, that He might feast us, as it were the sacred animals, with the bread of His flesh. CYRIL OF ALEXANDRIA. He finds man in his corrupt affections become like the beasts that perish, and therefore He is laid in the manger, in the place of food, that we changing the life of beasts, might be brought to the knowledge that befits man, partaking not of hay, but of the heavenly bread, the lifegiving body.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    GREGORY. (18 Moral. c. 52. super Job 28:19.) To distinguish His holiness from ours, Jesus is stated in an especial manner to be born holy. For we although indeed made holy, are not born so, for we are constrained by the very condition of our corruptible nature to cry out with the Prophet, Behold, I was conceived in iniquity. (Ps. 51:5.) But He alone is in truth holy, who was not conceived by the cementing of a fleshly union, nor as the heretics rave, one person in His human nature, another in His divine; not conceived and brought forth a mere man, and afterwards by his merits, obtained that He should be God, but the Angel announcing and the Spirit coming, first the Word in the womb, afterwards within the womb the Word made flesh. Whence it follows, Shall be called the Son of God. GREEK EXPOSITOR. (Victor Presbyter.) But observe, how the Angel has declared the whole Trinity to the Virgin, making mention of the Holy Spirit, the Power, and the Most High, for the Trinity is indivisible.c 1:36–3836. And, behold, thy cousin Elisabeth, she hath also conceived a son in her old age: and this is the sixth month with her, who was called barren. 37. For with God nothing shall be impossible. 38. And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word. And the angel departed from her. CHRYSOSTOM. (49 in Gen.) Seeing that his previous words had overcome the mind of the virgin, the angel drops his discourse to a humbler subject, persuading her by reference to sensible things. Hence he says, And, behold, Elisabeth thy cousin, &c. Mark the discretion of Gabriel; he did not remind her of Sarah, or Rebecca, or Rachel, because they were examples of ancient times, but he brings forward a recent event, that he might the more forcibly strike her mind. For this reason also he noticed the age, saying, She also hath conceived a son in her old age; and the natural infirmity also. As it follows, And this is the sixth month with her who was called barren. For not immediately at the beginning of Elisabeth’s conception did he make this announcement, but after the space of six months, that the swelling of her womb might confirm its truth.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    AMBROSE. And can you wonder if He who is subject to His mother, also submits to His Father? Surely that subjection is a mark not of weakness but of filial duty. Let then the heretic so raise his head as to assert that He who is sent has need of other help; yet why should He need human help, in obeying His mother’s authority? He was obedient to a handmaid, He was obedient to His pretended father, and do you wonder whether He obeyed God? Or is it a mark of duty to obey man, of weakness to obey God? BEDE. The Virgin, whether she understood or whether she could not yet understand, equally laid up all things in her heart for reflection and diligent examination. Hence it follows, And his mother laid up all these things, &c. Mark the wisest of mothers, Mary the mother of true wisdom, becomes the scholar or disciple of the Child. For she yielded to Him not as to a boy, nor as to a man, but as unto God. Further, she pondered upon both His divine words and works, so that nothing that was said or done by Him was lost upon her, but as the Word itself was before in her womb, so now she conceived the ways and words of the same, and in a manner nursed them in her heart. And while indeed she thought upon one thing at the time, another she wanted to be more clearly revealed to her; and this was her constant rule and law through her whole life. It follows, And Jesus increased in wisdom. THEOPHYLACT. Not that He became wise by making progress, but that by degrees He revealed His wisdom. As it was when He disputed with the Scribes, asking them questions of their law to the astonishment of all who heard Him. You see then how He increased in wisdom, in that He became known to many, and caused them to wonder, for the shewing forth of His wisdom is His increase. But mark how the Evangelist, having interpreted what it is to increase in wisdom, adds, and in stature, declaring thereby that an increase or growth in age is an increase in wisdom.

  • From Collected Essays (1998)

    He was then , and is now, working all the time, or perhaps it \\'ould be more accurate to say that he is seeing all the time; and the reality of his seeing caused me to begin to see. Now, what I began to see was not, at that time, to tell the truth, his painting; that came later; what I saw, first of all, was a brown leaf on black asphalt, oil moving like mercury in the black water of the gutter, grass pushing itself up through a crevice in the sidewalk. And because I was seeing it with Beauford, because Beauford caused me to see it, the very col ours underwent a most disturbing and salutary change. The brown leaf on the black asphalt, fi>r example -what colours were these, really? To stare at the leaf long enough, to try to apprehend the leaf , was to discover many colours in it; and though black had been described to me as the absence of light, it became very clear to me that if this were true, we would never have been able to see the colour; black: the light is trapped in it and struggles upward, rather like that grass pushing upward through the cement. It was humbling to be forced to realise that the light fell down from heaven, on everything, on everybody, and that the light was always chang ing. Paradoxically, this meant for me that memory is a traitor and that lif e docs not contain the past tense: the sunset one saw yesterday, the leaf that burned, or the rain that fell, have not really been seen unless one is prepared to see them every day. As Bcauf(Jrd is, to his eternal credit, and for our health and hope. Perhaps I am so struck by the light in Beauford's paintings because he comes from darkness-as I do, as, in fact, we all do. But the darkness of Bcauf(>rd's beginnings, in Tennessee, many years ago, was a black-blue midnight indeed, opaque, and full of sorrow. And I do not know, nor will any of us ever really know, what kind of strength it was that enabled him to make so dogged and splendid a journey. In any case, from 720 ON THE PAINTER BE AUFORD DEL AN EY 721 Tennessee, he eventually came to Paris (I have the impression that he walked and swam) and for a while lived in a suburb of Paris, Clamart.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    Accordingly the higher intelligences receive their perfection from a higher source of knowledge. Now in every disposition of providence, the order of effects is derived from the form of agents: since the effect must needs proceed from its cause in some kind of likeness. Now it is for the sake of an end that the cause communicates the likeness of its form to the effect. Hence the first principle in the dispositions of providence is the end; the second is the form of the agent; the third is the appointment of the order of effects. Consequently in the order of the intellect the highest degree is the consideration of the idea of order, in the end; the second degree is the same consideration, in the form; while the third is the knowledge of the disposition of order in itself and not in a higher principle. Wherefore the art which considers the end governs the art which considers the form, as the art of sailing governs the art of shipbuilding. And the art which considers the form governs the art which considers only the order of movements which prepare the way for the form, as the art of shipbuilding governs the handiwork of the builders. Accordingly there is a certain order among the intelligences who take from God Himself immediate and perfect cognizance of the order of divine providence. The first and highest perceive the ordered scheme of providence in the last end itself which is the divine goodness, some of them, however, clearer than others; and these are called Seraphim, i.e. fiery or setting on fire, because fire is used to designate intensity of love or desire, which are about the end. Hence Dionysius says that this name indicates both their fervent and quivering activity towards God, and their leading lower things to God as their end. The second place belongs to those who acquire perfect knowledge of the scheme of providence in the divine form: and these are called Cherubim which signifies fulness of knowledge: for knowledge is made complete through the form of the thing known. Wherefore Dionysius says that their name indicates that they contemplate the highest operative power of the divine beauty. The third grade is of those who contemplate the disposition of divine judgements in itself: and they are called Thrones: because the throne is significative of judicial power, according to Ps. 9:5: Thou hast sat on the throne, who judgest justice. Hence Dionysius says that this name signifies that they are God-bearers and adapted for the obedient fulfilment of all divine undertakings. What has been said must however be understood, not as though the divine goodness, essence, and knowledge of the disposition of things were three distinct things, but in the sense that according to what we have been saying we may look at the matter in question from different points of view.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    GREGORY. (Hom. 7. in Evan.) But John denounces himself as unworthy to loose the latchet of Christ’s shoes: as if he openly said, I am not able to disclose the footsteps of my Redeemer, who do not presume unworthily to take unto myself the name of bridegroom, for it was an ancient custom thata when a man refused to take to wife her whom he ought, whoever should come to her betrothed by right of kin, was to loose his shoe. Or because shoes are made from the skins of dead animals, our Lord being made flesh appeared as it were with shoes, as taking upon Himself the carcase of our corruption. The latchet of the shoe is the connexion of the mystery. John therefore can not loose the latchet of the shoe, because neither is he able to fathom the mystery of the Incarnation, though he acknowledged it by the Spirit of prophecy. CHRYSOSTOM. (ubi sup.) And having said that his own baptism was only with water, he next shews the excellence of that baptism which was brought by Christ, adding, He shall baptize you with the Holy Spirit, and fire, signifying by the very metaphor which he uses the abundance of grace. For he says not, “He shall give you the Holy Spirit,” but He shall baptize you. And again, by the addition of fire, he shews the power of grace. And as Christ calls the grace of the Spirit, water, (John 4:14; 7:38.) meaning by water the purity resulting from it, and the abundant consolation which is brought to minds which are capable of receiving Him; so also John, by the word fire, expresses the fervour and uprightness of grace, as well as the consuming of sins. BEDE. The Holy Spirit also may be understood by the word fire, for He kindles with love and enlightens with wisdom the hearts which He fills. Hence also the Apostles received the baptism of the Spirit in the appearance of fire. There are some who explain it, that now we are baptized with the Spirit, hereafter we shall be with fire, that as in truth we are now born again to the remission of our sins by water and the Spirit, so then we shall be cleansed from certain lighter sins by the baptism of purifying fire. ORIGEN. And as John was waiting by the river Jordan for those who came to his baptism, and some he drove away, saying, Generation of vipers, but those who confessed their sins he received, so shall the Lord Jesus stand in the fiery stream with the flaming sword, that whoever after the close of this life desires to pass over to Paradise and needs purification, He may baptize him with this laver, and pass him over to paradise, but whoso has not the seal of the former baptisms, him He shall not baptize with the laver of fire.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    31. Hence, according, to Simonides, “ Only God has this honor, ” I and it is unfitting that a man should not seek a knowledge which befits him. Some poets accordingly say that the deity is naturally envious; and it is most likely that it should happen in this case, and that all those who are imperfect are unfortunate. But it is not fitting that the deity should be envious, for as the proverb says: “ The poets tell many lies. ” 32. Nor must we think that any other science is more honorable than this. For what is most divine is most honorable. But then it alone will be such, and in two ways. For of all knowledge that which God most properly has is divine; and if there is any such knowledge, it is concerned with divine matters. But this science alone has both of these characteristics; for God seems to be a cause and in some sense a principle according to all men; and such [knowledge as this] God either alone has, or has in the highest degree. Therefore, all the other sciences are more necessary, but none is more excellent. 33. But it is necessary in a sense to bring to a halt the progression of this science at the contrary of our original questions. Indeed, as we have said, all men begin by wondering whether things are as strange as chance occurrences appear to those who do not yet know the cause; or by wondering about the changes in the course of the sun, or about the incommensurability of the diagonal [of a square]. For it would seem an object of wonder to all it something having the nature of number were immeasurable. But it is necessary to advance to the contrary view and, as the proverb says, the worthier one, as also happens in a sense in these matters when men have learned them. For nothing would surprise a geometrician more than if the diagonal [of a square] should become commensurable [with a side]. It has been stated, then, what the nature is of the science which we are seeking, and what its goal is for which our search and whole method must be undertaken. COMMENTARY WHY THIS SCIENCE IS CALLED SPECULATIVE53. First, he gives this argument. No science in which knowledge itself is sought for its own sake is a practical science, but a speculative one. Bot that science which is wisdom, or philosophy as it is called, exists for the sake of knowledge itself. Hence it is speculative and not practical. He proves the minor premise in this way. Whoever seeks as an end to escape from ignorance tends toward knowledge for itself. But those who philosophize seek as an end to escape from ignorance. Therefore they tend towards knowledge for itself.

  • From What Belongs to You (2016)

    As I walked along that path, I felt drawn from myself, elated, struck stupidly good for a moment by the extravagant beauty of the world. The air was thick with movement, butterflies and day moths and also, hanging iridescent in the sun, tiny ephemerae shining and embalmed, pushed helplessly here and there by the light breeze. The grasses and trees were releasing in a great exhalation pods of seeds, the tiny grains each sheltered and propelled by a tuft of hair like a parachute or umbrella. I thought, as I watched this sowing of the earth, of Whitman, whose poems I had just taught to the students who were listening now to their lectures on mathematical linguistics, which they would recount to me over dinner in the town, telling me how they imagined my reactions to the arguments made about poetry and the structures of meter and rhyme, their numerical claims on our pleasure. There were lines in Whitman’s poems that had always struck me as exaggerated in their enthusiasm, their unhinged eroticism; they embarrassed me a little, though my students loved them, greeting them each year with laughter. It was these lines that came to me as I stood on that path in Blagoevgrad, watching seeds come down like snow, that defined and enriched that moment. What were those seeds if not the wind’s soft-tickling genitals, the world’s procreant urge, and I realized I had always read them poorly, the lines I had failed to understand; they weren’t exaggerated at all, they were exact, and for a moment I understood his desire to be naked before the world, his madness, as he says, to be in contact with it. I even felt something of that desire myself, though it was nothing like madness for me, in my life lived almost always beneath the pitch of poetry, a life of inhibition and missed chances, perhaps, but also a bearable life, a life that to some extent I had chosen and continued to choose. I crossed a small wooden footbridge, stopping briefly to peer at the churning waters and feel their vibration in the structure that held me above them, and found a small café nestled in a bend in the river, on a plot of land the waters had spared. The café was little more than a shack, but clean and well kept; beside it picnic tables were arranged haphazardly by the water. Many of these were taken already, and I had to sit some distance from the river, though I could still hear the water, a sound that has soothed me ever since I was a child. I sipped my cup of coffee and warm milk, looking at the other tables, which were overrun by large, festive groups, and I remembered there was a holiday of some sort that weekend, there are too many here to keep track.

  • From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

    It was Billy Budd, an opera I recalled as a gauche, almost amateur affair, and I had not in the least expected to enjoy it; and yet, when Captain Vere’s monologue ended and the scene on board the Indomitable opened up, with the men holy-stoning the deck and singing their oppressed, surging chorus, I was covered in goose-flesh. When Billy, press-ganged from his old ship, sang his farewell to his former life and comrades—‘Farewell, old Rights o’ Man, farewell’—the tears streamed down my face. The young baritone, singing with the greatest beauty and freshness, brought an extraordinary quality of resisted pathos to Billy; in the stammering music his physiognomy, handsome and forthright and yet with a curious fleshy debility about the mouth, made me believe it as his own tragedy. None of this should have surprised me. I had not heard any music for a few days, and I was all charged up, glowing and gratified, so that my sense of everything was heightened. I felt every phrase of the music in a physical way, as if I had turned into a little orchestra myself. In the interval we had champagne, though James would only take a drop, saying it would give him a headache. He was prone to bad headaches, often of a nervous kind (for instance, when he had a clear weekend after being on call for two or three weeks he would spend it supine in a darkened room, a hand pressed to his brow). The heat and intensity of a theatre always brought on a bit of a head for him too. I think he concentrated exceptionally hard—at a concert he would either follow the score or his knuckles would be white with tension—whereas I, though I was gripped and appalled by the opera, blubbing again at the despair of the poor little Novice, his body and spirit broken by his flogging, had also had periods of several minutes’ duration when I had paid no attention at all, thinking about Phil, and sex, and what I was going to do later. My grandfather looked at me apprehensively. ‘Are you enjoying it, darling?’ he asked. ‘I think it’s wonderful,’ I said. ‘It’s a funny old production, but there’s something quite touching about that.’ ‘Mm—I agree. Quite unchanged since the very first performance, of course. It’s a museum piece, still being used after thirty years. We had a lot of talk about a new production, but we felt the loot could be better spent on something else.’ ‘Yes.’ I was on for more champagne already. ‘What do you think, James?’ ‘Oh, I’m enjoying it,’ James said, with an emphasis that suggested reservations. His eyes were darkly rimmed, he looked sallow with lack of sleep, and I wondered what it would be like to come to the crowded unreality of a theatre after a day’s long concentration on illness and misery. ‘I don’t know if it’s a piece you especially care for.’

  • From The Spiral Staircase: My Climb Out of Darkness (2004)

    The Dome of the Rock, I was told, was the first major building to be constructed in the Muslim world. Here was another faith that, in its earliest days, had been proud to declare to the world that it was firmly rooted in Judaism. Ahmed and his family took me up to the Dome one Saturday, and I stared at the rock from which the prophet Muhammad was said to have ascended to heaven. It was also the rock on which the prophet Abraham had offered his son to God, Ahmed explained. Again, I felt ashamed of my ignorance. I knew nothing— nothing at all— about any of these traditions. I had had no idea that Muslims venerated Abraham, but now Ahmed told me that the Koran revered all the great prophets of the past, even Jesus. And when we visited the Mosque of al-Aqsa at the southern end of Herod’s huge platform, I felt immediately at home. There were light, space, and silence. A bird flew in from outside: the mosque seemed to be inviting the world to enter, instead of shutting the profane world out. I watched Muslims sitting on the floor, studying the Koran— looking remarkably like the Jews studying Torah in the yeshiva as their lips mouthed the sacred language. This, I realized, was a form of communion. By repeating words that God had in some sense spoken to Muhammad, Muslims were taking the Word of God into their very being. By doing what God had somehow done, they were symbolically positioning themselves in the place where God was. My project, of course, demanded that I concentrate on Judaism and Christianity. I had no brief as yet to study Islam, but I found that in Jerusalem it was impossible to ignore this third member of the Abrahamic family. On my very first morning, I had been torn violently from sleep at dawn by the ear- splitting call to prayer, which exploded at dawn from the minaret beside the American Colony Hotel. I had sprung up in bed, dry mouthed, with my heart beating wildly. Islam had erupted into my world as a reality that was raw, alien, shocking, intrusive, and wholly unexpected. But after that first morning, the muezzin never woke me again, though the dawn call was still issued at exactly the same number of decibels. I had somehow managed to absorb and accommodate it. Indeed, I soon learned to love the strange Arabic chant as it echoed through the streets of Jerusalem and filled the valleys and hills around the Old City. The call to prayer was a constant reminder that whether Christians or Jews liked it or not, Islam was a part of their story too. Perhaps we were talking about a tradition that had gone not in two directions but in three.

  • From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

    I had not known that there was such a place as this, at all - this place that was so squalid and so splendid, so ugly and so grand, where every imaginable manner of person stood, or strolled, or lounged, side by side.There were ladies and gentlemen, stepping from carriages.There were girls with trays of flowers and fruit; and coffee-sellers, and sherbet-sellers, and soup-men.There were soldiers in scarlet jackets; there were off-duty shop-boys in bowlers and boaters and checks. There were women in shawls, and women in neck-ties; and women in short skirts, showing their ankles.There were black men, and Chinamen, and Italians and Greeks. There were newcomers to the city, gazing about them as dazed and confounded as I; and there were people curled on steps and benches, people in clothes that were crumpled or stained, who looked as if they spent all their daylit hours here - and all their dark ones, too.I gazed at Kitty, and my face, I suppose, showed my amazement, for she laughed, and stroked my cheek, then seized my hand and held it.‘We are at the heart of London,’ said Mr Bliss as she did so, ‘the very heart of it. Over there’ - he nodded to the Alhambra - ‘and all around us’ - and here he swept his hand across the square itself - ‘you see what makes that great heart beat: Variety! Variety, Miss Astley, which age cannot wither, nor custom stale.’ Now he turned to Kitty. ‘We stand,’ he said, ‘before the greatest Temple of Variety in all the land. Tomorrow, Miss Butler - tomorrow, or next week, or next month, perhaps, but soon, soon, I promise you - you will stand within it, your feet upon its stage. Then it will be you that sets the heart of London racing! You that makes the throats of the city shout, “Brava!”’As he spoke he lifted his hat, and punched the air with it; one or two passers-by turned their faces towards us, then looked away quite unconcerned. His words, I thought, were marvellous ones - and I knew Kitty thought so, too, for she gripped my hand at the sound of them, and gave a little shudder of delight; and her cheeks were flushed, as mine were, and her eyes, like mine, were shining and wide.We didn’t linger very long in Leicester Square after that. Mr Bliss hailed a boy, and gave him a shilling to fetch us three foaming glasses from the sherbet-seller, and we sat for a minute in Shakespeare’s shadow, sipping our drinks and gazing at the people who passed us by, and at the notices outside the Empire, where Kitty’s name, we knew, would soon be pasted in letters three feet high. But when our glasses were empty, he slapped his hands together and said we must be off, for Brixton and Mrs Dendy - our new landlady - awaited; and he led us back to the brougham and handed us to our seats.

  • From Simply Jesus (2011)

    He therefore invoked the language of the book of Daniel—against the very city and Temple for which Daniel had been so concerned. The “abomination that desolates” would stand in the Temple (Dan. 9:27; Matt. 24:15) not as a prelude to the Temple being rescued, but rather as a prelude to the tumultuous event that would be like the fall of Babylon itself, an event for which the only appropriate language would be the darkening of sun and moon and the falling of the stars (Matt. 24:29; Isa. 13:10). And in that terrible event, Jesus wanted his followers to see the sign of his own vindication. No longer would the Temple in Jerusalem be the place where heaven and earth met. From now on, heaven and earth would meet in the person and through the achievement of the “one like a son of man,” who after his suffering would be vindicated, who would be “coming on the clouds of heaven” to be seated beside “the Ancient One” (Matt. 24:30, quoting Dan. 7:13). The greatest empires of the world would do their worst, and Israel’s representative would be enthroned as their Lord, establishing a kingdom that could never be shaken. To say that this was not what anyone else in Israel at the time had imagined, let alone dreamed of or prayed for, was putting it mildly. The disciples themselves must have been shocked and dismayed. But this vision of judgment is not an extra bit of teaching tacked onto the end of a public career that was in all other respects about something else. The note of warning had been there throughout, from the Sermon on the Mount (think of the foolish man building his house on the sand!), to the Nazareth Manifesto (think of God’s blessing bypassing God’s people and going out to the foreigners!), to the solemn warnings in Luke 13, following reports of Jews being killed by Roman soldiers and by a falling tower in the southeast corner of Jerusalem, to repent or to perish in the same way. No wonder people thought Jesus was like Jeremiah, always warning that the enemy would come and destroy, and that when that happened it would be God’s own wrath rather than simply a ghastly accident. Then comes the twist. Jesus was not simply announcing God’s judgment on his rebel people, warning like Jeremiah that Israel and its leaders had so badly misread God’s vocation that they were now rushing down a steep slope to destruction. Jesus was speaking and acting in such a way as to imply that he was to go ahead of his people, to meet the powers of destruction in person, to take their full weight on himself, so as to make a way through, a way in which God’s people could be renewed, could rediscover their vocation to be a light to the nations, could be rescued from their continuing slavery and exile.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    MAXIMUS. (in Serm. Nativ. 4.) But if perhaps the swaddling clothes are mean in thy eyes, admire the Angels singing praises together. If thou despisest the manger, raise thy eyes a little, and behold the new star in heaven proclaiming to the world the Lord’s nativity. If thou believest the mean things, believe also the mighty. If thou disputest about those which betoken His lowliness, look with reverence on what is high and heavenly. GREGORY. (ubi sup.) It was in a mystery that the Angel appeared to the shepherds while they were watching, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, implying that they are thought worthy above the rest to see sublime things who take a watchful care of their faithful flocks; and while they themselves are piously watching over them, the Divine grace shines widely round about them. BEDE. (Home. ubi sup.) For in a mystery, those shepherds, and their flocks, signify all teachers and guides of faithful souls. The night in which they were keeping watch over their flocks, indicates the dangerous temptations from which they never cease to keep themselves, and those placed under their care. Well also at the birth of our Lord do shepherds watch over their flocks; for He was born who says, I am the good Shepherd: (John 10:11, 16.) but the time also was at hand in which the same Shepherd was to recal His scattered sheep to the pastures of life. ORIGEN. But if we would rise to a more hidden meaning, I should say, that there were certain shepherd angels, who direct the affairs of men, and while each one of them was keeping his watch, an angel came at the birth of the Lord, and announced to the shepherds that the true Shepherd had arisen. For Angels before the coming of the Saviour could bring little help to those entrusted to them, for scarcely did one single Gentile believe in God. But now whole nations come to the faith of Jesus. 2:13–1413. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 14. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    54. That they seek to escape from ignorance is made clear from the fact that those who first philosophized and who now philosophize did so from wonder about some cause, although they did this at first differently than now. For at first they wondered about less important problems, which were more obvious, in order that they might know their cause; but later on, progressing little by little from the knowledge of more evident matters to the investigation of obscure ones, they began to raise questions about more important and hidden matters, such as the changes undergone by the moon, namely, its eclipse, and its change of shape, which seems to vary inasmuch as it stands in different relations to the sun. And similarly they raised questions about the phenomena of the sun, such as its eclipse, its movement and size; and about the phenomena of the stars, such as their size, arrangement, and so forth; and about the origin of the whole universe, which some said was produced by chance, others by an intelligence, and others by love. 55. Further, he points out that perplexity and wonder arise from ignorance. For when we see certain obvious effects whose cause we do not know, we wonder about their cause. And since wonder was the motive which led men to philosophy, it is evident that the philosopher is, in a sense, a philo-myth, i.e., a lover of myth, as is characteristic of the poets. Hence the first men to deal with the principles of things in a mythical way, such as Perseus and certain others who were the seven sages, were called the theologizing poets. Now the reason why the philosopher is compared to the poet is that both are concerned with wonders. For the myths with which the poets deal are composed of wonders, and the philosophers themselves were moved to philosophize as a result of wonder. And since wonder stems from ignorance, they were obviously moved to philosophize in order to escape from ignorance. It is accordingly evident from this that “ they pursued ” knowledge, or diligently sought it, only for itself and not for any utility or usefulness.

  • From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

    The ring was raised in the middle of the room, which still had its galleries on three sides, supported on thick wooden pillars. Seating rose in scaffolded tiers around the ring, leaving a kind of ambulatory under the galleries, through which I could walk almost unnoticed. Up above, too, the place was packed, and I hoped I would be allowed to drift around rather than getting penned in a seat for the evening. I loitered in one of the aisles, leaning against the stepped edge of the temporary arena. The man whose feet were by my elbow leant over and said, ‘You want a seat?’—making accommodating gestures and showing how he and his party could squeeze up. But I declined. The dinner-jacketed M C completed his announcement and stepped down, a balloon-bellied referee in white shirt and trousers that lacked any visible means of support squeezed between the ropes, and a few moments later the first couple of lads sprang into the ring. There’s something about boxing which always moves me, although I know it is the lowest of sports, degrading the spectator as much as the fighter. For all its brutality, and the danger of those blows to the head, those upward twisting punches that are so tellingly called cuts and which tear the fronds of the brain known as the substantia nigra, an inner damage more terrible than that of pouchy, sewn-up eyes, mangled ears and flattened noses, it has about it a quality that I would not be the first to call noble. Boys’ boxing, of course, is not nearly so awful. The bouts are short, the refereeing paternal and attentive. Any moderately heavy punch is followed by a standing count, and fights are swiftly brought to an end if there are signs of stunning or bleeding. It maintains too, in some ideal, Greek way, an ethos of sport rather than violence. In the hall tonight the Limehouse supporters far outnumbered the St Albans visitors—and the place was small enough for individual voices shouting their encouragement to be heard, just as they might have been decades before in hymns or prayers in the same building. But when the fights were over, and the referee held the boys’ huge gloved hands in his smaller fingers, jerking aloft the winner’s arm as the result was announced, there was a touching mood of friendship, the boys embracing, patting each other clumsily with their upholstered fists, clasping the hands of the cutmen and the trainers in their gentle paws.

  • From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

    I sat down, completely stunned. Henry’s voice was filled with desire. I experienced his song as a precious gift. I had come into the prison with such anxiety and fear about his willingness to tolerate my inadequacy. I didn’t expect him to be compassionate or generous. I had no right to expect anything from a condemned man on death row. Yet he gave me an astonishing measure of his humanity. In that moment, Henry altered something in my understanding of human potential, redemption, and hopefulness. I finished my internship committed to helping the death row prisoners I had met that month. Proximity to the condemned and incarcerated made the question of each person’s humanity more urgent and meaningful, including my own. I went back to law school with an intense desire to understand the laws and doctrines that sanctioned the death penalty and extreme punishments. I piled up courses on constitutional law, litigation, appellate procedure, federal courts, and collateral remedies. I did extra work to broaden my understanding of how constitutional theory shapes criminal procedure. I plunged deeply into the law and the sociology of race, poverty, and power. Law school had seemed abstract and disconnected before, but after meeting the desperate and imprisoned, it all became relevant and critically important. Even my studies at the Kennedy School took on a new significance. Developing the skills to quantify and deconstruct the discrimination and inequality I saw became urgent and meaningful. My short time on death row revealed that there was something missing in the way we treat people in our judicial system, that maybe we judge some people unfairly. The more I reflected on the experience, the more I recognized that I had been struggling my whole life with the question of how and why people are judged unfairly. — I grew up in a poor, rural, racially segregated settlement on the eastern shore of the Delmarva Peninsula, in Delaware, where the racial history of this country casts a long shadow. The coastal communities that stretched from Virginia and eastern Maryland to lower Delaware were unapologetically Southern. Many people in the region insisted on a racialized hierarchy that required symbols, markers, and constant reinforcement, in part because of the area’s proximity to the North. Confederate flags were proudly displayed throughout the region, boldly and defiantly marking the cultural, social, and political landscape. African Americans lived in racially segregated ghettos isolated by railroad tracks within small towns or in “colored sections” in the country. I grew up in a country settlement where some people lived in tiny shacks; families without indoor plumbing had to use outhouses. We shared our outdoor play space with chickens and pigs.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    BEDE. For Geraza is a famous city of Arabia, on the other side of the Jordan, close to the mountain of Galaad, which was possessed by the tribe of Manasseh, and not far from the lake of Tiberias, into which the swine were cast headlong. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. 28. in Matt.) But as soon as our Lord had departed from the sea, He meets with another more awful wonder. For the demoniac, like an evil slave, when he sees Him confirms his bondage, as it follows, And when he went forth to land, there met him out of the city a certain man, &c. AUGUSTINE. (Cons. Ev. ut sup.) Whereas Matthew says, that there were two possessed, but Mark and Luke mention only one; you must understand one of them to be a more distinguished and famous person, for whom that neighbourhood was chiefly distressed, and in whose restoration they were greatly interested. Wishing to signify this, the two Evangelists thought right to mention him alone, concerning whom the report of this miracle had been most extensively noised abroad. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. 28. in Matt.) Or, Luke selected from the two the one who was most savage. Hence he gives the most melancholy account of his calamity, adding, And he wore no clothes, neither abode in any house, but in the tombs. But the evil spirits visit the tombs of the dead, to instil into men that dangerous notion, that the souls of the dead become evil spirits. CYRIL OF ALEXANDRIA. Now his going naked among the tombs of the dead was a mark of demoniacal wildness. But God permits some in His providence to become subject to evil spirits, that we may ascertain through them of what kind the evil spirits are towards us, in order that we may refuse to be made subject unto them, and so by the suffering of one many may be edified. CHRYSOSTOM. (ubi sup.) But because the people acknowledged Him to be man, the devils came publishing His divinity, which even the sea had proclaimed by its calmness. Hence it follows, When he saw Jesus he fell down before him, and with a loud voice said, &c.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    15:38–4138. And the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom. 39. And when the centurion, which stood over against him, saw that he so cried out, and gave up the ghost, he said, Truly this man was the Son of God. 40. There were also women looking on afar off: among whom was Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the less and of Joses, and Salome; 41. (Who also, when he was in Galilee, followed him, and mininistered unto him;) and many other women which came up with him unto Jerusalem. GLOSS. After the Evangelist has related the Passion and the death of Christ, he now goes on to mention those things which followed after the death of our Lord. Wherefore it is said: And the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom. PSEUDO-JEROME. The veil of the temple is rent, that is, the heaven is opened. THEOPHYLACT. Again, God by the rending of the veil implied that the grace of the Holy Spirit goes away and is rent from the temple, so that the Holy of holies might be seen by all;e also that the temple will mourn amongst the Jews, when they shall deplore their calamities, and rend their clothes. This also is a figure of the living temple, that is, the body of Christ, in whose Passion His garment is torn, that is, His flesh. Again, it means another thing; for the flesh is the veil of our temple, that is, of our mind. But the power of the flesh is torn in the Passion of Christ, from the top to the bottom, that is, from Adam even down to the latest man; for also Adam was made whole by the Passion of Christ, and his flesh does not remain under the curse, nor does it deserve corruption, but we all are gifted with incorruption. And when the centurion who stood over against him saw. He who commands a hundred soldiers is called a centurion. But seeing that He died with such power as the Lord, he wondered and confessed. BEDE. (ubi sup.) Now the cause of the centurion’s wonder is clear, that seeing that the Lord died in that way, that is, sent forth His spirit, he said, Truly this man was the Son of God. For no one can send forth his own spirit, but He who is the Creator of souls. AUGUSTINE. (de Trin. 4, 13) This also he most of all wondered at, that after that voice which He sent forth as a figure of our sin, He immediately gave up His spirit. For the spirit of the Mediator shewed that no penalty of sin could have had power to cause the death of His flesh; for it did not leave the flesh unwillingly, but as it willed, for it was joined to the Word of God in the unity of person.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    He now gives the goal toward which this science moves. He says that its progression comes to rest, or is terminated, in the contrary of what was previously found in those who first sought this science, as also happens in the case of natural generations and motions. For each motion is terminated in the contrary of that from which the motion begins. Hence, since investigation is a kind of movement towards knowledge, it must be terminated in the contrary of that from which it begins. But, as was stated above (53), the investigation of this science began with man ’ s wonder about all things, because the first philosophers wondered about less important matters and subsequent philosophers about more hidden ones. And the object of their wonder was whether the case was like that of strange chance occurrences, i.e., things which seem to happen mysteriously by chance. For things which happen as if by themselves are called chance occurrences. For men wonder most of all when things happen by chance in this way, supposing that they were foreseen or determined by some cause. For chance occurrences are not determined by a cause, and wonder results from ignorance of a cause. Therefore when men were not yet able to recognize the causes of things, they wondered about all things as if they were chance occurrences; just as they wondered about changes in the course of the sun, which are two in number, namely, the solstices, that of winter and that of summer. For at the summer solstice the sun begins to decline toward the south, after previously declining toward the north. But at the winter solstice the opposite occurs. And they wondered also that the diagonal of a square is not commensurable with a side. For since to be immeasurable seems to belong to the indivisible alone (just as unity alone is what is not measured by number but itself measures all numbers), it seems to be a matter of wonder that something which is not indivisible is immeasurable, and consequently that what is not a smallest part is immeasurable. Now it is evident that the diagonal of a square and its side are neither indivisible nor smallest parts. Hence it seems a matter of wonder if they are not commensurable.

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