Hope

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.

Page 59 of 216 · 20 per page

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

  Other states with very large death-row populations, like California and Pennsylvania, have declared moratoriums on executions. Support for the death penalty is waning even as people are still being executed. The fifty-year trend of annual increases in the jail and prison population in the United States that began in the 1970s has ended. In the last five years, we have seen declines in the number of people jailed or imprisoned in America, although our nation still has the highest rate of incarceration in the world. In the last ten years, twenty states have banned life imprisonment without parole sentences for children, and nearly one thousand people who were condemned to die in prison for crimes they were accused of committing when they were children have been released. It is the great joy of my career these days that I frequently travel and have someone come up to me and say, “Hey man, I’m one of your guys! I was a juvenile lifer who was supposed to die in prison, but now I’m here with you.” We then usually embrace. The encounter changes my day and lifts my spirits in ways that are hard to measure. Many of the young people you’ll read about in this book have since been released. Some even work on my staff now. But there have been worrisome developments, too. In 2020, after several heartbreaking killings of unarmed Black people by police attracted international attention, there seemed to be a new appreciation of the racial bias that undermines the administration of justice in the United States. In the midst of a global pandemic, police violence sparked protests and an unprecedented focus on confronting racial injustice that compromises our nation’s legal system. Today, however, a bitter backlash has emerged and many states have retreated from efforts to overcome the problems created by racial bias. Some states have passed laws to restrict educators from teaching about our history of racial bigotry and discrimination. Books about Rosa Parks and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. have been banned by school boards. Programs and initiatives designed to improve racial and gender diversity have been struck down by the U.S. Supreme Court. The politics of fear and anger has re-emerged, and narratives that fuel bigotry, violence, and hate seem to gain ever more prominence on social media and in the public sphere. I’m proud that we have now opened three cultural sites in Montgomery, Alabama, to foster truth-telling about our history of racial injustice. Each week, thousands of people come to the Equal Justice Initiative’s National Memorial for Peace and Justice, which memorializes victims of lynching in America, and many visitors are visibly moved by what they discover. At our Legacy Museum, which explores the evolution of unjust racial bigotry from slavery until today, visitors seem to understand things that they did not learn in school.

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

  Whether it was fitting that Christ should be transfigured?Objection 1: It would seem that it was not fitting that Christ should be transfigured. For it is not fitting for a true body to be changed into various shapes [figuras], but only for an imaginary body. Now Christ’s body was not imaginary, but real, as stated above ([4222]Q[5], A[1]). Therefore it seems that it should not have been transfigured. Objection 2: Further, figure is in the fourth species of quality, whereas clarity is in the third, since it is a sensible quality. Therefore Christ’s assuming clarity should not be called a transfiguration. Objection 3: Further, a glorified body has four gifts, as we shall state farther on ([4223]XP, Q[82]), viz. impassibility, agility, subtlety, and clarity. Therefore His transfiguration should not have consisted in an assumption of clarity rather than of the other gifts. On the contrary, It is written (Mat. 17:2) that Jesus “was transfigured” in the presence of three of His disciples. I answer that, Our Lord, after foretelling His Passion to His disciples, had exhorted them to follow the path of His sufferings (Mat. 16:21, 24). Now in order that anyone go straight along a road, he must have some knowledge of the end: thus an archer will not shoot the arrow straight unless he first see the target. Hence Thomas said (Jn. 14:5): “Lord, we know not whither Thou goest; and how can we know the way?” Above all is this necessary when hard and rough is the road, heavy the going, but delightful the end. Now by His Passion Christ achieved glory, not only of His soul, not only of His soul, which He had from the first moment of His conception, but also of His body; according to Luke (24:26): “Christ ought [Vulg.: ‘ought not Christ’] to have suffered these things, and so to enter into His glory (?).” To which glory He brings those who follow the footsteps of His Passion, according to Acts 14:21: “Through many tribulations we must enter into the kingdom of God.” Therefore it was fitting that He should show His disciples the glory of His clarity (which is to be transfigured), to which He will configure those who are His; according to Phil. 3:21: “(Who) will reform the body of our lowness configured [Douay: ‘made like’] to the body of His glory.” Hence Bede says on Mk. 8:39: “By His loving foresight He allowed them to taste for a short time the contemplation of eternal joy, so that they might bear persecution bravely.”

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

  3. Again, the Master says that hope proceeds from merits, which not only precede the thing hoped for, but precede hope itself; also that charity precedes hope in the order of nature (3 Sent., Dist. 26). Hence charity is prior to hope. On the other hand: the apostle says (I Tim. 1:5): “ Now the end of the commandment is charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, ” that is, as the gloss says, “ and of hope. ” Hope is therefore prior to charity. I answer: there are two kinds of order. There is the order of generation and of nature, according to which the imperfect is prior to the perfect. There is also the order of perfection and of form, according to which the perfect is naturally prior to the imperfect. According to the first of these orders, hope is prior to charity. This is obvious, since hope and every appetitive movement is derived from love, as we said in 12ae, Q. 55, Arts. 1 and 2, when speaking of the passions. But love may be either perfect or imperfect. Perfect love is that wherewith a thing is loved for its own sake, as for example when one wills good for someone for his own sake, as a man loves a friend. Imperfect love, on the other hand, is love wherewith one loves a thing not for its own sake, but in order that one may have the good of it for oneself, as a man loves a thing which he covets. Now perfect love pertains to charity, which adheres to God for his own sake. But imperfect love pertains to hope, since one who hopes intends to obtain something for himself. Thus according to the order of generation, hope is prior to charity. For just as a man is led to love God through desisting from sin for fear of being punished by him (Tract. 9 in Joan.), so also does hope engender charity, since one who hopes to be rewarded by God may come to love God and to obey his commandments. But charity is naturally prior according to the order of perfection. For this reason, hope is made more perfect by the presence of charity. Thus we hope supremely when we hope on behalf of our friends. It is in this way that “ hope issues from charity, ” as Ambrose says. The answer to the first point is thus obvious. On the second point: hope and every appetitive movement of the soul is derived from love of some kind, since one loves the good for which one hopes. Not every hope, however, is derived from charity, but only the movement of hope that is formed, whereby one hopes for some good from God as a friend. On the third point: the Master is speaking of hope that is formed, which is naturally preceded by charity, and also by the merits which result from charity. QUESTION EIGHTEEN

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

  On the third point: the damned are not in a state which permits of hope, since it is impossible for them to return to blessedness. That they do not hope is consequently not imputed to them as guilt, but is part of their damnation. Neither is it imputed to a wayfarer as a sin, that he despairs of something which he is not born to attain, or of something which he is not under obligation to attain. It is not a sin, for example, if a doctor despairs of curing a sick man, or if one despairs of ever becoming rich. ARTICLE TWO Whether there can be Despair without Unbelief1. It seems that there cannot be despair without unbelief. For the certainty of hope is founded on faith, and the effect cannot be removed so long as the cause remains. One cannot lose the certainty of hope through despair, therefore, unless one loses one ’ s faith. 2. Again, to put one ’ s own guilt before the goodness and mercy of God is to deny the infinite goodness or mercy of God, and this is unbelief. Now one who despairs puts his guilt before the mercy or goodness of God, in accordance with Gen. 4:13: “ My punishment is greater than I can bear. ” Anyone who despairs is therefore an unbeliever. 3. Again, anyone who falls into a condemned heresy is an unbeliever. Now one who despairs seems to fall into a condemned heresy, namely that of the Novatians, who say that sins cannot be forgiven after baptism. It seems, therefore, that anyone who despairs is an unbeliever. On the other hand: the removal of a consequent does not imply the removal of what is prior to it. Now hope is a consequence of faith, as was said in Q. 17, Art. 7. Hence faith can remain when hope is removed. It does not then follow that whosoever despairs is an unbeliever.

• From Tropic of Capricorn (1934)

  Putting two and two together one might even infer from such jolly behavior that now and then he enjoyed getting a little piece of tail—always in moderation, to be sure. That was the word that was balsam to the old man’s lacerated soul—“moderation.” It was like discovering a new sign in the zodiac. And though he was still too ill to attempt a return to even a moderate way of living, nevertheless it did his soul good. And so, when Uncle Ned, who was continually going on the water wagon and continually falling off it again, came round to the house one evening the old man delivered him a little lecture on the virtue of moderation. Uncle Ned was, at that moment, on the water wagon and so, when the old man, moved by his own words, suddenly went to the sideboard to fetch a decanter of wine every one was shocked. No one had ever dared invite Uncle Ned to drink when he had sworn off; to venture such a thing constituted a serious breach of loyalty. But the old man did it with such conviction that no one could take offense, and the result was that Uncle Ned took a small glass of wine and went home that evening without stopping off at a saloon to quench his thirst. It was an extraordinary happening and there was much talk about it for days after. In fact, Uncle Ned began to act a bit queer from that day on. It seems that he went the next day to the wine store and bought a bottle of sherry which he emptied into the decanter. He placed the decanter on the sideboard, just as he had seen the old man do, and, instead of polishing it off in one swoop, he contented himself with a glassful at a time—“just a thimbleful,” as he put it. His behavior was so remarkable that my aunt, who was unable to quite believe her eyes, came one day to the house and held a long conversation with the old man. She asked him, among other things, to invite the minister to the house some evening so that Uncle Ned might have the opportunity of falling under his beneficent influence. The long and short of it was that Ned was soon taken into the fold and, like the old man, seemed to be thriving under the experience. Things went fine until the day of the picnic. That day, unfortunately, was an unusually warm day and, what with the games, the excitement, the hilarity, Uncle Ned developed an extraordinary thirst. It was not until he was three sheets to the wind that some one observed the regularity and the frequency with which he was running to the beer keg. It was then too late. Once in that condition he was unmanageable. Even the minister could do nothing with him.

• From The History of Christianity II: From the Reformation to the Modern Megachurch (2017)

  163Lecture 17—The Second Great Awakening õDow was very savvy at drumming up interest. He would randomly appear in a town and shout that Lorenzo Dow would preach at that very spot a year from now. Then he would vanish. One year later, he would show back up, and a crowd would appear, too. He was known for shouting and insulting his audiences—anything to get their attention. õSome scholars have suggested that the townsfolk welcomed evangelists like Lorenzo Dow not because their messages were liberating or entertaining, but because they offered a way of controlling ruffians. The cities and frontier towns of the early 19 th century featured a lot of unemployed young men wandering around, spending their evenings in pubs. Revival might have been a way of getting these wanderers into line and bringing marginal people into growing churches: a way of imposing social order. SUCCESS õBy 1850, the Methodist church was the single largest Christian group in America. An important reason why these evangelists did well was that their ideas appealed to Americans. John Wesley believed that John Calvin and Martin Luther didn’t have things quite right when it came to the subject of conversion. Wesley did not believe in predestination. He believed in justification by faith alone, but he taught that any sinner, not just the elect, could reach out to accept God’s grace. õAfter conversion, he taught that a born-again Christian experiences a process called sanctification: This gradually brings them to a state of Christian perfection, and their sinful urges are suppressed. Calvin and the Puritans believed in a sanctification process too, but the emphasis on Christian perfection was distinctly Methodist. õIn Great Britain, a substantial number of Methodists stuck to a Calvinist view of predestination and human depravity. But it’s no surprise that John Wesley’s empowering and egalitarian theology took off in America; it was a perfect match for the early republic. It meant that everyone—not just some small group of the elect—was worthy of salvation, even perfection.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Join these writers on their journey. Embrace these stories for what they are: a true mirror of our inner needs, our longing to combine souls, to discover our truest selves. Explore. Fantasize. Wonder. Romance opens worlds for us. It teaches us to reach for what seems too far away. Enjoy the fight, the conflict, the growth of these characters. Romance is often called a flight of fancy, a genre in which to lose oneself, but there is a truth to romance that serves the greater good. We need to escape our day-to-day lives. We need our happy endings. We need to believe that we can be complete. Join us on this journey and let your fantasies feed a deeper truth. We are not alone. We are only whole when we truly love both ourselves and another human being. And the journey never ends…Enjoy. INTRODUCTION: SIMPLY THE BEST What does it take to be the best? That’s the question I kept in the forefront of my mind as I edited Best Erotic Romance. And so, when I sat down to sift through the submissions, I found myself reading many of the stories two or three times. It’s a complicated process, trying to determine what makes a story the very best of the genre. Obviously, excellent writing and storytelling are key, but I also looked for stories with characters I could believe in and root for. Characters I could fall in love with, just as they were falling in love (or finding ways to stay in love). I am delighted to present this inaugural collection of Best Erotic Romance, the collection that I hope will set the bar for future editions. These are the stories that touched my heart and ignited my libido, that made me think about the nature of desire and the unpredictability of the human heart. Each of these seventeen stories weaves love and passion so tightly that one cannot be separated from the other. And isn’t that what a lasting relationship is all about? The need for connection and commitment, memories and history—and hot, wanton, uninhibited sex with a partner who knows us better than we know ourselves. From tales of love (and lust) at first sight, such as Delilah Devlin’s “Drive Me Crazy” and Nikki Magennis’s “Dawn Chorus” to stories of established couples still passionate for each other, such as Andrea Dale’s “Memories for Sale” and Kate Pearce’s “Cheating Time,” the stories in this collection show that true love lasts, real passion never waivers, and lovers who are meant to be will always find their way back to each other. These lovers aren’t afraid of going after what they want, whether it’s long-lost love in “Blame It on Facebook” by Kate Dominic or a hot threesome between a married couple and a female friend in Erobintica’s “Till the Storm Breaks.”

• From The History of Christianity II: From the Reformation to the Modern Megachurch (2017)

  187Lecture 19—Slave Religion in the Americas õAfter the white authorities executed Turner, his lawyer, a white man named Thomas Gray, published a pamphlet called The Confessions of N a t Tu r n e r. It’s unclear if these were actually the words of Turner or if Gray modified them. But even if Gray shaped the text, it gives a sense of how Turner claimed divine inspiration to rally his followers. Take this passage: While laboring in the field, I discovered drops of blood on the corn ... And now the Holy Ghost had revealed itself to me, and made plain the miracles it had shown me; for as the blood of Christ had been shed on this earth, and had ascended to heaven for the salvation of sinners, [it] was now returning to earth in the form of dew. õTurner said that he told a white man about these miracles, and nasty, bloody sores immediately appeared all over the man’s body. Consider the power that story would have on other slaves listening to Turner: It was likely an appealing message of divine justice. SLAVE WORSHIP õUntil the early 19 th century, evangelical groups allowed blacks to preach to people of their own race. The Baptists licensed and ordained black men, and Methodists allowed black lay preachers until state legislatures started outlawing it in the 1810s. õAs the years passed, the slave codes in the South restricting slave behavior became more and more oppressive. The codes made it illegal for blacks to gather in meetings for worship or education. õBy the 1820s, most black Christians in the South had to be under the authority of white congregations and denominations. In theory, black Christians in the South always had a white pastor and were under the discipline of a white church.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  She was a sensual, expressive woman with a warm, playful personality. That’s what had drawn him to her, right from the moment she’d moved into the flat opposite his about six months before. He’d been attracted to her on sight, but given the age difference between them and her freshly divorced status, he didn’t think he stood a chance. He was a research student in his mid-twenties. She was an advertising executive in her early thirties. Why in the hell would she give him the time of day? But she had, and now here they were. “So, how long have you wanted to ask me on this date?” she asked as he dished the food from the platter onto her plate. “Since you moved in.” He smiled. Her eyes flashed. “And there was me thinking it was Kyle you were interested in.” Samuel lifted one shoulder. “Hey, he’s a good little gaming adversary.” It was true, but it wasn’t the whole story. Six months ago he’d started chatting with her and her seven-year-old over the mailboxes each morning. Then he’d endeavored to help her out with her garbage on a Monday. She was grateful, and she chatted amiably. Before long he’d invited Kyle over for computer game time, and Cassie had come along to cheer them on. The three of them began to visit the nearby park together, and they enjoyed long conversations about life while watching over Kyle at play. Slowly but surely Samuel’s fascination with her had grown, until the nights grew restless and he knew he would have to take a chance and make a move. When the weekend his flatmate was away coincided with the weekend that Kyle went to stay with his dad, Samuel took the chance to issue a casual invitation. Cassie had beamed, quickly affirming her intention to come over bearing wine and after-dinner mints. Now here she was in his tiny kitchenette, looking like the most sophisticated date a man could possibly wish for. When she’d walked in earlier that evening he’d nearly dropped the pan he’d been holding. The dress she wore was simple but elegant, with a low scooped neckline and a hemline that finished high on the thigh. Then there were the glossy shoes and stockings. When she’d sat down she had crossed her legs high on the thigh. He’d hardened immediately and had to turn away and pour himself a glass of water to help push the image from his mind. “Sorry, that probably came across badly,” he blurted, trying not to mess this up. “I didn’t mean to imply I was spending time with Kyle to get to you.” “Don’t worry, I didn’t think that.” She sipped her wine, then skewered a piece of Thai spiced chicken with her fork and took it to her mouth. She closed her eyes appreciatively as she ate the offering, savoring each and every morsel. That wasn’t helping him form sensible statements.

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  Now this may not make her death scenes any less touching, but it did strengthen my resolve to talk about my experiences with cancer as a Black woman. December 14, 1986 New York City It is exactly one year since I went to Switzerland and found the air cold and still. Yet what I found at the Lukas Klinik has helped me save my life. [Its manifestation is not only therapeutic. It is vital. Underlining what is joyful and life-affirming in my living becomes crucial. What have I had to leave behind? Old life habits, outgrown defenses put aside lest they siphon off energies to no useful purpose? One of the hardest things to accept is learning to live within uncertainty and neither deny it nor hide behind it. Most of all, to listen to the messages of uncertainty without allowing them to immobilize me, nor keep me from the certainties of those truths in which I believe. I turn away from any need to justify the future—to live in what has not yet been. Believing, working for what has not yet been while living fully in the present now. This is my life. Each hour is a possibility not to be banked. These days are not a preparation for living, some necessary but essentially extraneous divergence from the main course of my living. They are my life. The feeling of the bedsheet against my heels as I wake to the sound of crickets and bananaquits in Judith’s Fancy. I am living my life every particular day no matter where I am, nor in what pursuit. It is the consciousness of this that gives a marvelous breadth to everything I do consciously. My most deeply held convictions and beliefs can be equally expressed in how I deal with chemotherapy as well as in how I scrutinize a poem. It’s about trying to know who I am wherever I am. It’s not as if I’m in struggle over here while someplace else, over there, real life is waiting for me to begin living it again. I visualize daily winning the battles going on inside my body, and this is an important part of fighting for my life. In those visualizations, the cancer at times takes on the face and shape of my most implacable enemies, those I fight and resist most fiercely. Sometimes the wanton cells in my liver become Bull Connor and his police dogs completely smothered, rendered impotent in Birmingham, Alabama, by a mighty avalanche of young, determined Black marchers moving across him toward their future. P. W. Botha’s bloated face of apartheid squashed into the earth beneath an onslaught of the slow rhythmic advance of furious Blackness. Black South African women moving through my blood destroying passbooks.

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  Possibility is neither forever nor instant. It is not easy to sustain belief in its efficacy. We can sometimes work long and hard to establish one beachhead of real resistance to the deaths we are expected to live, only to have that beachhead assaulted or threatened by those canards we have been socialized to fear, or by the withdrawal of those approvals that we have been warned to seek for safety. Women see ourselves diminished or softened by the falsely benign accusations of childishness, of nonuniversality, of changeability, of sensuality. And who asks the question: Am I altering your aura, your ideas, your dreams, or am I merely moving you to temporary and reactive action? And even though the latter is no mean task, it is one that must be seen within the context of a need for true alteration of the very foundations of our lives. The white fathers told us: I think, therefore I am. The Black mother within each of us—the poet—whispers in our dreams: I feel, therefore I can be free. Poetry coins the language to express and charter this revolutionary demand, the implementation of that freedom. However, experience has taught us that action in the now is also necessary, always. Our children cannot dream unless they live, they cannot live unless they are nourished, and who else will feed them the real food without which their dreams will be no different from ours? “If you want us to change the world someday, we at least have to live long enough to grow up!” shouts the child. Sometimes we drug ourselves with dreams of new ideas. The head will save us. The brain alone will set us free. But there are no new ideas still waiting in the wings to save us as women, as human. There are only old and forgotten ones, new combinations, extrapolations and recognitions from within ourselves—along with the renewed courage to try them out. And we must constantly encourage ourselves and each other to attempt the heretical actions that our dreams imply, and so many of our old ideas disparage. In the forefront of our move toward change, there is only poetry to hint at possibility made real. Our poems formulate the implications of ourselves, what we feel within and dare make real (or bring action into accordance with), our fears, our hopes, our most cherished terrors. For within living structures defined by profit, by linear power, by institutional dehumanization, our feelings were not meant to survive. Kept around as unavoidable adjuncts or pleasant pastimes, feelings were expected to kneel to thought as women were expected to kneel to men. But women have survived. As poets. And there are no new pains.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  She walked after him quickly. “Always wanted to see Lincoln.” Truly, she never had given it a thought. She grabbed his arm. “You know, it occurs to me we never did work out our differences about Vietnam, Dave.” “You might be surprised what I—” Sarah put her finger tight to his lips. He grinned. “You’re right. You got your work cut out for you.” He took the suitcase from her hand, walked to the passenger door, and opened it. She paused for a moment, then smiled and climbed in. “You too, Big Dave.” She folded her hands in her lap. He closed the door for her. TO BE IN CLOVER Shanna Germain Down on his knees in the clover, Dustan wrapped the electric wire around the insulator, pulling it tight. In the field next to him, the wind tickled the corn, making it rustle. The shiver of the tassels sounded like a woman undressing. And when Dustan thought of a woman undressing, he always thought of Maddy. He cocked his head, listening. There was no wind today. It was bright and still as summer could be, as if the day was holding its breath, waiting. If it wasn’t the corn and wind making that sound, then it was Maddy. In another moment, he could make out the sound of her, the silky-corn swish of her sundress against her legs. He kept at the fence, letting the sound of her come to him in small waves of leg and fabric, and then the smell of her; beneath his own fresh sweat and the sweet waft of the flowering clover came her morning scent. Tomatoes off the vine. Zucchini blossoms. The tang of the marigolds she used for pest control. She came up behind him and threw her hands over his eyes, and he pretended that she’d surprised him, that he hadn’t been anticipating her arrival by sound since she’d entered the field. Her hands were rough with tiny cuts—she never wore gloves—and he reveled in the press of her palms to his eyelids, the momentary loss of light, the way her sounds and smells rose around him to block out the world. Her laughter tickled the edges of his ears. It was dangerous, the things she did, sometimes. Like blinding him while he was working with fence trimmers and electric wires. But he didn’t have the heart to quell her enthusiasm, her childish delight. At least not for his own safety. She was still laughing when he turned and lifted her a few inches off the ground. She was little but strong, half a foot shorter than him. He settled one hand on her ass, holding her up, loving the way her body filled out there, glorious curves. Not suns. Not moons or melons. Just Maddy and the sweet globes of her ass.

• From Tropic of Capricorn (1934)

  Such a man is beyond throwing bombs, beyond revolt; he wants to stop reacting, whether inertly or ferociously. This man, of all men on earth, wants the act to be a manifestation of life. If, in the realization of his terrible need, he begins to act regressively, to become unsocial, to stammer and stutter, to prove so utterly unadapted as to be incapable of earning a living, know that this man has found his way back to the womb and source of life and that tomorrow, instead of the contemptible object of ridicule which you have made of him, he will stand forth as a man in his own right and all the powers of the world will be of no avail against him. Out of the crude cipher with which he communicates from his prehistoric desk with the archaic men of the world a new language builds up which cuts through the death language of the day like wireless through a storm. There is no magic in this wave length any more than there is magic in the womb. Men are lonely and out of communication with one another because all their inventions speak only of death. Death is the automaton which rules the world of activity. Death is silent, because it has no mouth. Death has never expressed anything. Death is wonderful too—after life. Only one like myself who has opened his mouth and spoken, only one who has said Yes, Yes, Yes, and again Yes! can open wide his arms to death and know no fear. Death as a reward, yes! Death as a result of fulfillment, yes! Death as a crown and shield, yes! But not death from the roots, isolating men, making them bitter and fearful and lonely, giving them fruitless energy, filling them with a will which can only say No! The first word any man writes when he has found himself, his own rhythm, which is the life rhythm, is Yes! Everything he writes thereafter is Yes, Yes, Yes—Yes in a thousand million ways. No dynamo, no matter how huge—not even a dynamo of a hundred million dead souls—can combat one man saying Yes! The war was on and men were being slaughtered, one million, two million, five million, ten million, twenty million, finally a hundred million, then a billion, everybody, man, woman and child, down to the last one. “No!” they were shouting, “No! they shall not pass!” And yet everybody passed; everybody got a free pass, whether he shouted Yes or No.

• From The History of Christianity II: From the Reformation to the Modern Megachurch (2017)

  259Lecture 26—The Rival Gods of the Cold War õThis confident homily by a pope born and raised in Poland was not comforting to communists. This was not proof that they were on their way to building a communist utopia populated by “the new socialist man” who believed in “scientific atheism.” Poland almost seemed more Christian than ever; in fact, 93 percent of the population had been baptized. The audience even interrupted the pope by chanting, “We want God! We want God!” THE COLLAPSE OF COMMUNISM IN POLAND õThose chants are indicative of this fact: Even if Pope John Paul II was a great leader who galvanized Christians and other dissenters, he didn’t revive a dying church. It was already surprisingly vibrant when he became pope. õPoland has been damaged over the centuries, repeatedly attacked and dominated by more powerful neighbors on all sides. In this context, Catholicism became a uniquely potent part of Polish national identity. õChurch leaders in Poland had been savvy. Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński, who was a mentor to John Paul II, had worked for years to develop an understanding with the communist government. He alternated between confrontation and careful diplomacy. Even though Wyszyński had spent plenty of time in prison by the late 1970s, he had helped build a church that enjoyed more freedoms than other Christian groups in communist Europe. õMeanwhile, the Polish economy was crumbling under the strain of the Soviet system. Food shortages, price hikes, and violent strikes compelled more and more Poles to doubt their government.

• From Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (2016)

  You’d add another corrugated-iron structure onto your brick room and slowly, over years, turn that into a proper room for them as well. Now your house had two rooms. Then three. Maybe four. Slowly, over generations, you’d keep trying to get to the point where you had a home. My grandmother lived in Orlando East. She had a two-room house. Not a two-bedroom house. A two-room house. There was a bedroom, and then there was basically a living room/kitchen/everything-else room. Some might say we lived like poor people. I prefer “open plan.” My mom and I would stay there during school holidays. My aunt and cousins would be there whenever she was on the outs with Dinky. We all slept on the floor in one room, my mom and me, my aunt and my cousins, my uncle and my grandmother and my great-grandmother. The adults each had their own foam mattresses, and there was one big one that we’d roll out into the middle, and the kids slept on that. We had two shanties in the backyard that my grandmother would rent out to migrants and seasonal workers. We had a small peach tree in a tiny patch on one side of the house and on the other side my grandmother had a driveway. I never understood why my grandmother had a driveway. She didn’t have a car. She didn’t know how to drive. Yet she had a driveway. All of our neighbors had driveways, some with fancy, cast-iron gates. None of them had cars, either. There was no future in which most of these families would ever have cars. There was maybe one car for every thousand people, yet almost everyone had a driveway. It was almost like building the driveway was a way of willing the car to happen. The story of Soweto is the story of the driveways. It’s a hopeful place. — Sadly, no matter how fancy you made your house, there was one thing you could never aspire to improve: your toilet. There was no indoor running water, just one communal outdoor tap and one outdoor toilet shared by six or seven houses. Our toilet was in a corrugated-iron outhouse shared among the adjoining houses. Inside, there was a concrete slab with a hole in it and a plastic toilet seat on top; there had been a lid at some point, but it had broken and disappeared long ago. We couldn’t afford toilet paper, so on the wall next to the seat was a wire hanger with old newspaper on it for you to wipe. The newspaper was uncomfortable, but at least I stayed informed while I handled my business. The thing that I couldn’t handle about the outhouse was the flies. It was a long drop to the bottom, and they were always down there, eating on the pile, and I had an irrational, all-consuming fear that they were going to fly up and into my bum.

• From The History of Christianity II: From the Reformation to the Modern Megachurch (2017)

  358The History of Christianity II õMaybe the more fundamental reason for the Pentecostal revival is that humans seem to be instinctively religious creatures. We need something to worship, and we have trouble with the idea that death could be the end of everything. õIt’s hard to predict whether globalization will eventually bring Western- style secularization to the rest of the world, or whether “reverse missionaries” from the Global South will re-Christianize the West. But whether or not humans stop going to church, we won’t lose our desire to seek order in the universe, our curiosity about what lies beyond the material world, and our hope for the cosmic comfort that someone, or something, cares about us. SUGGESTED READING Dennett, Breaking the Spell. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. Tay lor, A Secular Age. QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER äWhat are the hazards and the benefits of using Samuel Huntington’s “clash of civilizations” model to understand conf lict between Muslims and Christians? äWhat challenges have the growth of global capitalism and secularization posed for Christians? äIf a time machine brought Savonarola and Pico della Mirandola to the 21 st century, is there a Christian community around the world where they would they feel at home? 359Bibliography Bibliography Aikman, David. Jesus in Beijing: How Christianity Is Transforming China and Changing the Global Balance of Power. Washington DC: Regnery, 2003. A rather breathless but reliable and lively account of Christianity’s recent spread in China, told through the author’s personal encounters with missionaries and political prisoners. Allen, John. Desmond Tutu: Rabble-Rouser for Peace. New York: Free Press, 2006. An authorized biography, and so decidedly uncritical, but rich with detail thanks to great access to sources. Arthur, Anthony. The Tailor-King: The Rise and Fall of the Anabaptist Kingdom of Munster. New York: St. Martin’s, 1999. A grisly and well- researched account of an apocalyptic experiment gone wrong. Bainton, Roland. Erasmus of Christendom. New York: Charles Scribner, 1969. A charming and insightful biography by one of the 20 th century’s best religious historians. Bellah, Robert, et al. Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in American Life. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1985. A best- selling, highly inf luential analysis of how religion shapes Americans’ attitudes toward democracy, community, and the good life. Benedict, Philip. Christ’s Churches Purely Formed: A Social History of Calvinism. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002. A book that tells you how church and state worked—and what life was really like—in reformed communities throughout Europe. Boyer, Paul. When Time Shall Be No More: Prophecy Belief in Modern American Culture. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992. An accessible and detailed survey of apocalyptic movements and their political inf luence in America.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  In the bathroom mirror, she saw that her hair was a tangle, her lips puffy from kisses, and her eyes sparkling from pleasure despite the circles beneath them. She pulled herself together as best she could. She had no idea where her bra had ended up, but there was nothing she could do about that right now. Shirt and skirt would suffice. She emerged to find Jane, the realtor, clutching bread mix (because the scent of baking bread was a huge lure to buyers) and fresh flowers. Ethan, meanwhile, had Bella’s bra clutched behind his back. Bless his heart. “Bella!” Jane’s astonishment was clear. “You’re here, too.” Bella gave a weak wave. “Morning, Jane.” “Well.” Jane’s voice turned brisk as she went into professional mode. “We’ll have to get things cleaned up before the open house starts. There’s already a line of cars at the end of the drive. I’ll get the bread going. The sofa cushions need to be straightened, and that candle…” “We appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” Ethan said. “But we’ve reconsidered, and we’ve decided not to sell.” “We have?” Bella asked. Her heart rose even as her stomach plummeted, her emotions in a tangle. “I’m not ready to sell,” Ethan said, taking her hand. “That would be selling all the memories we have here. I think we have a chance to make more memories. If you’re willing to try, that is.” “It won’t be easy,” Bella said cautiously. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. Communication, and all that.” Ethan drew her into his arms. “I realized something. When we’re here, we’ve never had problems talking. We were able to leave our problems behind; this was always a place where nothing else mattered except us.” Bella took a deep breath. “Take down the ‘For Sale’ sign and cancel the open house,” she said to Jane. But it was Ethan she was looking at when she said, “This isn’t for sale anymore.” BLAME IT ON FACEBOOK Kate Dominic I smoothed the front of my red silk dress and gazed out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of my twelfth-floor hotel room. Boats glided by in the marina below. I’d sworn I’d never come back to San Diego. Yet here I was, once again as alone as if I were out in the middle of the vast blue expanse of the Pacific looming beyond the breakwater. Damn, I was nervous. Despite daily Facebook posts, texts, email, and lately, phone calls, it had been twenty years since I’d seen Eric. I’d changed. I had no doubt he’d changed. The Wonderbra my college sophomore daughter had insisted I buy gave me cleavage I’d never realized I had. Everything was different. And God, when had Melissa gotten old enough to give me dating advice?

• From Best Erotic Romance

  She had no idea where her bra had ended up, but there was nothing she could do about that right now. Shirt and skirt would suffice. She emerged to find Jane, the realtor, clutching bread mix (because the scent of baking bread was a huge lure to buyers) and fresh flowers. Ethan, meanwhile, had Bella’s bra clutched behind his back. Bless his heart. “Bella!” Jane’s astonishment was clear. “You’re here, too.” Bella gave a weak wave. “Morning, Jane.” “Well.” Jane’s voice turned brisk as she went into professional mode. “We’ll have to get things cleaned up before the open house starts. There’s already a line of cars at the end of the drive. I’ll get the bread going. The sofa cushions need to be straightened, and that candle...” “We appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” Ethan said. “But we’ve reconsidered, and we’ve decided not to sell.” “We have?” Bella asked. Her heart rose even as her stomach plummeted, her emotions in a tangle. “I’m not ready to sell,” Ethan said, taking her hand. “That would be selling all the memories we have here. I think we have a chance to make more memories. If you’re willing to try, that is.” “It won’t be easy,” Bella said cautiously. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. Communication, and all that.” Ethan drew her into his arms. “I realized something. When we’re here, we’ve never had problems talking. We were able to leave our problems behind; this was always a place where nothing else mattered except us.” Bella took a deep breath. “Take down the ‘For Sale’ sign and cancel the open house,” she said to Jane. But it was Ethan she was looking at when she said, “This isn’t for sale anymore.” BLAME IT ON FACEBOOK Kate Dominic I smoothed the front of my red silk dress and gazed out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of my twelfth-floor hotel room. Boats glided by in the marina below. I’d sworn I’d never come back to San Diego. Yet here I was, once again as alone as if I were out in the middle of the vast blue expanse of the Pacific looming beyond the breakwater. Damn, I was nervous. Despite daily Facebook posts, texts, email, and lately, phone calls, it had been twenty years since I’d seen Eric. I’d changed. I had no doubt he’d changed. The Wonderbra my college sophomore daughter had insisted I buy gave me cleavage I’d never realized I had. Everything was different. And God, when had Melissa gotten old enough to give me dating advice? Not that I’d ever dated much. Not that she’d remember, anyway. Besides, I’d always considered my legs to be my best asset. I was wearing silk stockings a shade darker than my light summer tan and three-inch heels.

• From The History of Christianity II: From the Reformation to the Modern Megachurch (2017)

  281Lecture 28—Vatican II and Global Renewal õMarcos agreed to a new presidential election on February 7, 1986, which pitted him against the widow of the dead reformer, Corazon Aquino. Church leaders threw their weight behind Aquino, and when the election’s initial results showed that Marcos had won again, they denounced the results as a fraud. õAverage citizens who had held back from activism until this point had now had enough. For four days they poured into the main freeway around Manila. The crowd, including lots of priests and nuns wearing their full habits, stared down Marcos’s troops. When the leaders of the Air Force announced their support for Aquino, Marcos was finished. õVatican II didn’t directly cause the Filipino revolution. But it’s very unlikely the revolution would’ve unfolded the same way without Vatican II. SUGGESTED READING Linden, Global Catholicism. McDannell, The Spirit of Vatican II. O’Malley, What Happened at Vatican II. QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER äWhat assumptions, aims, and experiences divided bishops at the council? äHow did the challenges of Catholics in the Global South compare to those facing believers in the West? äDid Vatican II solve any problems? Did it create new ones? 282 LECTURE 29 SECULARISM AND THE DEATH OF GOD T his lecture takes a look at secularization—the process of religion losing its power and significance in society. First, this lecture tries to clear away a few myths about the notion of secularization. Then, it digs into what really has changed in Christianity’s role in the Western world over the past several centuries, and how it all came to a head in the 1960s.

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

  CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. 23. in Matt.) Now by asking, He means prayer, but by seeking, zeal and anxiety, as He adds, Seek, and ye shall find. For those things which are sought require great care. And this is particularly the case with God. For there are many things which block up our senses. As then we search for lost gold, so let us anxiously seek after God. He shews also, that though He does not forthwith open the gates, we must yet wait. Hence he adds, Knock, and it shall be opened unto you; for if you continue seeking, you shall surely receive. For this reason, and as the door shut makes you knock, therefore he did not at once consent that you might entreat. GREEK EXPOSITOR. (Severus Antioch.) Or by the word knock perhaps he means seeking effectually, for one knocks with the hand, but the hand is the sign of a good work. Or these three may be distinguished in another way. For it is the beginning of virtue to ask to know the way of truth. But the second step is to seek how we must go by that way. The third step is when a man has reached the virtue to knock at the door, that he may enter upon the wide field of knowledge. All these things a man acquires by prayer. Or to ask indeed is to pray, but to seek is by good works to do things becoming our prayers. And to knock is to continue in prayer without ceasing. AUGUSTINE. (Serm. 105.) But He would not so encourage us to ask were He not willing to give. Let human slothfulness blush, He is more willing to give than we to receive. AMBROSE. Now he who promises any thing ought to convey a hope of the thing promised, that obedience may follow commands, faith, promises. And therefore he adds, For every one that asketh receiveth.