Awe

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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• From Four Days to Glory: Wrestling with the Soul of the American Heartland (2005)

  By tradition, the winner of each weight class is presented the bracket on which his name appears. The kids walk off the podium looking like they’re holding giant ceremonial paychecks. Downstairs, the coaches struggle against the constraints of the coats and ties they have donned specifically for the finals. More to the point, it’s getting mighty quiet. Near the south end of the space, Scott Morningstar, who went through this evening four times himself as a wrestler, helps his son warm up; Ryan will be trying for his third straight state title. On a practice mat, a single wrestler from Don Bosco High of Gilbertville finds himself surrounded by six or seven teammates and another slew of coaches. On finals night, it is virtually impossible to go unnoticed. Into this atmosphere pass Jay and Dan, and it isn’t as though anyone around them fails to grasp the significance of the moment. Still, no words are spoken to either wrestler; it is a traditional, respectful sort of avoidance. Upstairs, the Grand March is about to commence, and a bizarre scene it is. On the one hand, it is a mass celebration, with nearly 350 wrestlers proceeding onto the main floor; they are the boys who have survived the week to become one of the eight place-winners at each weight, and they enter to thunderous, gooseflesh-raising applause. But among their numbers are Dan and Jay and the other championship finalists, the only ones in the building who don’t yet know what place they will take in this last, loving turn through the Barn. It gives the moment a sort of electric edge. Last night in the old place, and there is still some mystery left. Along a catwalk, a high-schooler wearing a Cedar Falls shirt says loudly, “Jay Borschel ain’t gonna win four, because I’m personally gonna kick his ass.” It’s a remark that sounds familiar. Two summers ago, Jay, with his soft features and his deceptively pretty eyes, had tried his hand at construction, a job offered him through a coaching connection. After a few weeks, Jay went to his boss and thanked him for the opportunity, but told him that he had decided to give up the job in order to put in more time training for the coming season. The man never knew the real reason Jay quit was that he had grown weary of the casual taunts by the veteran construction workers and worried that he might react by hurting somebody. “I guess there’s a part of you that would just like to take them and kick their ass,” he says one day, speaking of the average heckler in the wrestling crowd. “But it wouldn’t change anything. They’d come back with something worse tomorrow.” Jay has long since discovered his truth: The only chance he ever has to put in the final word comes on the mat. Everything away from it, no matter how much he feeds on it to drive him, is just talk.

• From Four Days to Glory: Wrestling with the Soul of the American Heartland (2005)

  It’s a tiny thing, really, barely a noticeable wobble from his position atop Rose, but Rose seizes the moment—it’s his time to just go for the entire match. With a shocking twist and the strength in his upper body, Rose brings Dan down on his head and spins Dan’s legs and torso up, so that at one point Dan actually appears to be perpendicular to the mat, his wrestling shoes sticking up in the air. The auditorium Vets crowd reacts as though a shot has been fired through the building. It’s a stunning breach in the middle of a championship match. Over in the corner, Doug jumps from his seat, but he is helpless to do anything but watch. Dan could come down in any number of positions. He could land on his shoulders and get stuck there for a pin. He could come down awkwardly, not seeing the mat clearly, and injure himself—a wrenched neck, a strained shoulder. Rose tries to react to this instant with a quick flurry of moves, and it’s the right idea. Rose is doing everything he can to exploit the chaos, searching for a place to grab and hang on. He is searching for his own moment of glory. The only person inside the Barn on Saturday night who isn’t worried about his position is the guy who happens to be in it. Deftly, almost instantaneously, Dan breaks down out of his high spin, kicks away from Rose slightly, and comes to the mat on all fours. He immediately regains his balance, and with it his control. Upon further review, what just happened may have been the only moment of the entire match that Dan didn’t anticipate in his mind’s eye, but no matter now. The moment has passed. Now, as he piles up points and continues hammering away at Brett Rose, Dan sees the finish. He hears the crowd, hears it before the crowd has even risen to acknowledge him. He is ready for the moment. It is Dan’s father who cannot process it. As Dan comes off the mat, a 16–8 winner, Doug stands stock-still in the corner of the mat. He is out of his chair but not moving, because he cannot move. He can’t. And so as Doug stands there, letting the jolts go through him, it is Brad Bridgewater who wraps up Dan in a huge bear hug and lifts him toward the ceiling of the Barn, and spins him around while the camera flashes light up the building, allowing the crowd to see what a four-timer looks like fully illuminated. And later, when Doug steps forward during the medal ceremony to drape the gold around Dan’s neck—only then does Doug begin to cry. He lets it go, the same way Dan’s youngest brother, Chris, has done a few minutes earlier in the safety and privacy of the downstairs.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  asked the meaning of it. "If the stag," replied the gentleman, "does not know the king's secret, it is not just that the king should know the stag's secret. Be satisfied with knowing, sire, that it is not everyone who wears horns, who has his cap lifted off by them ; some horns are so soft that a man may wear them without knowing it." It was plain to the king from this reply that the gentleman knew something of his own affair, but he never suspected either him or the queen. That princess played her part extremely well ; for the more pleased she was with her husband's conduct, the more she pretended to be dissatisfied. So they lived as good friends on both sides until old age put an end to their mutual pleasures. This, ladies, is a story which I have great pleasure in proposing to you by way of example, to the end that when your husbands give you horns you may do the same by them.* " I am very well assured, Saffredent," said Ennasuite, laughing, "that if you were as much in love as you have formerly been, you would endure horns as big as oaks for the sake of bestowing a pair as you pleased ; but now that your hair is beginning to turn grey, it is time to put a truce to your desires." * The king who figures in this novel, it is thought, is Alfonso v., King of Aragon and Sicily, who supplanted King Rend on the throne of Naples in 1443, and remained in possession of it until his death in 1458. He married, in 141 5, Maria, daughter of Henry III., King of Castile, and lived on very bad terms with that prin- cess, who, according to the authors of VArt de verifier les DateSy never set foot in Italy. Queen Mary, who was married in 1415, must have been long past her bloom in 1443. For this reason the Bibliophiles Fran^ais are inclined to believe that the Queen of Navarre has here related, under borrowed names, a true story ot her own times. 3 34 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE \N(wel 3 "Though she whom I love, mademoiselle, allows me no hope," replied Saffredent, " and age has exhausted my vigour, my desires remain still in full force. But since you reproach me with so seemly a passion, you will, if you please, relate to us the fourth novel ; and we shall see if you can find some example which may refute me.

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  Sometimes when I go forward at church to take Communion, to take the bread and dip it in the wine, the thought of Jesus comes to me, the red of His blood or the smell of His humanity, and I eat the bread and I wonder at the mystery of what I am doing, that somehow I am one with Christ, that I get my very life from Him, my spiritual life comes from His working inside me, being inside me. I know our culture will sometimes understand a love for Jesus as weakness. There is this lie floating around that says I am supposed to be able to do life alone, without any help, without stopping to worship something bigger than myself. But I actually believe there is something bigger than me, and I need for there to be something bigger than me. I need someone to put awe inside me; I need to come second to someone who has everything figured out. All great characters in stories are the ones who give their lives to something bigger than themselves. And in all of the stories I don’t find anyone more noble than Jesus. He gave His life for me, in obedience to His Father. I truly love Him for it. I feel that, and so does Laura and Penny and Rick and Tony the Beat Poet. I think the difference in my life came when I realized, after reading those Gospels, that Jesus didn’t just love me out of principle; He didn’t just love me because it was the right thing to do. Rather, there was something inside me that caused Him to love me. I think I realized that if I walked up to His campfire, He would ask me to sit down, and He would ask me my story. He would take the time to listen to my ramblings or my anger until I could calm down, and then He would look me directly in the eye, and He would speak to me; He would tell me the truth, and I would sense in his voice and in the lines on His face that he liked me. He would rebuke me, too, and he would tell me that I have prejudices against very religious people and that I need to deal with that; He would tell me that there are poor people in the world and I need to feed them and that somehow this will make me more happy. I think He would tell me what my gifts are and why I have them, and He would give me ideas on how to use them. I think He would explain to me why my father left, and He would point out very clearly all the ways God has taken care of me through the years, all the stuff God protected me from.

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

  IN WHAT RELATION HUMAN REASON STANDS TO THE TRUTH OF FAITHIT would also seem well to observe that sensible things from which human reason derives the source of its knowledge, retain a certain trace of likeness to God, but so imperfect that it proves altogether inadequate to manifest the substance itself of God. For effects resemble their causes according to their own mode, since like action proceeds from like agent; and yet the effect does not always reach to a perfect likeness to the agent. Accordingly human reason is adapted to the knowledge of the truth of faith, which can be known in the highest degree only by those who see the divine substance, in so far as it is able to put together certain probable arguments in support thereof, which nevertheless are insufficient to enable us to understand the aforesaid truth as though it were demonstrated to us or understood by us in itself. And yet however weak these arguments may be, it is useful for the human mind to be practised therein, so long as it does not pride itself on having comprehended or demonstrated: since although our view of the sublimest things is limited and weak, it is most pleasant to be able to catch but a glimpse of them, as appears from what has been said. The authority of Hilary is in agreement with this statement: for he says (De Trin.) while speaking of this same truth: Begin by believing these things, advance and persevere; and though I know thou wilt not arrive, I shall rejoice at thy advance. For he who devoutly follows in pursuit of the infinite, though he never come up with it, will always advance by setting forth. Yet pry not into that secret, and meddle not in the mystery of the birth of the infinite, nor presume to grasp that which is the summit of understanding: but understand that there are things thou canst not grasp. CHAPTER IX OF THE ORDER AND MODE OF PROCEDURE IN THIS WORKACCORDINGLY, from what we have been saying it is evident that the intention of the wise man must be directed to the twofold truth of divine things and to the refutation of contrary errors: and that the research of reason is able to reach to one of these, while the other surpasses every effort of reason. And I speak of a twofold truth of divine things, not on the part of God Himself Who is Truth one and simple, but on the part of our knowledge, the relation of which to the knowledge of divine things varies.

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  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. Children were playing by the water with balls and sticks and plastic guns emitting light and sound. As I watched them, ignoring the papers I had brought with me to grade, I noticed a younger child, maybe three or four years old, standing apart from the others. She stood at the very edge of the water, and close behind her crouched a man I took to be her father. Again and again, as I watched, this girl, anchored at the waist by the arm of the man behind her, leaned perilously forward (though there was no peril) over the sharp bank, looking down at the water rushing two or three feet beneath her. Repeatedly she leaned forward and repeatedly sprang back, returning to stability with delighted laughter.

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

  GREEK EXPOSITOR. (Photius.) Or she says, Hath shewed, for will shew strength, not as long ago by the hand of Moses against the Egyptians, nor as by the Angel, (when he slew many thousand of the rebel Assyrians,) nor by any other instrument save His own power, He openly triumphed, overcoming spiritual (intelligibiles) enemies. Hence it follows, he hath scattered, &c. that is to say, every heart that was puffed up and not obedient to His coming He hath laid bare, and exposed the wickedness of their proud thoughts. CYRIL OF JERUSALEM. But these words may be more appropriately taken to refer to the hostile ranks of the evil spirits. For they were raging on the earth, when our Lord’s coming put them to flight, and restored those whom they had bound, to His obedience. THEOPHYLACT. This might also be understood of the Jews whom He scattered into all lands as they are now scattered. 1:5252. He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree. BEDE. The words, He hath shewed strength with his arm, and those which went before, And his mercy is on them that fear him from generation to generation, must be joined to this verse by a comma only. For truly through all generations of the world, by a merciful and just administration of Divine power, the proud do not cease to fall, and the humble to be exalted. As it is said, He hath put down the mighty from their seat, he hath exalted the humble and meek. CYRIL OF ALEXANDRIA. The mighty in knowledge were the evil spirits, the Devil, the wise ones of the Gentiles, the Scribes and Pharisees; yet these He hath put down, and raised up those who humbled themselves under the mighty hand of God (1 Pet. 5:6); giving them the power of treading upon serpents and scorpions and every power of the enemy. (Luke 10:19.) The Jews were also at one time puffed up with power, but unbelief slew them, and the mean and lowly of the Gentiles have through faith climbed up to the highest summit. GREEK EXPOSITOR. (Macarius ex Serm. 1.) For our understanding is acknowledged to be the judgment-seat of God, but after the transgression, the powers of evil took their seat in the heart of the first man as on their own throne. For this reason then the Lord came and cast out the evil spirits from the seat of our will, and raised up those who were vanquished by devils, purging their consciences, and making their hearts his own dwelling place. 1:5353. He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away.

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

  Further. Since a thing is desirable for the sake of an end, and the aspect of good consists in its being desirable; it follows that a thing is said to be good, either because it is an end, or because it is directed to an end. Therefore the last end is that from which all things take the aspect of good. Now this is God, as we shall prove further on. Therefore God is the good of every good. Hence the Lord in promising Moses that he should see Him, said (Exod. 33:19): I will show thee all good. And it is said of divine wisdom (Wis. 8): All good things came to me together with her. CHAPTER XLI THAT GOD IS THE SOVEREIGN GOODFROM this it is proved that God is the sovereign good. For the universal good stands far above any particular good, even as the good of the nation is greater than the good of an individual: since the goodness and perfection of the whole stand above the goodness and perfection of the part. Now the divine goodness of God is compared to all other things as the universal good to the particular, for He is the good of every good, as we have proved. Therefore He is the sovereign good. Moreover. That which is predicated essentially is said more truly than that which is predicated by participation. Now God is good by His essence; and other things, by participation, as shown above. Therefore He is the sovereign good. Again. The greatest in any genus is the cause of others in that genus: since the cause is greater than its effect. Now all things derive their ratio of goodness from God, as we have shown. Therefore He is the sovereign good. Moreover. Just as that is more white which has less admixture of black, so that is better which has less admixture of evil. Now God is most of all unmixed with evil, since in Him there can be no evil, neither in act nor in potentiality, and this becomes Him by His very nature, as we have proved. Therefore He is the sovereign good. Hence it is said (1 Kings 2:2): There is none holy as the Lord is. CHAPTER XLII THAT GOD IS ONEHAVING proved the foregoing, it is manifest that there is only one God. For it is impossible that there be two sovereign goods: since that which is ascribed to a thing by way of superabundance is to be found in one alone. Now God is the sovereign good, as we have shown. Therefore God is one.

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

  For instance, a body that is naturally light seeks an elevated place in its ascent; and so of other bodies. Consequently, since the circular motion of a heavenly body does not tend to a definite position, we cannot say that the active principle of a heavenly body’s circular motion is nature, in the sense that nature is the principle of the motion of heavy and light bodies. Accordingly there is no reason wh y heavenly bodies should not come to rest, without any change in their nature, even though fire, if its nature is to remain constant, cannot cease from its restlessness as long as it exists outside its proper sphere. Nevertheless we say that the motion of a heavenly body is natural; but it is natural not by reason of an active principle of motion in it, but by reason of the mobile body itself that has an aptitude for such motion. We conclude, therefore, that motion is communicated to a heavenly body by some intellect. However, since an intellect does not impart movement except in view of some end, we must inquire what is the end of the motion of heavenly bodies. The motion itself cannot be said to be this end. For motion is the way leading to perfection, and so does not verify the concept of end, but rather pertains to that which is tending toward an end. Likewise we cannot maintain that a succession of locations is the term of the movement of a heavenly body, as though a heavenly body moved for the purpose of actually occupying every position for which it has a potency; this would entail endless wandering, and what is endless contradicts the notion of end. We ought to think of the end of the heaven’s motion somewhat as follows. Any body set in motion by an intellect is evidently an instrument of the latter. But the end of an instrument’s motion is a form conceived by the principal agent, a form that is reduced to act by the motion of the instrument. The form conceived by the divine intellect, to be realized by the motion of the heavens, is the perfection of things. as achieved by way of generation and corruption. But the ultimate end of generation and corruption is the noblest of all forms, the human soul; and the soul’s ultimate end is eternal life, as we said above. Accordingly the ultimate end of the movement of the heavens is the multiplication of men, who are to be brought into being for eternal life.

• From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

  The Castle was a funny old place, smaller than I’d expected & completely irregular. There was a hall in the middle, with a dark panelled room off it at the back. On either side half-collapsed walls made off into the wood, & were cunningly topped with small trees to look like authentic medieval ruins. Some of the windows were pointed, some round, some square, & through the ivy you cd see that the walls were patterned with huge pieces of vermiculated stone—not, I think, the usual builders’ material, which is drilled artificially, but the real thing, brought from some volcanic site. The whole surface of the little Castle was freakish & grotesque, with the hairy fingers of long-dead creepers, the dull gloss of the ivy, the arrow-slits, & the rough, labyrinthine lava. S. & I slid our fingers into the inviting little passages, & lots of woodlice & things came scampering out. At the back we went through an arch into a little dank yard, with ferns lolling from the walls, a heap of old beer-bottles in one corner, & the ash & half-burnt logs of a fire that had been lit there long ago. It was strange that whoever had camped there had not gone inside—we had found it unlocked, & there was a huge blackened chimney-breast in the hall. When S. & I went in the others were already flinging the picnic around as if it were a hare & they were dogs. There were some long trestle-tables, with benches, & at either end colossal Arthurian chairs made out of whole trees. The entire thing was like some mad college hall, except with pigeons flopping around, & more bird-droppings than usual on the tables. There were other bits of furniture too, hideous Victorian things too big to destroy, like a carved cupboard with a ruched scarlet curtain (all torn & stained) & an old S-shaped loving-chair, where 2 people cd sit acceptably side-by-side with a balustrade in between. ‘This is a queer old dive,’ said Chancey to me, in a confidential sort of way. ‘Do you think so?’ I said. ‘I was just thinking how like home it was.’ I cd see he didn’t know quite whether to believe me.

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

  Moreover. God is utterly unchangeable, as we have proved above. But that which begins or ceases to live, or is subject to succession in living, is changeable: for the life of a being begins by generation and ceases by corruption, and succession results from change of some kind. Therefore God neither began to be, nor will cease to be, nor is subject to succession in living. Therefore His life is eternal. Wherefore it is said (Deut. 32:40) in the person of the Lord: I live for ever; and (1 Jo. 5.): This is the true God and life eternal. CHAPTER C THAT GOD IS HAPPYIT remains for us to show from the foregoing that God is happy. For happiness is the proper good of every intellectual nature. Since then God is intelligent, His proper good is happiness. Now He is compared to His proper good, not as that which tends to a good not yet possessed—for this belongs to a nature that is changeable and in potentiality, but as that which already possesses its proper good. Wherefore He not only desires happiness, as we do, but enjoys it. Therefore He is happy.

• From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

  ‘I don’t think there can be any doubt, do you?’ said Staines. ‘That’s certainly him,’ pronounced Charles. ‘If it’s what I think it is,’ said James, ‘it must be at the very end of his life.’ And in the next little bit he was laughing and suddenly it was going wrong: he had started to cough and cough, doubling up, his long hand gestured the camera away. I understood then, in the next scene, why he looked so frail, had the air of a man nonetheless confronting a threat. He was tackling a steep cobbled hill at the top of which a church was outlined in the late afternoon sun. His whole walk was anyway extraordinary, not best calculated for getting from one place to another, a business of undulating hands and picked tiny steps, and yet obviously inescapable: that was how he walked. A couple of small children at the roadside watched him pass and then started to follow him. One understood their sense that anything so conspicuous must be done deliberately, as an entertainment or as the origin of a procession. A taller boy, a ten-year-old in ragged clothes, joined them, imitating the novelist’s walk. The little ones, emboldened, skipped round him, running ahead as well to see him coming on, openly curious, asking questions, it seemed, of two or three syllables. The hectic jerkiness of the film lent them all a fantastical twitching energy. Then Firbank’s hand went into his pocket and flung backwards a scatter of nickel coins. Unsurprisingly the next scene showed the crowd about twenty strong. They were reaching the brow of the hill, capering around, others almost marching, but in a volatile Firbankian way, like some primitive disco dance. They were calling and waving their hands, and then chanting something together—a name, an epithet. The camera, with a certain artistic flair, concentrated on the youngsters: tots and urchins with a droll seriousness to them, rowdy pubescent boys bursting out of children’s clothes, and others, with their wide-eyed Italian faces, gazing into the lens as they half-strode, half-loitered with the crowd, plucking at the sleeve of the heart. And yet it was the mood which fascinated. This marionette of a man, on his last legs, had been picked on by the crowd, yet as they mobbed him they seemed somehow to be celebrating him. He became perhaps for a moment, what he must always have wanted to be, an entertainer. The children’s expressions showed that profoundly true, unthinking mixture of cruelty and affection. There was fear in their mockery, yet the figure at the heart of their charivari took on the likeness not only of a clown, but of a patron saint. It was a rough impromptu kind of triumph.

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

  AUGUSTINE. (in Joan. Tr. vi. sparsim) The Holy Ghost was made to appear visibly in two ways: as a dove, upon our Lord at His baptism; and as a flame upon His disciples, when they were met together: the former shape denoting simplicity, the latter fervency. The dove intimates that souls sanctified by the Spirit should have no guile; the fire, that in that simplicity there should not be coldness. Nor let it disturb thee, that the tongues are cloven; fear no division; unity is assured to us in the dove. It was meet then that the Holy Spirit should be thus manifested descending upon our Lord; in order that every one who had the Spirit might know, that he ought to be simple as a dove, and be in sincere peace with the brethren. The kisses of doves represent this peace. Ravens kiss, but they tear also; but the nature of the dove is most alien to tearing. Ravens feed on the dead, but the dove eats nothing but the fruits of the earth. If doves moan in their love, marvel not that He Who appeared in the likeness of a dove, the Holy Spirit, maketh intercession for us with groanings that cannot be uttered. (Rom. 8:26) The Holy Spirit however groaneth not in Himself, but in us: He maketh us to groan. And he who groaneth, as knowing that, so long as He is under the burden of this mortality, he is absent from the Lord, groaneth well: it is the Spirit that hath taught him to groan. But many groan because of earthly calamities; because of losses which disquiet them, or bodily sickness which weigh heavily on them: they groan not, as doth the dove. What then could more fitly represent the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of unity, than the dove? as He saith Himself to His reconciled Church, My dove is one. (Cant. 6:9) What could better express humility, than the simplicity and moaning of a dove? Wherefore on this occasion it was that there appeared the very most Holy Trinity, the Father in the voice which said, Thou art My beloved Son; the Holy Spirit in the likeness of the dove. (Matt. 28:19) In that Trinity the Apostles were sent to baptize, i. e. in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

• From Simply Jesus (2011)

  Only then might we begin to understand how it is that the true Son of God, the true High Priest, has indeed become king of the world. This is, of course, to run too far ahead of ourselves. If we are to approach that density of understanding, we must first grasp just how powerful, within the ancient scriptures, this theme of God’s sovereign, independent action really was. Sometimes, indeed, Israel’s God was envisaged, as in our present running metaphor, in terms of the violent forces of nature, rampaging through the heavens and coming to the rescue of his people: The earth reeled and rocked; the foundations also of the mountains trembled and quaked, because he was angry. Smoke went up from his nostrils, and devouring fire from his mouth; glowing coals flamed forth from him. He bowed the heavens, and came down; thick darkness was under his feet. He rode on a cherub, and flew; he came swiftly upon the wings of the wind . He made darkness his covering around him, his canopy thick clouds dark with water. Out of the brightness before him there broke through his clouds hailstones and coals of fire. YHWH also thundered in the heavens, and the Most High uttered his voice. And he sent out his arrows, and scattered them; he flashed forth lightnings, and routed them. Then the channels of the sea were seen, and the foundations of the world were laid bare at your rebuke, O YHWH , at the blast of the breath of your nostrils. (Ps. 18:7–15) That sounds pretty much like a hurricane to me. And perhaps something more. Whatever else the ancient Israelites believed about their God, he was not a tame God. He was not the cool, detached God of ancient Epicureanism or modern Deism. But nor was he simply the personification of those forces of nature. He uses them, riding on the wind. At other times he tells the winds to be quiet. He remains sovereign over the elements. He is, after all, their creator. This is a different sort of wind altogether. In a sense, it’s strange even to put it alongside the other two. But the reason for doing so is that the first-century Jews told stories not only about their national history, but about their God. They celebrated his power, singing psalms like the one I’ve just quoted. They held together, with fierce devotion, their robust beliefs that their God was the one and only God, their anguish was the pain of the world, and the agony of their own people was at the heart of that world. Jerusalem, as ever, stood at the point where the tectonic plates of the world crashed together.

• From Simply Jesus (2011)

  You didn’t have to look far to discover the reason for the celebration either. People were being healed—healed of any and every disease you can think of. Ancient medicine wasn’t quite as unsophisticated as we moderns sometimes imagine, but it wasn’t that effective either. In any given community there would be many suffering from long-term problems, from the broken bone that hadn’t healed properly to the persistent, year-in-and-year-out hemorrhage. And with almost every bodily problem came some sort of social problem: the farm worker who couldn’t plough anymore, the “unclean” woman who couldn’t share food with her family. So wherever Jesus went, he healed people. “He went on through the whole of Galilee,” says Matthew, “teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, healing every disease and every illness among the people” (4:23). There is every reason to suppose that this is exactly what most people saw going on as Jesus of Nazareth launched his strange, short public career. Already we are back again in the eye of our own, modern historical storm. Skeptics have always scoffed at these stories. We know, they say, that “miracles” don’t happen. People are attracted to a charismatic leader, and so they make up stories to boost his reputation. In any case, what sort of a “god” is it who “intervenes” in this way? But then others say, no, “miracles” are what you’d expect if there’s a “supernatural” God and if Jesus is his son. And then a third element asks: what do we actually know about these things within first-century history anyway? It’s a shame to stop the story when it’s hardly begun, but let’s freeze the frame for a moment and address these well-known questions. If we don’t, seeds of doubt may be planted. There’s no time for extensive answers; four quick ones will do for the moment. First, Jesus attracted large crowds. A thousand little features of the stories put this beyond doubt. When we ask why, the gospels all say it was because he was healing people. The link between healing and crowds is made in all the sources. Second, we find reports at various points of opponents accusing Jesus of being in league with the devil—with the “Shame Lord” (Beelzebul) or something similar. Scholars have often suggested that many Jesus stories were invented by his followers later on. But those who loved and worshipped Jesus wouldn’t have invented tales of his being involved in dark arts. People don’t accuse you of being in league with the devil unless you are doing pretty remarkable things.

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

  He says, therefore first, that some have said that chance is the cause of the heavens and all the parts of the world. And they said that the revolution of the world, and the movement of the stars distinguishing and constituting the whole universe below according to this order, is by chance. This seems to be the opinion of Democritus, who says that the heavens and the whole world are constituted by chance through the movement of atoms which are per se mobile. 204. Next where he says, ‘ This statement might ... ’ (196 a 28), he disproves this position with two arguments. The first argument is that it would seem to be worthy of great wonder that animals and plants are not from fortune but from intellect or nature or some other determinate cause. For it is clear that a thing is not generated from any seed whatsoever, but man from a determinate seed, and the olive from a determinate seed. And since these inferior things do not come to be by fortune, it is worthy of wonder that the heavens and those things which are more divine among the sensible things obvious to us, e.g. the sempiternal parts of the world, are by chance, and should not have any determinate cause, as do animals and plants. And if this is true, it would have been worthwhile to insist and to give a reason why this is so. But the ancients failed to do this. 205. He gives the second argument where he says, ‘ For besides the other... ’ (196 b 1). How can it be true that the celestial bodies are by chance, while inferior bodies are not? This seems to be inconsistent first from the fact that they are the nobler, and secondly it is even more inconsistent in the light of what is seen. For we see that in the heavens nothing comes to be by chance, whereas in inferior bodies, which are not said to be by chance, many things seem to happen by fortune. According to their position it would be more reasonable if the converse were true, so that in those things whose cause is chance or fortune, some things would be found to come to be by chance or by fortune, whereas in those things whose cause is not chance or fortune, these latter would not be found. 206. Next where he says, ‘ Others there are... ’ (196 b 5), he sets forth the third opinion about fortune. He says that it seems to some that fortune is a cause, but it is hidden to the human intellect, as if it were something divine and above men. For they wanted to hold the position that all fortuitous events are reduced to some divine ordaining cause, as we hold that all things are ordered by divine providence.

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

  2. Again, the justification of the ungodly is ordained for the particular good of an individual man. But the good of the universe is greater than the good of an individual man, as is clear from 1 Ethics 2. The creation of heaven and earth is therefore a greater work than the justification of the ungodly. 3. Again, to make something out of nothing, when there is nothing which co-operates with the agent, is greater than to make something out of something else with the co-operation of the subject. Now in the work of creation something is made out of nothing, and there is consequently nothing which can cooperate with the agent. In the justification of the ungodly, on the other hand, something is made out of something else. That is, God makes a just man out of an ungodly man, who, moreover, co-operates by the movement of his free will, as was said in Art. 3. Hence the justification of the ungodly is not the greatest work of God. On the other hand: it is said in Ps. 145:9: “ his tender mercies are over all his works, ” and the collect says: “ O God, who declarest thy Almighty power especially by pardon and mercy. ” Further, expounding John 14:12, “ and greater works than these shall he do, ” Augustine says: “ that a just man should be made out of an ungodly man is a greater work than the creation of heaven and earth ” (Tract. 72 in Joan.). I answer: a work may be said to be great in two ways. It may be said to be great in respect of the manner of action. In this respect, the greatest work is the work of creation, in which something is made out of nothing. But a work may also be said to be great in respect of what it achieves. Now the justification of the ungodly terminates in the eternal good of participation in the divine nature. It is therefore greater in respect of what it achieves than the creation of heaven and earth, which terminates in the good of changeable nature. Hence, when Augustine says: “ that a just man should be made out of an ungodly man is a greater work than the creation of heaven and earth, ” he adds: “ for heaven and earth shall pass away, but the salvation and justification of the predestined shall remain. ”

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  I love how the Gospels start, with John the Baptist eating bugs and baptizing people. The religious people started getting baptized because it had become popular, and John yells at them and calls them snakes. He says the water won’t do anything for them, it will only get their snakeskins wet. But if they meant it, if they had faith that Jesus was coming and was real, then Jesus would ignite the kingdom life within them. I love that because for so long religion was my false gospel. But there was no magic in it, no wonder, no awe, no kingdom life burning in my chest. And when I get tempted by that same stupid Christian religion, I go back to the beginning of the Gospels and am comforted that there is something more than the emptiness of ritual. God will ignite the kingdom life within me, the Bible says. That’s mysticism. It isn’t a formula that I am figuring out. It is something God does. One night I watched the sunset till the stars faded in and, while looking up, my mind, or my heart, I do not know which, realized how endless it all was. I laid myself down on some grass and reached my hand directly out toward where? I don’t know. There is no up and down. There has never been an up and down. Things like up and down were invented so as not to scare children, so as to reduce mystery to math. The truth is we do not know there is an end to material existence. It may go on forever, which is something the mind cannot understand. My friend Jason and I went on a trip to Joshua Tree and Death Valley, and he had a map folded across his lap nearly the entire trip. Even when I was driving, he had the map out, following along with his finger the trajectory of the car, noting how close we were to certain towns, certain lakes. Jason liked to know where we were on the map (and so did I, as a matter of fact). But I was afraid to tell Jason about the universe, how scientists haven’t found the edge of it, of how nobody knows exactly where we are on the map.

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  We met in Commons—Penny, Nadine, Mitch, Iven, Tony, and I. Tony said I had an idea. They looked at me. I told them that Tony was lying and I didn’t have an idea at all. They looked at Tony. Tony gave me a dirty look and told me to tell them the idea. I told them I had a stupid idea that we couldn’t do without getting attacked. They leaned in. I told them that we should build a confession booth in the middle of campus and paint a sign on it that said “Confess your sins.” Penny put her hands over her mouth. Nadine smiled. Iven laughed. Mitch started drawing the designs for the booth on a napkin. Tony nodded his head. I wet my pants. “They may very well burn it down,” Nadine said. “I will build a trapdoor,” Mitch said with his finger in the air. “I like it, Don.” Iven patted me on the back. “I don’t want anything to do with it,” Penny said. “Neither do I,” I told her. “Okay, you guys.” Tony gathered everybody’s attention. “Here’s the catch.” He leaned in a little and collected his thoughts. “We are not actually going to accept confessions.” We all looked at him in confusion. He continued, “We are going to confess to them. We are going to confess that, as followers of Jesus, we have not been very loving; we have been bitter, and for that we are sorry. We will apologize for the Crusades, we will apologize for televangelists, we will apologize for neglecting the poor and the lonely, we will ask them to forgive us, and we will tell them that in our selfishness, we have misrepresented Jesus on this campus. We will tell people who come into the booth that Jesus loves them.” All of us sat there in silence because it was obvious that something beautiful and true had hit the table with a thud. We all thought it was a great idea, and we could see it in each other’s eyes. It would feel so good to apologize, to apologize for the Crusades, for Columbus and the genocide he committed in the Bahamas in the name of God, apologize for the missionaries who landed in Mexico and came up through the West slaughtering Indians in the name of Christ. I wanted so desperately to say that none of this was Jesus, and I wanted so desperately to apologize for the many ways I had misrepresented the Lord. I could feel that I had betrayed the Lord by judging, by not being willing to love the people He had loved and only giving lip service to issues of human rights.

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

  It follows, Came Mary Magdalen, and the other Mary, &c. Late runs woman for pardon, who had run early to sin; in paradise she had taken up unbelief, from the sepulchre she hastes to take up faith; she now hastens to snatch life from death, who had before snatched death from life. And it is not, They come, but came, (in the singular,) for in mystery and not by accident, the two came under one name. She came, but altered; a woman, changed in life, not in name; in virtue, not in sex. The women go before the Apostles, bearing to the Lord’s sepulchre a type of the Churches; the two Marys, to wit. For Mary is the name of Christ’s mother; and one name is twice repeated for two women, because herein is figured the Church coming out of the two nations, the Gentiles and the Jews, and being yet one. Mary came to the sepulchre, as to the womb of the resurrection, that Christ might be the second time born out of the sepulchre of faith, who after the flesh had been born of her womb; and that as a virgin had borne Him into this life present, so a sealed sepulchre might bring Him forth into life eternal. It is proof of Deity to have left a womb virgin after birth, and no less to have come forth in the body from a closed sepulchre. JEROME. And, behold, there was a great earthquake. Our Lord, Son at once of God and man, according to His twofold nature of Godhead and of flesh, gives a sign one while of His greatness, another while of His lowliness. Thus, though now it was man who was crucified, and man who was buried, yet the things that were done around shew the Son of God. HILARY. The earthquake is the might of the resurrection, when the sting of death being blunted, and its darkness illuminated, there is stirred up a quaking of the powers beneath, as the Lord of the heavenly powers rises again. CHRYSOSTOM. Or the earthquake was to rouse and waken the women, who had come to anoint the body; and as all these things were done in the night-time, it was probable that some of them had fallen asleep. BEDE. (ubi sup.) The earthquake at the Resurrection, as also at the Crucifixion, signifies that worldly hearts must be first moved to penitence by a health-giving fear through belief in His Passion and Resurrection.