Gratitude
Gratitude is not appreciation. Appreciation is the polite registering of value; gratitude is the body acknowledging that what has been given was not owed. The chest opens slightly; the gaze lifts toward the source; the self briefly admits its dependence. Vela reads gratitude apart from the gratitude-journal industry — not as a daily practice in self-management, but as the somatic register of having recognized a gift.
Working definition · Warm acknowledgment of having been given to—a specific other, a moment, a life.
1639 passages · in 1 cluster
Vela’s read on this emotion
Gratitude has been more thoroughly captured by the wellness register than almost any other emotion. The gratitude journal, the morning list of three things, the daily-practice framing — these have made the word small. The reading works against that capture.
The memoir reads gratitude where it is hardest to perform. Paul Kalanithi's *When Breath Becomes Air* holds gratitude as the operating temperature of a life that is ending — gratitude not as discipline but as the body's honest report on what has been given. Trevor Noah's *Born a Crime* names gratitude toward a mother whose protection had a measurable, often dangerous cost. Tara Westover's *Educated* preserves gratitude that has to be untangled from family loyalty — the long work of recognizing what was a gift and what was a debt the family had no right to impose. Cheryl Strayed's *Wild* tracks gratitude that arrives in the body during the walk: a stranger's kindness, water at the right moment, the surprise of being alive at all.
Gratitude has a long contemplative literature. The Hebrew Psalms hold gratitude — *hodu*, *give thanks* — as the spine of public worship. The eucharistic tradition takes its name from the Greek word for gratitude — *eucharistia*. Meister Eckhart, the fourteenth-century mystic, named gratitude as the only adequate prayer: *if the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.* The Jewish blessing tradition — the *brachot* spoken over food, over wine, over the first crocus of the year — installs gratitude as the small, hourly recognition that the world has been given.
Gratitude is not the same as appreciation, indebtedness, or relief. Appreciation registers value; gratitude registers gift. Indebtedness owes a return; gratitude does not. Relief is the body's response to a threat removed; gratitude is the body's response to a gift received. The four overlap and Vela reads them separately.
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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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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 The Spiral Staircase: My Climb Out of Darkness (2004)
The study of other people’s religious beliefs is now no longer merely desirable, but necessary for our very survival. And so I spend a great deal of my time helping people to understand Islam, showing that we cannot judge the faith of 1.2 billion Muslims by the extremists, and also indicating that our own shortsighted actions and policies in the past have contributed to the situation. Nothing excuses the atrocities of that fateful day, but the Buddhists are right to remind us that the laws of karma are always a factor in human life: our deeds have consequences that we could never have predicted at the time. It has been a great privilege to contribute to the debate in this way, but I miss my study and silence as others might miss a beloved person. I once reviewed a book about hermits, which showed that the more solitary a person becomes, the more he or she is drawn into public life. Crowds of people descended upon Saint Antony, the fourth-century ascetic who lived in the deserts of Egypt, demanding his help and advice. In our own day, the Trappist monk Thomas Merton had much the same experience. In a very minor way, this has happened to me, but I have to understand that after the revelation of September 11, I too cannot isolate myself from the problems of the world. There is, perhaps, something about the dynamic of a solitary lifestyle that propels an anchorite back to the world. I am still an outsider. In the United States, despite the warmth and generous appreciation that I enjoy there, I am a stranger and a foreigner. But when I go back to London I remain on the periphery, because my interest in religion and spirituality leaves most of my fellow countrymen cold. This feeling of being forever on the outside has been an important element in my journey, and yet despite this, I have, if only for a few months, come close to the center of things in a way that would have been inconceivable when I left my convent thirty-four years ago. In the words of the late Joseph Camp-bell, we have to “follow our bliss,” find something that wholly involves and enthralls us, even if it seems hopelessly unfashionable and unproductive, and throw ourselves into this, heart and soul. As the foundress of my religious order used to say: “ Do what you are doing!” My “bliss” has been the study of theology.
From Pleasure Activism (2017)
Dani. As far as what brings me to our text thread, I have worked by myself from home for the past five years, and now I’m raising a toddler without other adult support in our home. I do not get a lot of adult time. Nowadays I can’t really follow our thread that closely during the day, but at the end of the day, after I put my daughter to sleep, I turn to it to catch up on what’s happening in your lives and to update you with what I’ve been up to or thinking about or challenged by or working on. You really prompt me to be reflective about my life, my life as a woman, as a writer, and not just a mom, which is helpful because it’s easy for me to get stuck in mom-only mode in my sharing there. I need those gentle reminders to pay attention to my whole self. I don’t have much of a social media presence, and what I do have is focused on work. I’m pretty private online about my life. So this circle of three is where I can “post” and seek responses and support from an intimate group that I care about and that I know sincerely cares about me. AMB. And what do you feel like you bring to the woes? Jodie. My fierce Scorpio anaconda love and loyalty.131 My commitment to my own life and dignity now feels very woven into my commitment to my woes. If I can’t muster it for me, I certainly can for my woes, and they for me. It’s a dignity-amplifying superpower. I bring a lived understanding that we are stronger and more liberated and have more capacity in relationship.
From Wild (2012)
“I live there too. I’m on my way there now if you want a ride. I’d be happy to drop you off wherever you’d like.” “Thanks,” I said. “But I want to stay here for a while. Just to take it all in.” He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to me. “Give me a call once you settle in. I’d love to take you out to lunch and hear more about your trip.” “Okay,” I said, looking at the card. It was white with blue embossed letters, a relic from another world. “It was an honor to meet you at this momentous juncture,” he said. “Nice to meet you too,” I said, shaking his hand. After he drove away, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes against the sun as the tears I’d expected earlier at the bridge began to seep from my eyes. Thank you, I thought over and over again. Thank you. Not just for the long walk, but for everything I could feel finally gathered up inside of me; for everything the trail had taught me and everything I couldn’t yet know, though I felt it somehow already contained within me. How I’d never see the man in the BMW again, but how in four years I’d cross the Bridge of the Gods with another man and marry him in a spot almost visible from where I now sat. How in nine years that man and I would have a son named Carver, and a year and a half after that, a daughter named Bobbi. How in fifteen years I’d bring my family to this same white bench and the four of us would eat ice-cream cones while I told them the story of the time I’d been here once before, when I’d finished walking a long way on something called the Pacific Crest Trail. And how it would be only then that the meaning of my hike would unfold inside of me, the secret I’d always told myself finally revealed.O Which would bring me to this telling. I didn’t know how I’d reach back through the years and look for and find some of the people I’d met on the trail and that I’d look for and not find others. Or how in one case I’d find something I didn’t expect: an obituary. Doug’s. I didn’t know I’d read that he’d died nine years after we’d said goodbye on the PCT—killed in a kite-sailing accident in New Zealand. Or how, after I’d cried remembering what a golden boy he’d been, I’d go to the farthest corner of my basement, to the place where Monster hung on a pair of rusty nails, and I’d see that the raven feather Doug had given me was broken and frayed now, but still there—wedged into my pack’s frame, where I placed it years ago.
From Wild (2012)
I sat in the dirt among the weeds and knee-high saplings and did more than extensive repair on my shoes. I constructed a pair of metal-gray booties by winding the duct tape around and around my socks and the skeletal remains of my sandals, as if I were making a cast for my broken feet. I was careful to wind them tight enough that the booties would stay on while I hiked, but loose enough that I could pry them off at the end of the day without ruining them. They had to last me all the way to Castle Crags. And now I had no idea how far away that might be or how I would get there. In my duct tape booties, I continued across the clear-cut to the road and looked around. I wasn’t sure anymore in which direction I should go. The only views I had were those afforded me by the clear-cuts and roads. The woods were a dense thicket of fir trees and fallen branches, and the day had taught me that the logging roads were only lines in an inexplicable maze. They’d go west and then northeast and later veer south for a stretch. To make matters more complicated, the section of the PCT between Burney Falls and Castle Crags didn’t go north so much as in a wide westerly hook. It seemed unlikely that I could even pretend to be following the trail’s course anymore. My only goal now was to find my way out of wherever I was. I knew if I went north I’d eventually run into Highway 89. I walked the road until it was nearly dark, and found a reasonably flat stretch beside it in the woods to pitch my tent. I was lost but I was not afraid, I told myself as I made my dinner. I had plenty of food and water. Everything I needed to survive for a week or more was in my backpack. If I kept walking I’d find civilization eventually. And yet, when I crawled into my tent, I shivered with palpable gratitude for the familiar shelter of the green nylon and mesh walls that had become my home. I squiggled my feet carefully out of my duct tape booties and set them in the corner. I scanned the maps in my guidebook for the hundredth time that day, feeling frustrated and uncertain. At last I simply gave up and devoured a hundred pages of Lolita, sinking into its awful and hilarious reality so thoroughly that I forgot my own.
From The Spiral Staircase: My Climb Out of Darkness (2004)
One of these was Sally, whose older sister had been a lifelong sufferer. Sally had come into the English department in my second year at the school. We became friends after I had a seizure during the staff Christmas lunch. This had been so mild that it was easy to pass it off as a faint, due to end-of-term exhaustion, but Sally knew at once what had happened. It was useful to have an ally. Teachers tend to pick up all kinds of germs and fevers from the children, and high body temperature can bring on an epileptic attack. This meant that whenever I caught one of these viruses, it took me a lot longer to recover than my colleagues. I had to take a great deal of sick leave, and this did not go unnoticed. Nor did the fact that I so often looked haggard and ill. School teaching is an extremely exhausting job: it is like doing a one-woman show, in which you are onstage for about seven hours every day. By the end of term, we all looked at death’s door. At coffee time we no longer laughed and chattered, and the head had no need to complain about the noise. We all sat around silently, staring into space like zombies. Sometimes—horror of horrors—we actually forgot to record our purchases in the Biscuit Book. My particular difficulty was that my drugs were debilitating, and this increased my natural weariness. Fatigue is one of the things that trigger my seizures, as does sleep deprivation. So it all became a vicious cycle. The more tired I was, the less resistance I had and the more flu bugs I caught from the children; the more seizures I had, the more exhausted I became. During my absence from school, Sally did a splendid PR job, elaborating on the symptoms she could mention in great detail in order to allay suspicion. And for a while our system worked well. But this could not be a long-term solution. All in all, I was beginning to miss at least six weeks a year, and even though I looked far from healthy, the head began to suspect me of malingering. Finally I came clean, and she responded perfectly, with one of those leaps of sympathy that reminded us of how humane she could be when she was not trying to control every detail of our lives. “I am so relieved,” she explained. “I can quite understand why you didn’t tell me. Of course I can. But this is something physical, something that we can work with. Far more worrying is a vague neurosis that produces psychosomatic symptoms that nobody can ever get to the bottom of!” I was an asset to the school, she said, and if I had to take time off for unavoidable illness, so be it. It was worth it—for the time being.
From Wild (2012)
I’m indebted to the many people at Knopf who believed in Wild back in the early stages and have worked to bring it into the world. I’m especially grateful to my editor, Robin Desser, who never stopped pushing me to make this the best book it could be. Thank you, Robin, for your intelligence and your kindness, for your generous spirit and your incredibly long, single-spaced letters. Without you, this book wouldn’t be what it is. Thanks also: Gabrielle Brooks, Erinn Hartman, Sarah Rothbard, Susanna Sturgis, and LuAnn Walther. A deep bow to my children, Carver and Bobbi Lindstrom, who endured with grace and good humor all those times I had to go off alone to write. They never let me forget that life and love matter most. Thanks also to my stellar writers’ group: Chelsea Cain, Monica Drake, Diana Page Jordan, Erin Leonard, Chuck Palahniuk, Suzy Vitello Soulé, Mary Wysong-Haeri, and Lidia Yuknavitch. I’m indebted to each of you for your wise counsel, honest feedback, and killer pinot noir. I’m deeply grateful to the friends who have nurtured and loved me. There are too many to name. I can only say you know who you are and I’m so fortunate you’re in my life. There are some people I’d like to thank in particular, however—those who helped me in specific and numerous ways as I wrote this book: Sarah Berry, Ellen Urbani, Margaret Malone, Brian Padian, Laurie Fox, Bridgette Walsh, Chris Lowenstein, Sarah Hart, Garth Stein, Aimee Hurt, Tyler Roadie, and Hope Edelman. I’m humbled by your friendship and kindness. Thanks also to Arthur Rickydoc Flowers, George Saunders, Mary Caponegro, and Paulette Bates Alden, whose early mentorship and endless goodwill has meant the world to me. Thank you to Wilderness Press for publishing the guidebooks that were and still are the definitive texts for those hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. Without the guidebooks’ authors Jeffrey P. Schaffer, Ben Schifrin, Thomas Winnett, Ruby Jenkins, and Andy Selters, I’d have been utterly lost. Most of the people I met on the PCT passed only briefly through my life, but I was enriched by each of them. They made me laugh, they made me think, they made me go on another day, and most of all, they made me trust entirely in the kindness of strangers. I am particularly indebted to my fellow 1995 PCT alumni CJ McClellan, Rick Topinka, Catherine Guthrie, and Joshua O’Brien, who responded to my inquiries with thoughtful care. Lastly, I would like to remember my friend Doug Wisor, whom I wrote about in this book. He died on October 16, 2004, at the age of thirty-one. He was a good man who crossed the river too soon. Miigwech. BOOKS BURNED ON THE PCTThe Pacific Crest Trail, Volume 1: California, Jeffrey P. Schaffer, Thomas Winnett, Ben Schifrin, and Ruby Jenkins. Fourth edition, Wilderness Press, January 1989. Staying Found: The Complete Map and Compass Handbook, June Fleming. *The Dream of a Common Language, Adrienne Rich.
From Wild (2012)
I’m indebted to the many people at Knopf who believed in Wild back in the early stages and have worked to bring it into the world. I’m especially grateful to my editor, Robin Desser, who never stopped pushing me to make this the best book it could be. Thank you, Robin, for your intelligence and your kindness, for your generous spirit and your incredibly long, single-spaced letters. Without you, this book wouldn’t be what it is. Thanks also: Gabrielle Brooks, Erinn Hartman, Sarah Rothbard, Susanna Sturgis, and LuAnn Walther. A deep bow to my children, Carver and Bobbi Lindstrom, who endured with grace and good humor all those times I had to go off alone to write. They never let me forget that life and love matter most. Thanks also to my stellar writers’ group: Chelsea Cain, Monica Drake, Diana Page Jordan, Erin Leonard, Chuck Palahniuk, Suzy Vitello Soulé, Mary Wysong-Haeri, and Lidia Yuknavitch. I’m indebted to each of you for your wise counsel, honest feedback, and killer pinot noir. I’m deeply grateful to the friends who have nurtured and loved me. There are too many to name. I can only say you know who you are and I’m so fortunate you’re in my life. There are some people I’d like to thank in particular, however—those who helped me in specific and numerous ways as I wrote this book: Sarah Berry, Ellen Urbani, Margaret Malone, Brian Padian, Laurie Fox, Bridgette Walsh, Chris Lowenstein, Sarah Hart, Garth Stein, Aimee Hurt, Tyler Roadie, and Hope Edelman. I’m humbled by your friendship and kindness. Thanks also to Arthur Rickydoc Flowers, George Saunders, Mary Caponegro, and Paulette Bates Alden, whose early mentorship and endless goodwill has meant the world to me. Thank you to Wilderness Press for publishing the guidebooks that were and still are the definitive texts for those hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. Without the guidebooks’ authors Jeffrey P. Schaffer, Ben Schifrin, Thomas Winnett, Ruby Jenkins, and Andy Selters, I’d have been utterly lost. Most of the people I met on the PCT passed only briefly through my life, but I was enriched by each of them. They made me laugh, they made me think, they made me go on another day, and most of all, they made me trust entirely in the kindness of strangers. I am particularly indebted to my fellow 1995 PCT alumni CJ McClellan, Rick Topinka, Catherine Guthrie, and Joshua O’Brien, who responded to my inquiries with thoughtful care. Lastly, I would like to remember my friend Doug Wisor, whom I wrote about in this book. He died on October 16, 2004, at the age of thirty-one. He was a good man who crossed the river too soon. Miigwech. BOOKS BURNED ON THE PCTThe Pacific Crest Trail, Volume 1: California, Jeffrey P. Schaffer, Thomas Winnett, Ben Schifrin, and Ruby Jenkins. Fourth edition, Wilderness Press, January 1989. Staying Found: The Complete Map and Compass Handbook, June Fleming. *The Dream of a Common Language, Adrienne Rich.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
3. "But the faithful should accustom themselves to such a contempt of the present life, as may not generate either hatred of life or ingratitude towards God himself. For this life, though it is replete with innumerable miseries, is yet deservedly reckoned among the divine blessings which must not be despised. Wherefore if we discover nothing of the divine beneficence in it, we are already guilty of no small ingratitude towards God himself. But to the faithful especially it should be a testimony of the divine benevolence, since the whole of it is destined to the advancement of their salvation. For before he openly discovers to us the inheritance of eternal glory, he intends to reveal himself as our Father in inferior instances; and those are the benefits which he daily confers on us. Since this life, then, is subservient to a knowledge of the divine goodness, shall we fastidiously scorn it as though it contained no particle of goodness in it? We must, therefore, have this sense and affection, to class it among the bounties of the divine benignity which are not to be rejected. For if Scripture testimonies were wanting, which are very numerous and clear, even nature itself exhorts us to give thanks to the Lord for having introduced us to the light of life, for granting us the use of it, and giving us all the helps necessary to its preservation. And it is a far superior reason for gratitude, if we consider that here we are in some measure prepared for the glory of the heavenly kingdom. For the Lord has ordained that they who are to be hereafter crowned in heaven, must first engage in conflicts on earth, that they may not triumph without having surmounted the difficulties of warfare and obtained the victory. Another reason is, that here we begin in various blessings to taste the sweetness of the divine benignity, that our hope and desire may be excited after the full revelation of it. When we have come to this conclusion, that our life in this world is a gift of the divine clemency, which as we owe it to him, we ought to remember with gratitude, it will then be time for us to descend to a consideration of its most miserable condition, that we may be delivered from excessive cupidity, to which, as has been observed, we are naturally inclined ....
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
The importance of the subject demands a preliminary explanation of the idea of sacrifice, and a clear discrimination of its original Christian form from its later perversion by tradition. The idea of sacrifice is the centre of all ancient religions, both the heathen and the Jewish. In Christianity it is fulfilled. For by His one perfect sacrifice on the cross Christ has entirely blotted out the guilt of man, and reconciled him with the righteous God. On the ground of this sacrifice of the eternal High Priest, believers have access to the throne of grace, and may expect their prayers and intercessions to be heard. With this perfect and eternally availing sacrifice the Eucharist stands in indissoluble connection. It is indeed originally a sacrament and the main thing in it is that which we receive from God, not that which we give to God. The latter is only a consequence of the former; for we can give to God nothing which we have not first received from him. But the Eucharist is the sacramentum of a sacrificium, the thankful celebration of the sacrificial death of Christ on the cross, and the believing participation or the renewed appropriation of the fruits of this sacrifice. In other words, it is a feast on a sacrifice. "As oft as ye do eat this bread and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord’s death till He come." The Eucharist is moreover, as the name itself implies, on the part of the church a living and reasonable thank-offering, wherein she presents herself anew,
From Bold Move
The professional front : First and foremost, I am forever thankful to the clients who have trusted their lives to my care. You have taught me more about the world than you can ever imagine. Your vulnerability and trust during our work together humbles me. Second, although I have shared a lot of challenges about my academic career at MGH/HMS, it is really important to me that I also thank the people who, throughout this process, have stood by me, cheered me on, allowed me to grow into my full “Latina self,” and cherished my boldness, even at times when I myself didn’t see it. I am thankful to each of you. Derri Shtasel : You have been my professional and personal true north for the past thirteen years. I have cried as often as I have laughed with you, and through my own developmental journey as a professional and a human, you have been the anchor that allowed me to always be me. I just love you so much and can’t thank you enough for your kindness. Maurizio Fava : You have continued to surprise me as our chief. At each of my own crossroads in our department, you have stepped in and fought for fairness and equality whenever you were needed. I am thankful for your support while I wrote this book and also for you encouraging me to use my own voice, without oppression. Guardia Banister : What a blessing it was when you came into my life. The best thing you ever asked me was, “Are you being your best self?” I was not, and that was not acceptable for you. I am so glad you created space for me to transform into my full self. I would like to also thank the MGH Research Scholars program, which has recently funded a lot of my work training paraprofessionals in CBT, and especially the Rappaport Foundation for generously funding my MGH scholar work. Your generous support has ensured that hundreds of youth receive mental care aid through our training program. I also want to thank Mrs. Barbara Dalio and the CTOP team, who supported my work in CT, bringing many of these skills to organizations working with inner city youth. Your generosity and mission-driven work is an inspiration to me. Finally, the feedback village : Thank you to all of you who read early chapters, provided feedback, and ensured that we could get to a solid manuscript. Your suggestions, challenges, and edits are why I think this book is great (or may I even say exceptional?): Derri Shtasel , Ludmilla Ferreira , Gustavo Ferreira , Jennifer Duan , Dean Travers , and Laurel Zepeda . NotesINTRODUCTION Am I Enough? 1 . J. J. Gross, “Emotion Regulation: Current Status and Future Prospects,” Psychological Inquiry 26, no. 1 (2015): 1–26. 2 . J. S. Beck, Cognitive Behavior Therapy: Basics and Beyond (New York: Guilford Publications, 2020); S. G. Hofmann, A. Asnaani, I. J. Vonk, A.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
Benedict had no presentiment of the vast historical importance, which this rule, originally designed simply for the cloister of Monte Cassino, was destined to attain. He probably never aspired beyond the regeneration and salvation of his own soul and that of his brother monks, and all the talk of later Catholic historians about his far-reaching plans of a political and social regeneration of Europe, and the preservation and promotion of literature and art, find no support whatever in his life or in his rule. But he humbly planted a seed, which Providence blessed a hundredfold. By his rule he became, without his own will or knowledge, the founder of an order, which, until in the thirteenth century the Dominicans and Franciscans pressed it partially into the background, spread with great rapidity over the whole of Europe, maintained a clear supremacy, formed the model for all other monastic orders, and gave to the Catholic church an imposing array of missionaries, authors, artists, bishops, archbishops, cardinals, and popes, as Gregory the Great and Gregory VII. In less than a century after the death of Benedict, the conquests of the barbarians in Italy, Gaul, Spain were reconquered for civilization, and the vast territories of Great Britain, Germany, and Scandinavia incorporated into Christendom, or opened to missionary labor; and in this progress of history the monastic institution, regulated and organized by Benedict’s rule, bears an honorable share. Benedict himself established a second cloister in the vicinity of Terracina, and two of his favorite disciples, Placidus and St. Maurus,387 introduced the "holy rule," the one into Sicily, the other into France. Pope Gregory the Great, himself at one time a Benedictine monk, enhanced its prestige, and converted the Anglo-Saxons to the Roman Christian faith, by Benedictine monks. Gradually the rule found so general acceptance both in old and in new institutions, that in the time of Charlemagne it became a question, whether there were any monks at all, who were not Benedictines. The order, it is true, has degenerated from time to time, through the increase of its wealth and the decay of its discipline, but its fostering care of religion, of humane studies, and of the general civilization of Europe, from the tilling of the soil to the noblest learning, has given it an honorable place in history and won immortal praise. He who is familiar with the imposing and venerable tomes of the Benedictine editions of the Fathers, their thoroughly learned prefaces, biographies, antiquarian dissertations, and indexes, can never think of the order of the Benedictines without sincere regard and gratitude. The patronage of learning, however, as we have already said, was not within the design of the founder or his rule.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
The good abbot, after describing the loss of the chapel, infirmary, and other parts of the buildings, went on to say "our cellar and the very casks, full of beer, were also burnt up."1206 Catalogues are preserved from this period. Edwards gives a list of thirty-three mediaeval catalogues of English libraries.1207 The catalogue of Prüfening in Salzburg, 1158, prepared by, "one who was a born librarian,"1208 arranged the volumes in three classes: copies of the Scriptures, the Fathers, and modern writers. The books, most frequently found, were the Bible, or parts of it, the liturgical books,—Augustine, Gregory the Great, Jerome, and Ambrose,—and among the writers of the Carlovingian age, Bede and Alcuin. The catalogue of Corbie, Picardy, dating from the twelfth century, gives 39 copies of Augustine, 16 of Jerome, 13 of Bede, 15 of Boethius, and 5 of Cicero, as well as copies of Terence, Livy, Pliny, and Seneca.1209 Of later mediaeval writers, the works of Anselm, Bernard, Hugo, and Abaelard are found most often, but many collections were without a single recent writer. The otherwise rich collection of St. Michelsberg, in Bamberg, had only a single recent work, the Meditations of Anselm. The Prüfening library had a copy each, of Anselm, Hugo, Abaelard, the Lombard and Gratian. Classical authors were common. The library at Durham had copies of Cicero, Terence, Virgil, Horace, Claudian, Statius, Sallust, Suetonius, Quintilian and other Latin authors.1210 Sometimes the classics were catalogued by themselves as at Neumünster. Gifts of books were regarded as worthy benefactions. Peter, bishop of Paris, before starting out for the Holy Land, gave 300 works over to the care of the convent of St. Victor.1211 Grosseteste willed his collection to the Oxford Franciscans.1212 Gerbert, afterwards Sylvester II., says that the liberality of friends enabled him to buy a number of books in Rome, Italy, and Flanders.1213 The admiring chronicler treats it as a claim to fame, that Theodoric secured, for his abbey of St. Evroult, the books of the Old and New Testaments and an entire set of Gregory the Great. Others followed his good example and secured the works of Jerome, Augustine, Ambrose, and other Fathers.1214 Peter the Venerable declared that at Cluny books, notably the works of Augustine, were held more precious than gold.1215 Libraries were sometimes given with the stipulation that the books should be loaned out. This was the case with Jacob of Carnarius who, in 1234, gave his library to the Dominicans of Vercelli on this condition. In 1270, Stephen, at one time archdeacon of Canterbury, donated his books to Notre Dame, Paris, on condition of their being loaned to poor theological students, and Peter of Joigny, 1297, bequeathed his collection directly to poor students.1216 In the following century Petrarch left his books to St. Marks, Venice, and Boccaccio willed his possessions of this kind to the Augustinian friars of Florence.
From Tipping the Velvet (1998)
I believe he felt sorry for me - or maybe it was just the coincidence of our sisters’ names that warmed him to me - anyway, he began to look out a little for me, and to give me tips and cautions. We would sometimes meet up at the coffee-stalls of Leicester Square, and have a little boast, or grumble, about our fortunes. And while we talked his eyes would be darting, darting, darting all about, looking for new customers, or old ones, or for sweethearts and friends.‘Polly Shaw,’ he would say, inclining his head as some slight young man tripped by us, smiling. ‘A daisy, an absolute daisy, but never let her talk you into lending her a quid.’ Or, less kindly: ‘My eyes! but doesn’t that puss always land with her nose in the cream!’ as another boy drew up in a hansom, and disappeared into the Alhambra on the arm of a gentleman with a red silk lining to his cape.Finally, of course, his drifting gaze would settle and harden, and he would give a little nod, or wink, and hastily put down his cup. ‘Whoops!’ he would say, ‘I see a porter who wants to punch Sweet Alice’s ticket. Adieu, cherie. A thousand kisses on your marvellous eyes!’ He would touch his fingertip to his lips, then lightly press it to the sleeve of my jacket; then I would see him picking his careful way across the crowded square to the fellow who had gestured to him.When he asked me, early on, what my name was, I answered: Kitty. [image "014" file=wate_9781101078198_oeb_014_r1.jpg] It was Sweet Alice who introduced me to the various renter types, and explained to me their costumes, and their habits, and their skills. Foremost amongst them, of course, were the mary-annes, the other boys like himself, who could be seen strolling up and down the Haymarket at any time of the day or night, with their lips rouged and their throats powdered, and clad in trousers as tight and revealing, almost, as a ballerina’s fleshings. These boys took their customers to lodging-houses and hotels; their aim was to be spotted by some manly young gentleman or lord and set up as his mistress in apartments of their own. More succeeded in this ambition than you might think.Then again, there were the more ordinary-looking fellows, the clerks and shop-boys: they rather despised the mary-annes, and went with gentlemen - or so they claimed - for the money rather than for the thrill of it; some of them, I believe, even kept wives and sweethearts. The aristocracy or leading men of this particular branch of the profession were the guardsmen: it had been as one of these that I had costumed myself, when I had donned that scarlet uniform - all innocently, of course, for I had known nothing of their reputation in this direction, then. These men, I was assured, were cock-handlers and -suckers, almost exclusively.
From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)
25. I am loved. “This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” (1 John 4:9–10) If that list doesn’t inspire you to pray with more confidence, I don’t know what will! I could easily have listed another twenty-five statements about who we are in Christ and how God sees us. The Bible has so much to say about the premises for our prayers. The next time you pray, take a few minutes to go through the list above. Get rid of the God-is-my-dentist mentality and trust that He is your friend, your Father, your Savior. Pray with a smile on your face, because when God hears your voice, He smiles too. If you pray according to the Bible, you’ll pray from the unshakeable premises of God’s love, grace, and calling, not for them. You’ll be bold and confident and full of faith. You’ll ask for anything and pray about everything. FIVE I’d rather be at the beach Prayer and perspective I live in LA, which is famous for its beaches and its traffic. It’s known for many other things too—street tacos, palm trees, movie stars . . . But beaches and traffic always top the list. Can you imagine two more opposite experiences than reclining under an umbrella while you sip the drink of your choice on Malibu Beach, versus white- knuckling it through rush-hour traffic on a twelve-lane LA freeway? One inspires relaxation, gratitude, peace. The other makes you question your sanity. There is something about the ocean that heals my soul. Not necessarily getting into the ocean. There are terrifying creatures in there that I’d prefer not to disturb. Plus, sand is . . . sandy. But watching and listening to the ocean? That’s my happy place. The American poet e.e. cummings wrote, “It’s always ourselves we find in the sea.” 1 The waves never stop. They roll in, one after the other, day after day, night after night, unbothered by the stress and chaos of the humans on land. Their rhythm is relaxing. Comforting. Grounding. When you gaze out over the ocean, the sense of scale is awe-inspiring. Blue and green water dominates the view as far as you can see. And the expanse in front of you is just a tiny corner of a body of water that stretches around the globe, touching islands and continents you’ll never visit. In the distance, where the sky
From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)
(1 Corinthians 10:13) I am part of the body of Christ.“Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.” (1 Corinthians 12:27) I live by faith, and Jesus lives in me.“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20) I am blessed.“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ.” (Ephesians 1:3) I am redeemed and forgiven.“In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace.” (Ephesians 1:7) I am God’s handiwork, created to do good.“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:10) I know God will finish the work He started in me.“Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:6) I am provided for by God. “And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:19) I am powerful, loving, and self-disciplined.“For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.” (2 Timothy 1:7) I have full access to the throne of grace.“Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” (Hebrews 4:16) I am a child of God.“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1) I am loved.“This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” (1 John 4:9–10) If that list doesn’t inspire you to pray with more confidence, I don’t know what will! I could easily have listed another twenty-five statements about who we are in Christ and how God sees us. The Bible has so much to say about the premises for our prayers. The next time you pray, take a few minutes to go through the list above. Get rid of the God-is-my-dentist mentality and trust that He is your friend, your Father, your Savior. Pray with a smile on your face, because when God hears your voice, He smiles too.
From Bold Move
Why? Because I hadn’t accounted for a business trip I had to take, which meant I had to really adjust that week. Stuff Happens, Values Change, Boldness ContinuesThere are two points about Aligning that I want to highlight. First, life happens! All of us will be thrown curveballs, but it is what we do with them that tends to dictate our success. I adjusted that week for my writing plan, waking up earlier while on the trip to write, thus ensuring my commitment. That was challenging and not really “achievable.” So if you hit a major bump in the road—a work trip, your kid gets sick, your loved one needs your attention—go back to the drawing board, check in with your values, envision where you want to end up, and revise your plan. And that is the second point: sometimes we fail our bold plans because external situations force us to shift the value that we are prioritizing (after all, values do clash). In fact, as I was working on this book, there were two weeks where I just threw these steps out the window because my entire family got COVID. I share this with you to ensure you are kind with yourself as you go about setting these plans in place. Yes, you must be disciplined with yourself, but you also must be realistic. Just be real with yourself and err on the side of making this a reality. Nobody is going to force you to live a more meaningful life, so you have to be your own accountability coach here. (Although, if you do have a friend who is going through a similar process, an accountability buddy is a tremendous resource.) Now, when I compare how I feel on a day when I live in line with my values and get my ass to the gym to a day where I make another excuse to leave my running shoes in the closet, the difference is stark. Put simply: one of those days is awesome; the other one feels crappy. I’m sure you can guess which is which. If you consider a day in which your actions are more in line with your values and contrast that with a day where you don’t end up doing any of the things that matter most to you, how do you feel? I think you get the idea of why this is an important skill to learn. It’s the difference between going to bed fulfilled versus stressing out because each day just bleeds into the next with nothing meaningful to provide the kind of satisfaction and texture that make a life worth living.
From A Theology for the Social Gospel (1918)
# Vela PD acquisition (ASN-1356) # code: RAUTSG # title: A Theology for the Social Gospel # author: Walter Rauschenbusch # year: 1917 # source: https://archive.org/download/in.ernet.dli.2015.30677/2015.30677.A-Theology-For-The-Social-Gospel_djvu.txt # pd_reasoning: Pre-1929 US publication; Rauschenbusch died 1918. Plain text on Internet Archive (in.ernet.dli.2015.30677, 1917/1918 ed.). A THEOLOGY FOR THE SOCIAL GOSPEL THE MACMILLAN COMPANY MBW YORK • BOSTON > CHICAGO • DAUAS ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO.» Lxiiitbd LONX>ON • BOMBAY • CALCITITA BfBLBOUBMB THE MACMILLAN CO. OP CANADA. Lm TORONTO A THEOLOGY FOR THE SOCIAL GOSPEL BY WALTER RAUSCHENBUSCH Author of ^^Christianity and the Social Crisis,’* ’’Christianizing the Social Order,” ‘‘Prayers of the Social Awakening,” "The Social Principles of Jesus,” etc Nm fork THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1918 A,U righU reserved OoPTXiaHT, IMT, By the MACMILULN COMPANY. Set up and electrotyped. Published November, ipxy* Reprinted February, X918. NoTtDooh Press ; Berwick 9t Smith Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED WITH REVERENCE AND GRATITUDE TO AUGUSTUS HOPKINS STRONG FOR FORTY YEARS ’'RESIDENT OF ROCHESTER THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, MY TEACHER, COLLEAGUE. FRIEND, HUMANIST AND LOVER OF POETRY, A THEOLOGIAN WHOSE BEST BELOVED DOCTRINl HAS BEEN THE MYSTIC UNION WITH CHRIST FOREWORD In April, 1917, I had the honour of delivering four lectures on the Nathaniel W. Taylor Foundation before the Annual Convocation of the Yale School of Religion. These lectures are herewith presented in elaborated form. The Taylor Lectures are expected to deal with some theme in Doctrinal Theology, but the Faculty in their in- vitation indicated that a discussion of some phase of the social problem would be welcome. I have tried to obey this suggestion and still to remain well within the original purpose of the Foundation by taking as my subject, '' A Theology for the Social Gospel.” Of my qualifications for this subject I have reason to think modestly, for I am not a doctrinal theologian either by professional training or by personal habits of mind. Professional duty and intellectual liking have made me a teacher of Church History, and the events of my life, interpreted by my religious experiences, have laid the social problems on my mind. On the other hand, it may be that the necessity of approaching systematic theology from the outside may be of real advantage. Theology has often received its most fruitful impulses when secu- lar life and movements have set it new problems. Of the subject itself I have no cause to speak modestly. Its consideration is of the highest importance for the future of theology and religion. It bristles with intel- FOREWORD lectual problems. This book had to be written some time, and as far as I know, nobody has yet written it. I offer my attempt until some other man comes along who can plough deeper and straighter.
From Bold Move
And of course, to my stepdad, Luiz Fernando Esteves Martins, you have been more of a father to me than any father could ever be. I am very thankful for your eternal support, from the beginning of your relationship with my mom, but even more since you are no longer together. Through the years you have stood by me as a real dad does, and for that I am very grateful. The life journey front : Although this book is as far from a memoir as it gets, the feeling I had writing it was what I imagine a writer might have at the conclusion of their memoir: a sense of looking over the arc of their life from thirty thousand feet up. With that point of view, I would be remiss if I didn’t thank pivotal people who supported my journey. The tribe in Governador Valadares who supported us through the early age when things were challenging, I am very thankful to each of you. My dear friends who were also pivotal in my development, you know who you are, and you are in my heart! Book front : Although this book is a culmination of many years of research, clinical work, community work, and my own life experience, it would not have been possible without the persuasion of my dear friend and colleague Anna Bartuska . Anna, I am so thankful that you saw in me what I had not seen. Thank you for pushing me to Approach . I’m so grateful that we made this book together. I can’t wait to see how your amazing journey will turn out, and I will be there every step to support you! Greg White : Ticking time bombs, iguanas, and the like—your ability to elevate my writing to make it digestible to humans is just incredible. I hope to have you along for every book I ever write (Bold Move 2: Bold and Furious; Bold Move 3: More Bolder, More Mover ). Chris West : The narrative clarity you brought to this book was invaluable. You helped me clarify the shape of this project and guided me toward my own bold move—thank you! Dan Harris : Thank you for pushing me to write this book. I know it was only one sentence of encouragement, but you opened doors and supported me through the process with kindness and generosity. Mel Flashman : What can I say? You are the best literary agent I could have asked for. Thank you for moving me toward my dreams. HarperCollins : Thanks to everyone on the publishing team, and most importantly to Elizabeth (Biz) Mitchell and Ghjulia Romiti . Thanks for believing in Bold Move and for providing endless feedback while supporting my journey to the end. Your editorial support was key to ensuring this book is all it can be.
From The Confessions of Saint Augustine (354)
I hear the voice of my God commanding, Let not your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness. Drunkenness is far from me; Thou wilt have mercy, that it come not near me. But full feeding sometimes creepeth upon Thy servant; Thou wilt have mercy, that it may be far from me. For no one can be continent unless Thou give it. Many things Thou givest us, praying for them; and what good soever we have received before we prayed, from Thee we received it; yea to the end we might afterwards know this, did we before receive it. Drunkard was I never, but drunkards have I known made sober by Thee. From Thee then it was, that they who never were such, should not so be, as from Thee it was, that they who have been, should not ever so be; and from Thee it was, that both might know from Whom it was. I heard another voice of Thine, Go not after thy lusts, and from thy pleasure turn away. Yea by Thy favour have I heard that which I have much loved; neither if we eat, shall we abound; neither if we eat not, shall we lack; which is to say, neither shall the one make me plenteous, nor the other miserable. I heard also another, for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content; I know how to abound, and how to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth me. Behold a soldier of the heavenly camp, not the dust which we are. But remember, Lord, that we are dust, and that of dust Thou hast made man; and he was lost and is found. Nor could he of himself do this, because he whom I so loved, saying this through the in-breathing of Thy inspiration, was of the same dust. I can do all things (saith he) through Him that strengtheneth me. Strengthen me, that I can. Give what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. He confesses to have received, and when he glorieth, in the Lord he glorieth. Another have I heard begging that he might receive. Take from me (saith he) the desires of the belly; whence it appeareth, O my holy God, that Thou givest, when that is done which Thou commandest to be done.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
23. Septimius Praetextatus Caecilianus, servant of God, who has led a worthy life. If I have served Thee [O Lord], I have not repented, and I will give thanks to Thy name. He gave up his soul to God (at the age of) thirty-three years and six months. [In the crypt of St. Cecilia in St. Callisto. Probably a member of some noble family, the third name is mutilated. De Rossi assigns this epitaph to the beginning of the third century.] 24. Cornelius. Martyr. Ep. [iscopus]. II. The Autun Inscription. This Greek inscription was discovered A.D. 1839 in the cemetery Saint Pierre l’Estrier near Autun (Augustodunum, the ancient capital of Gallia Aeduensis), first made known by Cardinal Pitra, and thoroughly discussed by learned archaeologists of different countries. See the Spicilegium Solesmense (ed. by Pitra), vols. I.-III., Raf. Garrucci, Monuments d’ epigraphie ancienne, Paris 1856, 1857; P. Lenormant, Mémoire sur l’ inscription d’ Autun, Paris 1855; H. B. Marriott, The Testimony of the Catacombs, Lond. 1870, pp. 113–188. The Jesuit fathers Secchi and Garrucci find in it conclusive evidence of transubstantiation and purgatory, but Marriott takes pains to refute them. Comp. also Schultze, Katak. p. 118. The Ichthys-symbol figures prominently in the inscription, and betrays an early origin, but archaeologists differ: Pitra, Garrucci and others assign it to A.D. 160–202; Kirchhoff, Marriott, and Schultze, with greater probability, to the end of the fourth or the beginning of the fifth century, Lenormant and Le Blant to the fifth or sixth. De Rossi observes that the characters are not so old as the ideas which they express. The inscription has some gaps which must be filled out by conjecture. It is a memorial of Pectorius to his parents and friends, in two parts; the first six lines are an acrostic (Ichthys), and contain words of the dead (probably the mother); in the second part the son speaks. The first seems to be older. Schultze conjectures that it is an old Christian hymn. The inscription begins with jIcquvo" a [ujranivou a{g] ion [or perhaps qei'on] gevno", and concludes with mnhvseo Pektorivou, who prepared the monument for his parents. The following is the translation (partly conjectural) of Marriott (l.c. 118): ’Offspring of the heavenly Ichthys, see that a heart of holy reverence be thine, now that from Divine waters thou hast received, while yet among mortals, a fount of life that is to immortality. Quicken thy soul, beloved one, with ever-flowing waters of wealth-giving wisdom, and receive the honey-sweet food of the Saviour of the saints. Eat with a longing hunger, holding Ichthys in thine hands.’ ’To Ichthys ... Come nigh unto me, my Lord [and] Saviour [be thou my Guide] I entreat Thee, Thou Light of them for whom the hour of death is past.’ ’Aschandius, my Father, dear unto mine heart, and thou [sweet Mother, and all] that are mine ... remember Pectorius.’ § 87. Lessons of the Catacombs.