Joy

Passages

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

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

  Reply to Objection 1: Created goods do not cause spiritual joy, except in so far as they are referred to the Divine good, which is the proper cause of spiritual joy. Hence spiritual peace and the resulting joy correspond directly to the gift of wisdom: but to the gift of knowledge there corresponds, in the first place, sorrow for past errors, and, in consequence, consolation, since, by his right judgment, man directs creatures to the Divine good. For this reason sorrow is set forth in this beatitude, as the merit, and the resulting consolation, as the reward; which is begun in this life, and is perfected in the life to come. Reply to Objection 2: Man rejoices in the very consideration of truth; yet he may sometimes grieve for the thing, the truth of which he considers: it is thus that sorrow is ascribed to knowledge. Reply to Objection 3: No beatitude corresponds to knowledge, in so far as it consists in speculation, because man’s beatitude consists, not in considering creatures, but in contemplating God. But man’s beatitude does consist somewhat in the right use of creatures, and in well-ordered love of them: and this I say with regard to the beatitude of a wayfarer. Hence beatitude relating to contemplation is not ascribed to knowledge, but to understanding and wisdom, which are about Divine things. OF UNBELIEF IN GENERAL (TWELVE ARTICLES)In due sequence we must consider the contrary vices: first, unbelief, which is contrary to faith; secondly, blasphemy, which is opposed to confession of faith; thirdly, ignorance and dulness of mind, which are contrary to knowledge and understanding. As to the first, we must consider (1) unbelief in general; (2) heresy; (3) apostasy from the faith. Under the first head there are twelve points of inquiry: (1) Whether unbelief is a sin? (2) What is its subject? (3) Whether it is the greatest of sins? (4) Whether every action of unbelievers is a sin? (5) Of the species of unbelief; (6) Of their comparison, one with another; (7) Whether we ought to dispute about faith with unbelievers? (8) Whether they ought to be compelled to the faith? (9) Whether we ought to have communications with them? (10) Whether unbelievers can have authority over Christians? (11) Whether the rites of unbelievers should be tolerated? (12) Whether the children of unbelievers are to be baptized against their parents’ will? Whether unbelief is a sin?Objection 1: It would seem that unbelief is not a sin. For every sin is contrary to nature, as Damascene proves (De Fide Orth. ii, 4). Now unbelief seems not to be contrary to nature; for Augustine says (De Praedest. Sanct. v) that “to be capable to having faith, just as to be capable of having charity, is natural to all men; whereas to have faith, even as to have charity, belongs to the grace of the faithful.” Therefore not to have faith, which is to be an unbeliever, is not a sin.

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

  I answer that, It is manifest that the happiness of the saints will increase in extent after the resurrection, because their happiness will then be not only in the soul but also in the body. Moreover, the soul’s happiness also will increase in extent, seeing that the soul will rejoice not only in its own good, but also in that of the body. We may also say that the soul’s happiness will increase in intensity [*Cf. [5130]FS, Q[4], A[5] , ad 5, where St. Thomas retracts this statement]. For man’s body may be considered in two ways: first, as being dependent on the soul for its completion; secondly, as containing something that hampers the soul in its operations, through the soul not perfectly completing the body. As regards the first way of considering the body, its union with the soul adds a certain perfection to the soul, since every part is imperfect, and is completed in its whole; wherefore the whole is to the part as form to matter. Consequently the soul is more perfect in its natural being, when it is in the whole—namely, man who results from the union of soul and body—than when it is a separate part. But as regards the second consideration the union of the body hampers the perfection of the soul, wherefore it is written (Wis. 9:15) that “the corruptible body is a load upon the soul.” If, then, there be removed from the body all those things wherein it hampers the soul’s action, the soul will be simply more perfect while existing in such a body than when separated therefrom. Now the more perfect a thing is in being, the more perfectly is it able to operate: wherefore the operation of the soul united to such a body will be more perfect than the operation of the separated soul. But the glorified body will be a body of this description, being altogether subject to the spirit. Therefore, since beatitude consists in an operation [*Cf. [5131]FS, Q[3], A[2], seqq.], the soul’s happiness after its reunion with the body will be more perfect than before. For just as the soul separated from a corruptible body is able to operate more perfectly than when united thereto, so after it has been united to a glorified body, its operation will be more perfect than while it was separated. Now every imperfect thing desires its perfection. Hence the separated soul naturally desires reunion with the body and on account of this desire which proceeds from the soul’s imperfection its operation whereby it is borne towards God is less intense. This agrees with the saying of Augustine (Gen. ad lit. xii, 35) that “on account of the body’s desire it is held back from tending with all its might to that sovereign good.”

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

  HILARY. Or, This servant who has received one talent and hid it in the earth is the people that continue in the Law, who through jealousy of the salvation of the Gentiles hide the talent they have received in the earth. For to hide a talent in the earth is to hide the glory of the new preaching through offence at the Passion of His Body. His coming to reckon with them is the assize of the day of judgment. ORIGEN. And note here that the servants do not come to the Lord to be judged, but the Lord shall come to them when the time shall be accomplished. After a long time, that is, when He has sent forth such as are fitted to bring about the salvation of souls, and perhaps for this reason it is not easy to find one who is quite fit to pass forthwith out of this life, as is manifest from this, that even the Apostles lived to old age; for example, it was said to Peter, When thou shalt be old, thou shall stretch forth thy hand; (John 21:18.) and Paul says to Philemon, Now as Paul the aged. CHRYSOSTOM. Observe also that the Lord does not require the reckoning immediately, that you may learn His long suffering. To me He seems to say this covertly, alluding to the resurrection. JEROME. After a long time, because there is a long interval between the Saviour’s ascension and His second coming. GREGORY. (ubi sup.) This lesson from this Gospel warns us to consider whether those, who seem to have received more in this world than others, shall not be more severely judged by the Author of the world; the greater the gifts, the greater the reckoning for them. Therefore should every one be humble concerning his talents in proportion as he sees himself tied up with a greater responsibility. ORIGEN. He who had received five talents comes first with boldness before his Lord. GREGORY. (Hom. in Ev. ix. 2.) And bringing his talents doubled, he is commended by his Lord, and is sent into eternal happiness. RABANUS. Well done is an interjection of joy; the Lord shewing us therein the joy with which He invites the servant who labours well to eternal bliss; of which the Prophet speaks, In thy presence is fulness of joy. CHRYSOSTOM. Thou good servant, (Ps. 16:11.) this he means of that goodness which is shewn towards our neighbour. GLOSS. (non occ.) Faithful, because he appropriated to himself none of those things which were his lord’s. JEROME. He says, Thou wast faithful in a few things, because all that we have at present though they seem great and many, yet in comparison of the things to come are little and few.

• From Speak, Memory (1966)

  After making my way through some pine groves and alder scrub I came to the bog. No sooner had my ear caught the hum of diptera around me, the guttural cry of a snipe overhead, the gulping sound of the morass under my foot, than I knew I would find here quite special arctic butterflies, whose pictures, or, still better, nonillustrated descriptions I had worshiped for several seasons. And the next moment I was among them. Over the small shrubs of bog bilberry with fruit of a dim, dreamy blue, over the brown eye of stagnant water, over moss and mire, over the flower spikes of the fragrant bog orchid (the nochnaya fialka of Russian poets), a dusky little Fritillary bearing the name of a Norse goddess passed in low, skimming flight. Pretty Cordigera, a gemlike moth, buzzed all over its uliginose food plant. I pursued rose-margined Sulphurs, gray-marbled Satyrs. Unmindful of the mosquitoes that furred my forearms, I stooped with a grunt of delight to snuff out the life of some silver-studded lepidopteron throbbing in the folds of my net. Through the smells of the bog, I caught the subtle perfume of butterfly wings on my fingers, a perfume which varies with the species—vanilla, or lemon, or musk, or a musty, sweetish odor difficult to define. Still unsated, I pressed forward. At last I saw I had come to the end of the marsh. The rising ground beyond was a paradise of lupines, columbines, and pentstemons. Mariposa lilies bloomed under Ponderosa pines. In the distance, fleeting cloud shadows dappled the dull green of slopes above timber line, and the gray and white of Longs Peak. I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. Let visitors trip. And the highest enjoyment of timelessness—in a landscape selected at random—is when I stand among rare butterflies and their food plants. This is ecstasy, and behind the ecstasy is something else, which is hard to explain. It is like a momentary vacuum into which rushes all that I love. A sense of oneness with sun and stone. A thrill of gratitude to whom it may concern—to the contrapuntal genius of human fate or to tender ghosts humoring a lucky mortal.

• From Giovanni's Room (1956)

  GIOVANNrS ROOM "5 Well, this one/ she laughed, 'must be special, even in ItalyI How long have you been living with him?' 'A couple of months/ I threw away my cig- arette. 1ran out of money while you were away — you know, Fm still waiting for money — and I moved in with him because itwas cheaper. At that time he had a job andwas living with his mistress mostof the time/ 'Oh?' she said.'He has a mistress?' 'He had a mistress/ I said. 'He also had a job. He'slost both/ Toorboy,' she said.'No wonder he looks so lost.' 'Hellbe alright/I said, briefly. We werebe- fore her door.She pressed the night bell. Is he a very good friendof Jacques?' she asked. 'Perhaps/ I said, 'not quitegood enough to please Jacques.' Shelaughed. 1alwaysfeel a coldwindgoover me/ shesaid,'when I findmyselfinthepres- ence ofaman who dislikeswomen as much as Jacques does/ 'Well,then/ I said, 'well justkeephun away fromyou.Wedon't wantno cold winds blow- ing overthis girl.' Ikissed her on the tip of her nose.At the same momentthere wasa rumble from deep withinthe hotel andthe door un- locked itself with asmall,violentshudder. Hella looked humorously intotheblackness. 'I always wonder/she said, IfI dare go in/ Then she looked up atme.'Well? Do you want to have 176 James Baldwin a drink upstairsbefore you go back to join your friends?' 'Sure/ I said. Wetiptoed into the hotel, clos- ing thedoorgentlybehind us. My fingers finally foundthe minuterie, andthe weak, yellow hght spilled overus. Avoice, completely unintelli- gible,shouted out atusand Hella shouted back her name,which she tried to pronounce with a French accent. As we started upthe stairs, the light went out and Hellaand I began togiggle like two children. We were unable tofindthe minute-switch on any of the landings — Idon't knowwhy we bothfoundthis sohilarious, but we did,and we heldonto eachother, giggling, all the wayto Hella'stop-floor room. Tell me aboutGiovanni,'she asked,much later,while welay in bed and watchedthe black nighttease herstiff,white curtains. 'He interests me.' That's a prettytactless thing to say atthis moment,'I told her.'Whatthehell doyou mean,he interests you?' 1mean who heis, what hethinksabout.How he got that face.' What's thematter with hisface?* TNfothing. He's very beautiful, asa matterof fact. But there's something in that face— soold- fashioned.' 'Go tosleep,'I said. 'You're babbling.' THow did you meet him?' 'Oh. In a bar one drunken night,with lots of other people.' 'Was Jacques there?'

• From Barclay's Guide to the New Testament (2008)

  (2) There will be in the world an amazing fertility. The wilderness will become a field (Isaiah 32:15); it will become like the garden of Eden (Isaiah 51:3); the desert will rejoice and blossom like the crocus (Isaiah 35:1). The earth will yield its fruit ten thousandfold; on each vine will be 1,000 branches, on each branch 1,000 clusters, in each cluster i,ooo grapes, and each grape will give a cor (120 gallons) of wine (2 Baruch 29:5-8). There will be a situation of plenty, such as the world has never known, and the hungry will rejoice. (3) A consistent part of the dream of the new age was that in it all wars would cease. The swords will be beaten into ploughshares and the spears into pruning-hooks (Isaiah 2:4). There will be no sword or noise of battle. There will be a common law for everyone and a great peace throughout the earth, and king will be friendly with king (Sibylline Oracles (4) One of the loveliest ideas concerning the new age was that in it there would be no more conflict between wild animals or between human beings and the animal world. The leopard and the kid, the cow and the bear, the lion and the calf will play and lie down together (Isaiah 11:6-9, 65:25). There will be a new covenant between human beings and all living creatures (Hosea 2:18). Even a child will be able to play where the poisonous reptiles have their holes and their dens (Isaiah 11:6-9; 2 Baruch 73:6). In all nature, there will be a universal reign of friendship in which none will wish to do another any harm. (5) The coming age will bring the end of weariness, of sorrow and of pain. The people will not faint or pine any more (Jeremiah 31:12); everlasting joy will be upon their heads (Isaiah 35:io). There will be no such thing as an untimely death (Isaiah 65:20-2); no one will say: `I am sick' (Isaiah 33:24); death will be swallowed up, and God will wipe tears from all faces (Isaiah 25:8). Disease will withdraw; anxiety, anguish and lamentation will pass away; childbirth will have no pain; the reaper will not grow weary and the builder will not be toilworn (2 Baruch 73:2-74:4). The age to come will be one when what the Roman poet Virgil called `the tears of things' will be no more. (6) The age to come will be an age of righteousness. There will be perfect holiness among human beings. This generation will be a good generation, living in the fear of the Lord in the days of mercy (Psalms of Solomon 17:28-49, 18:9-1o).

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  But always, the sea speaks to me no matter where I get to her. I suppose that is a legacy of my mother’s, from when we used to stand, all those years ago, staring out over the sooty pebbles at the foot of 142nd Street and the Harlem River. Anguilla reminds me of Carriacou, the tiny island off the coast of Grenada where my mother was born. When I am next to the sea, the wide spread of water laps over me with an enduring peace and excitement that feels like finding some precious rock in the earth, a sense of touching something that is most essentially me in a place where my past and my future intersect along the present. The present, that line of stress and connection and performance, the intense crashing now. Yet only earth and sky last forever, and the ocean joins them. I hear the waters’ song, feel the tides within the fluids of my body, hear the sea echoing my mothers’ voices of survival from Elmina to Grenville to Harlem. I hear them resounding inside me from swish to boom—from the dark of the moon to fullness. April 2, 1986 St. Croix, Virgin Islands This is the year I spent spring beachcombing in St. Croix, awash with the trade winds and coconuts, sand and the sea. West Indian voices in the supermarket and Chase Bank, and the Caribbean flavors that have always meant home. Healing within a network of Black women who supplied everything from a steady stream of tender coconuts to spicy gossip to sunshine to fresh parrot fish to advice on how to cool out from academic burnout to a place where I can remember how the earth feels at 6:30 in the morning under a tropical crescent moon working in the still-cool garden—a loving context within which I fit and thrive. I have been invited to take part in a conference on Caribbean women, “The Ties That Bind.” At first I didn’t think I’d have the energy to do it, but the whole experience has been a powerful and nourishing reminder of how good it feels to be doing my work where I’m convinced it matters the most, among the women—my sisters—who I most want to reach. It feels like I’m talking to Helen, my sister, and Carmen, my cousin, with all the attendant frustrations and joys rolled up together.

• From Speak, Memory (1966)

  How utterly foreign to the troubles of the night were those exciting St. Petersburg mornings when the fierce and tender, damp and dazzling arctic spring bundled away broken ice down the sea-bright Neva! It made the roofs shine. It painted the slush in the streets a rich purplish-blue shade which I have never seen anywhere since. On those glorious days on allait se promener en équipage—the old-world expression current in our set. I can easily refeel the exhilarating change from the thickly padded, knee-length polushubok, with the hot beaver collar, to the short navy-blue coat with its anchor-patterned brass buttons. In the open landau I am joined by the valley of a lap rug to the occupants of the more interesting back seat, majestic Mademoiselle, and triumphant, tear-bedabbled Sergey, with whom I have just had a row at home. I am kicking him slightly, now and then, under our common cover, until Mademoiselle sternly tells me to stop. We drift past the show windows of Fabergé whose mineral monstrosities, jeweled troykas poised on marble ostrich eggs, and the like, highly appreciated by the imperial family, were emblems of grotesque garishness to ours. Church bells are ringing, the first Brimstone flies up over the Palace Arch, in another month we shall return to the country; and as I look up I can see, strung on ropes from housefront to housefront high above the street, great, tensely smooth, semitransparent banners billowing, their three wide bands—pale red, pale blue, and merely pale—deprived by the sun and the flying cloud-shadows of any too blunt connection with a national holiday, but undoubtedly celebrating now, in the city of memory, the essence of that spring day, the swish of the mud, the beginning of mumps, the ruffled exotic bird with one bloodshot eye on Mademoiselle’s hat. 6She spent seven years with us, lessons getting rarer and rarer and her temper worse and worse. Still, she seemed like a rock of grim permanence when compared to the ebb and flow of English governesses and Russian tutors passing through our large household. She was on bad terms with all of them. In summer seldom less than fifteen people sat down for meals and when, on birthdays, this number rose to thirty or more, the question of place at table became a particularly burning one for Mademoiselle. Uncles and aunts and cousins would arrive on such days from neighboring estates, and the village doctor would come in his dogcart, and the village schoolmaster would be heard blowing his nose in the cool hall, where he passed from mirror to mirror with a greenish, damp, creaking bouquet of lilies of the valley or a sky-colored, brittle one of cornflowers in his fist.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  The husband rode on, and the wife remained among the rushes, more joyous at having duped and baffled him than ever she had been at home in a good bed, where she thought she was held in slavery. The hus- band searched for her all over Autun, but having clearly ascertained that she had not entered the town, he re- traced his steps, and on his way did nothing but inveigh against her and his great loss, threatening her with noth- ing less than death if he caught her ; but she was as in- accessible to fear as to the sense of cold, although the weather and the place might well have made her repent of her horrible journey. Anyone who knew not how the fire of hell heats those who are full of it would have wondered how this woman, coming out of a warm bed, could have endured such severe cold for a whole day. She did so, however, without losing courage, and re- sumed her journey to Autun as soon as night came. Just as they were about to close the town gates this pil- grim arrived, and went straightway to her saint, who was so astonished to see her in such a trim that he could hardly believe it was she. After turning her about and examining her well on all sides, he found that she had flesh and bones, which a spirit has not ; he was satisfied she was not a phantom, and they agreed so well to- gether that she remained with him for fourteen or fif* teen years. Vox a while she lived secluded, but at last she lost all fear ; and what was worse, she prided herself so much on the honour of having such a lover that she took pre- cedence at church of most of the respectable women of the town, the wives of officers as well as others. She 486 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [Nm'el 6i. had children by the canon, and, among others, a daugh- ter, who was married to a rich merchant with so much magnificence that all the ladies of the town were indig- nant, but had not influence enough to correct such an abuse.

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

  Reply to Objection 2: Beatitude is not directed to the union but is the union itself of the soul with Christ. This union is by an operation, whereas the dowries are gifts disposing to this same union. Reply to Objection 3: Vision may be taken in two ways. First, actually, i.e. for the act itself of vision; and thus vision is not a dowry, but beatitude itself. Secondly, it may be taken habitually, i.e. for the habit whereby this act is elicited, namely the clarity of glory, by which the soul is enlightened from above to see God: and thus it is a dowry and the principle of beatitude, but not beatitude itself. The same answer applies to OBJ 4. Reply to Objection 5: Beatitude is the sum of all goods not as though they were essential parts of beatitude, but as being in a way directed to beatitude, as stated above. Whether it is fitting that Christ should receive a dowry?Objection 1: It would seem fitting that Christ should receive a dowry. For the saints will be conformed to Christ through glory, according to Phil. 3:21, “Who will reform the body of our lowness made like to the body of His glory.” Therefore Christ also will have a dowry. Objection 2: Further, in the spiritual marriage a dowry is given in likeness to a carnal marriage. Now there is a spiritual marriage in Christ, which is peculiar to Him, namely of the two natures in one Person, in regard to which the human nature in Him is said to have been espoused by the Word, as a gloss [*St. Augustine, De Consensu Evang. i, 40] has it on Ps. 18:6, “He hath set His tabernacle in the sun,” etc., and Apoc. 21:3, “Behold the tabernacle of God with men.” Therefore it is fitting that Christ should have a dowry. Objection 3: Further, Augustine says (De Doctr. Christ. iii) that Christ, according to the Rule [*Liber regularum] of Tyconius, on account of the unity of the mystic body that exists between the head and its members, calls Himself also the Bride and not only the Bridegroom, as may be gathered from Is. 61:10, “As a bridegroom decked with a crown, and as a bride adorned with her jewels.” Since then a dowry is due to the bride, it would seem that Christ ought to receive a dowry. Objection 4: Further, a dowry is due to all the members of the Church, since the Church is the spouse. But Christ is a member of the Church according to 1 Cor. 12:27, “You are the body of Christ, and members of member, i.e. of Christ,” according to a gloss. Therefore the dowry is due to Christ. Objection 5: Further, Christ has perfect vision, fruition, and joy. Now these are the dowries. Therefore, etc.

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

  AUGUSTINE. (ubi sup.) Mark here calls them children of the nuptials, whom Matthew calls children of the bridegroom; for we understand the children of the nuptials to be not only those of the bridegroom, but also of the bride. PSEUDO-CHRYSOSTOM. (Vict. Ant. e Cat. in Marc.) He then calls Himself a bridegroom, as if about to be betrothed to the Church. For the betrothal is giving an earnest, namely, that of the grace of the Holy Ghost, by which the world believed. THEOPHYLACT. He also calls Himself a bridegroom, not only as betrothing to Himself virgin minds, but because the time of His first coming is not a time of sorrow, nor of sadness to believers, neither does it bring with it toil, but rest. For it is without any works of the law, giving rest by baptism, by which we easily obtain salvation without toil. But the sons of the nuptials or of the Bridegroom are the Apostles; because they, by the grace of God, are made worthy of every heavenly blessing, by the grace of God, and partakers of every joy. PSEUDO-CHRYSOSTOM. (Vict. Ant. e Cat. in Marc.) But intercourse with Him, He says, is far removed from all sorrow, when He adds, As long as they have the bridegroom with them, they cannot fast. He is sad, from whom some good is far removed; but he who has it present with him rejoices, and is not sad. But that He might destroy their elation of heart, and shew that He intended not His own disciples to be licentious, He adds, But the days will come when the bridegroom shall be taken, &c. as if He said, The time will come, when they will shew their firmness; for when the Bridegroom shall be taken from them, they will fast as longing for His coming, and in order to unite to Him their spirits, cleansed by bodily suffering. He shews also that there is no necessity for His disciples to fast, as having present with them the Bridegroom of human nature, Who every where executes the words of God, and Who gives the seed of life. The sons of the Bridegroom also cannot, because they are infants, be entirely conformed to their Father, the Bridegroom, Who, considering their infancy, deigns to allow them not to fast: but when the Bridegroom is gone, they will fast, through desire of Him; when they have been made perfect, they will be united to the Bridegroom in marriage, and will always feast at the king’s banquet. THEOPHYLACT. We must also understand, that every man whose works are good is the son of the Bridegroom; he has the Bridegroom with him, even Christ, and fasts not, that is, does no works of repentance, because he does not sin: but when the Bridegroom is taken away by the man’s falling into sin, then he fasts and is penitent, that he may cure his sin.

• From Barclay's Guide to the New Testament (2008)

  The words joy and rejoice are used again and again. `Rejoice,' writes Paul, `again I will say rejoice', even in prison directing the hearts of his friends - and ours - to the joy that no one can take from us. 12 Colossians Resisting a Great Heresy The Towns of the Lycus Valley About ioo miles from Ephesus, in the valley of the River Lycus, near where it joins the Maeander, there once stood three important cities - Laodicaea, Hierapolis and Colosse. Originally they had been Phrygian cities, but now they were part of the Roman province of Asia. They stood almost within sight of each other. Hierapolis and Laodicaea stood on either side of the valley with the River Lycus flowing between, only six miles apart and in full view of each other; Colosse straddled the river twelve miles further up. The Lycus Valley had two remarkable characteristics. (i) It was notorious for earthquakes. The Greek geographer Strabo describes it by the curious adjective euseistos, which in English means good for earthquakes. More than once, Laodicaea had been destroyed by an earthquake; but it was a city so rich and so independent that it had risen from the ruins without the financial help which the Roman government had offered. As the John who wrote the Revelation was to say of Laodicaea, in its own eyes it was rich and had need of nothing (Revelation 3:17). (2) The waters of the River Lycus and of its tributaries were impregnated with chalk. This chalk accumulated, and all over the countryside the most amazing natural formations built up. The biblical scholar J. B. Lightfoot writes of that area: `Ancient monuments are buried; fertile land is overlaid; river beds choked up and streams diverted; fantastic grottoes and cascades and archways of stone are formed, by this strange, capricious power, at once destructive and creative, working silently throughout the ages. Fatal to vegetation, these encrustations spread like a stony shroud over the ground. Gleaming like glaciers on the hillside, they attract the eye of the traveller at a distance of twenty miles, and form a singularly striking feature in scenery of more than common beauty and impressiveness.' A Wealthy Area In spite of these things, this was a wealthy area and famous for two closely related trades. Volcanic ground is always fertile, and what was not covered by the chalky encrustations was magnificent pasture land. On these pastures, there were large flocks of sheep; and the area was perhaps the greatest centre of the woollen industry in the world. Laodicaea was especially famous for the production of garments of the finest quality. The other trade was dyeing. There was some quality in those chalky waters which made them particularly suitable for dyeing cloth, and Colosse was so famous for this trade that a certain dye was named after it. So, these three cities stood in a district of considerable geographical interest and of great commercial prosperity.

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

  We may, however, take spiritual fruit in another sense, in likeness to material fruit, inasmuch as material fruit is a profit expected from the labor of husbandry: so that we call fruit that reward which man acquires from his labor in this life: and thus every reward which by our labors we shall acquire for the future life is called a “fruit.” In this sense fruit is taken (Rom. 6:22): “You have your fruit unto sanctification, and the end life everlasting.” Yet neither in this sense do we speak of fruit now, but we are treating of fruit as being the product of seed: for it is in this sense that our Lord speaks of fruit (Mat. 13:23), where He divides fruit into thirtyfold, sixtyfold, and hundredfold. Now fruit is the product of seed in so far as the seed power is capable of transforming the humors of the soil into its own nature; and the more efficient this power, and the better prepared the soil, the more plentiful fruit will result. Now the spiritual seed which is sown in us is the Word of God: wherefore the more a person is transformed into a spiritual nature by withdrawing from carnal things, the greater is the fruit of the Word in him. Accordingly the fruit of the Word of God differs from the aurea and the aureole, in that the “aurea” consists in the joy one has in God, and the “aureole” in the joy one has in the perfection of one’s works, whereas the “fruit” consists in the joy that the worker has in his own disposition as to his degree of spirituality to which he has attained through the seed of God’s Word. Some, however, distinguish between aureole and fruit, by saying that the aureole is due to the fighter, according to 2 Tim. 2:5, “He . . . shall not be crowned, except he strive lawfully”; whereas the fruit is due to the laborer, according to the saying of Wis. 3:15, “The fruit of good labors is glorious.” Others again say that the “aurea” regards conversion to God, while the “aureole” and the “fruit” regard things directed to the end; yet so that the fruit regards the will rather, and the aureole the body. Since, however, labor and strife are in the same subject and about the same matter, and since the body’s reward depends on the soul’s, these explanations of the difference between fruit, aurea and aureole would only imply a logical difference: and this cannot be, since fruit is assigned to some to whom no aureole is assigned.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  his angel Raphael, as of old to Tobias, to enable me to find a spouse for your daughter. I have in my house the most respectable young gentleman in Italy, who has seen your daughter, and is deeply in love with her. When I was to-day at prayer, God sent him to me, and he declared how much he longs for this marriage ; and I, knowing his family and his relations, and that he comes of a notable race, promised to speak to you on the subject. I know of but one inconvenience attending this match, which is, that wishing to save one of his friends whom another man would have slain, he drew his sword to part them , but it happened that his friend killed the other, in consequence of which, though he never struck a stroke, he is nevertheless a fugitive, be- cause he was present at the murder, and had drawn his sword. His parents have advised him to retire to this city, where he wears the dress of a student, and where he will remain incognito until this affair of his is ar- ranged, which it is hoped it will be before long. You see, consequently, that it would be necessary for the marriage to be secret, and that you should not object to his going every day to the public lectures, and coming home in the evening to sup and sleep in your house." " I see a great advantage to myself in what you tell me, sir," said the mother ; " for at least I shall have by me what I desire most in the world." The Cordelier produced the gallant in very good trim, and v^ith a handsome doublet of crimson satin. He was so well received that the betrothal took place without more delay, and midnight had no sooner struck than mass was said, they were wedded and bedded, and remained together until daybreak, when the bridegroom said to his bride that, in order to maintain his incognito, he was obliged to leave her and go to the college. After 454 ^^^^ HEPTAMERON OF THE {Novel 56. putting on his crimson satin doublet and his long robe, not forgetting his black silk coif, he took leave of his wife, who was still in bed, and assured her that every evening he would come and sup with her, l^ut that she must not expect him at dinner. Thereupon he went away, and left his wife the happiest woman in the world in her own esteem, for having met with so excellent a match. Away went the young Cordelier to the old father, and handed over the five hundred ducats, accord- ing to their previous agreement, and in the evening he returned to her who regarded him as her husband ; nor did he fail to make himself so beloved by her and by his mother-in-law that they would not have exchanged him for the greatest prince in the world.

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

  AUGUSTINE. (Lib. 83 Quæst. q. 59.) Or, The lamps which they carry in their hands are their works, of which it was said above, Let your works shine before men. (Mat. 5:16.) ORIGEN. They that believe rightly, and live righteously, are likened to the five wise; they that profess the faith of Jesus, but prepare themselves not by good works to salvation, are likened to the five foolish. JEROME. For there are five senses which hasten towards heavenly things, and seek after things above. Of sight, hearing, and touch, it is specially said, That which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, and our hands have handled. (1 John 1:1.) Of taste, Taste and see that the Lord is good. (Ps. 34:8.) Of smell, Because of the savour of thy good ointments. (Sol. Song, 1:3.) There are also other five senses which gape after earthly husks. AUGUSTINE. (ubi sup.) Or, by the five virgins, is denoted a five-fold continence from the allurements of the flesh; for our appetite must be held from gratification of the eyes, ears, smell, taste, and touch. And as this continence may be done before God, to please Him in inward joy of the conscience, or before men only to gain applause of men, five are called wise, and five foolish. Both are virgins, because both these men exercise continence, though from different motives. ORIGEN. And because the virtues are so linked together, that he who has one has all, so all the senses so follow one another, that all must be wise, or all foolish. HILARY. Or, The five wise and five foolish are an absolute distinction between believers and unbelievers. GREGORY. (ubi sup.) It is to be observed, that all have lamps, but all have not oil. HILARY. The oil is the fruit of good works, the vessels are the human bodies in whose inward parts the treasure of a good conscience is to be laid up. JEROME. The virgins that have oil are they who, besides their faith, have the ornament of good works; they that have not oil, are they that seem to confess with like faith, but neglect the works of virtue. AUGUSTINE. (ubi sup.) Or, The oil denotes joy, according to that, God hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness. (Ps. 45:7.) He then whose joy springs not from this that he is inwardly pleasing to God, has no oil with him; for they have no gladness in their continent lives, save in the praises of men. But the wise took oil with their lamps, that is, the gladness of good works, in their vessels, that is, they stored it in their heart and conscience, as the Apostle speaks, Let every man prove himself, and then shall he have rejoicing in himself, and not in another. (Gal. 6:4.)

• From Barclay's Guide to the New Testament (2008)

  Second John comes to an end: `Although I have much to write to you, I would rather not use paper and ink; instead I hope to come to you and talk with you face to face, so that our joy may be complete' (verse 12). Third John comes to an end: `I had much to write to you, but I would rather not write with pen and ink; instead I hope to see you soon, and we will talk together face to face' (verses 13-14). There is the closest possible similarity between the two letters. There is further the closest possible connection between the situation of these letters and that in i John. In i John 4:3, we read: `Every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God. And this is the spirit of the antichrist, of which you have heard that it is coming; and now it is already in the world.' In 2 John 7, we read: `Many deceivers have gone out into the world, those who do not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh; any such person is a deceiver and the antichrist.' It is clear that 2 and 3 John are closely connected with each other, and that both are closely connected with i John. They are dealing with the same situation, the same dangers and the same people. The Problem of the Second Letter These two little letters confront us with few serious problems. The only real one is to decide whether the Second Letter was sent to an individual or to a church. It begins: `The elder to the elect lady and her children.' The problem centres on this phrase the elect lady. The Greek is eklekte kuria, and there are three possible ways of taking it. (i) It is just possible, though not really likely, that Eklekte is a proper name and that kuria is a quite usual affectionate address. Kurios (the masculine form) has many meanings. It very commonly means sir; it means master of slaves and owner of possessions; on a much higher level, it means lord and is the word so often used as a title for Jesus. In letters, kurios has a special use. It is practically the equivalent of the English phrase My Dear. So, a soldier writes home, saying: Kurie mou pater, My Dear Father. In letters, kurios is an address combining affection and respect. It is therefore just possible that this letter is addressed to My Dear Eklekte. The biblical scholar Rendel Harris, indeed, went to the lengths of saying that 2 John is nothing other than a Christian love letter. This is unlikely, as we shall see, for more than one reason.

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

  (3) As the Eucharist, that is, good grace, our Lord’s Body has three effects; for grace, as the Doctors say, is the influx of the Divine goodness into the soul, by which it is made like God, pleasing to Him, and worthy of eternal life. So the Body of Jesus makes the soul: 1, like God; 2, dear to God; 3, gives it life with God for ever. 1. It makes us partakers of the Divine Nature: that is, like God by true goodness. 2. The soul, fed with the Body and Blood of Jesus, is made very beautiful, and therefore very dear to God. 3. By this Body of God, sacramentally or spiritually received, we are raised at the last day and brought safely to Heaven. The Voice of the Holy Ghost (1) About the medicine of the soul; The Most High hath created medicines out of the earth, and a wise man will not abhor them. Ecclus. 38:4. 1. It lightens our darkness; I have prepared a lamp for My anointed. Ps. 131:17. My eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples; a light to the revelation of the Gentiles, and the glory of Thy people Israel. St. Luke 2:30–32. The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; to them that dwelt in the valley of the shadow of death light is risen. Is. 9:2. The Lord is my light and my salvation: whom shall I fear? Ps. 26:1. Come ye to Him and be enlightened. Ps. 33:6. Rise, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall enlighten thee. Eph. 5:14. 2. It heals bad desires; Isaias had ordered that they should take a lump of figs and lay it as a plaster upon the wound, and that he (Ezechias) should be healed. Is. 38:21. Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am weak; heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled. Ps. 6:3. 3. It destroys death; Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Ghost, and she cried with a loud voice and said, Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. St. Luke 1:41, 42. O death, I will be thy death. Osee 13:14. She is a tree of life to them that lay hold on her. Prov. 3:18. (2) The Manna; To him that overcometh I will give the hidden manna. Apoc. 2:17. This is the Bread which cometh down from Heaven. St. John 6:50. The taste thereof was like to flour with honey. Ex. 16:31. Thou didst eat fine flour and honey and oil. Ezech. 16:13. By the fruit of their corn and wine and oil they are multiplied. Ps. 4:8. 1. Uprightness; What is the good thing of Him, and what is the beautiful thing, but the corn of the elect? Zach. 9:17.

• From The Selected Works of Audre Lorde

  I listened tonight to these young poets, particularly the women of Color, reading their work, and it was wonderful for me to know that the real power of my words is not the pieces of me that reside within those words, but the life force—the energy and aspirations and desires at the complex core of each one of these women—which has been aroused to use and to answer my words. Gloria, Johnnetta, and I—three of the founding mothers of the Sisterhood in Support of Sisters in South Africa—within that precious space where we sit down together in my intricate life. The young poets shining like gold fire in the sun, their many-colored faces awash with pride and determination and love. Beth and Yolanda, daughter and old friend, my words coming out of their mouths illuminated exactly by who they are themselves, so different from each other and from me. The revelation of hearing my work translated through the beings of these women I love so dearly. Frances, smiling like a sunflower and really there; my sister Helen looking pleased and a part of it all; and Mabel Hampton, tough and snappy and hanging in, all eighty-three years of her! Charlotte’s* generous perfume, and I remember the sureness in her voice once, saying, “Well, we did what we had to do, and I think we changed the world!” Alexis† and her twinkling eyes, Clare’s‡ warm graciousness. And Blanchie,§ resplendent and cheeky in her tuxedo, orchestrating it all with her particular special flair, mistress of ceremonies to quite a party! December 15, 1985 Arlesheim, Switzerland So here I am at the Lukas Klinik while my body decides if it will live or die. I’m going to fight like hell to make it live, and this looks like the most promising possibility. At least it’s something different from narcotics and other terminal aids, which is all Dr. C. had to offer me in New York City in lieu of surgery when I told her how badly I hurt in my middle. “Almost everything I eat now makes me sick,” I told her. “Yes, I know,” she said sorrowfully, writing me a prescription for codeine and looking at me as if there was nothing left she could do for me besides commiserate. Even though I like her very much, I wanted to punch her in her mouth. I have found something interesting in a book here on active meditation as a form of self-control. There are six steps: 1.​Control of Thought Think of a small object (i.e., a paper clip) for five minutes, exclusively. Practice for a month. 2.​Control of Action Perform a small act every day at the same time. Practice, and be patient. 3.​Control of Feeling (equanimity) Become aware of feelings and introduce equanimity into experiencing them—i.e., be afraid, not panic-stricken. (They’re big on this one around here.) 4.​Positivity (tolerance) Refrain from critical downgrading thoughts that sap energy from good work.

• From Barclay's Guide to the New Testament (2008)

  It is at this point that the problem of Philippians arises. At 3:2, there is an extraordinary break in the letter. Up to 3: i , everything is serenity, and the letter seems to be drawing gently to its close; then without warning comes the outburst: `Beware of dogs; beware of the evil workers; beware of the mutilation of the flesh.' There is no connection with what goes before. Further, 3:1 looks like the end. `Finally, my brothers and sisters,' says Paul, `rejoice in the Lord' - and, having said finally, he begins all over again! (That, of course, is not an unknown phenomenon in preaching.) Because of this break, many scholars think that Philippians, as we possess it, is not one letter but two letters put together. They regard 3:2-4:3 as a letter of thanks and warning sent quite early after the arrival of Epaphroditus in Rome; and they regard 1:1-3:1 and 4:4-23 as a letter written a good deal later, and sent with Epaphroditus when he had to go home. That is perfectly possible. We know that Paul almost certainly did, in fact, write more than one letter to Philippi; for Polycarp, the second-century Bishop of Smyrna, in his letter to the Philippian church, says of him: `when he was absent he wrote letters to you'. The Explanation And yet it seems to us that there is no good reason for splitting this letter into two. The sudden break between 3:1 and 3:2 can be otherwise explained in one of two ways. (i) As Paul was writing, fresh news may have come of trouble at Philippi; and there and then he may have interrupted his line of thought to deal with it. (2) The simplest explanation is this. Philippians is a personal letter, and a personal letter is never logically ordered like the argument of a thesis. In such a letter, we put things down as they come into our heads; we chat on paper with our friends; and an association of ideas which may be clear enough to us may not be so obvious to anyone else. The sudden change of subject here is just the kind of thing which might occur in any such letter. The Lovely Letter For many of us, Philippians is the loveliest letter Paul ever wrote. It has been called by two titles. It has been called the Epistle of Excellent Things - and so indeed it is; and it has been called the Epistle of Joy. The words joy and rejoice are used again and again. `Rejoice,' writes Paul, `again I will say rejoice', even in prison directing the hearts of his friends - and ours - to the joy that no one can take from us. 12Colossians Resisting a Great HeresyThe Towns of the Lycus Valley

• From My Life and Loves, Vol. 1 (of 4) (1922)

  “But that night in the hotel at Kansas City I really wanted you and the pleasure you gave me then was much keener than the first time. You kissed and caressed me for a few minutes and I soon felt my love-dew coming and the button of my sex began to throb. As you thrust your shaft in and out of me, I felt such a strange sort of pleasure: every little nerve on the inside of my thighs and belly seemed to thrill and quiver: it was almost a feeling of pain. At first the sensation was not so intense, but when you stopped and made me wash, I was shaken by quick, short spasms in my thighs and my sex was burning and throbbing; I wanted you more than ever. “When you began the slow movement again, I felt the same sensations in my thighs and belly, only more keenly, and as you kept on, the pleasure became so intense that I could scarcely bear it. Suddenly you rubbed your sex against mine and my button began to throb: I could almost feel it move. Then you began to move your sex quickly in and out of me; in a moment I was breathless with emotion and I felt so faint and exhausted that I suppose I fell asleep for a few minutes, for I knew nothing more till I felt the cold water trickling down my face. When you began again, you made me cry; perhaps because I was all dissolved in feeling and too, too happy. Ah, love is divine: isn’t it?” Kate was really of the highest woman-type, mother and mistress in one. She used to come down and spend the night with me oftener than ever and on one of these occasions she found a new word for her passion: she declared she felt her womb move in yearning for me when I talked my best or recited poetry to her in what I had christened her Holy Week. Kate, it was, who taught me first that women could be even more moved and excited by words than by deeds: once, I remember, when I had talked sentimentally, she embraced me of her own accord and we had each other with wet eyes. Another effect of Smith’s absence was important; for it threw me a good deal with Miss Stevens. I soon found that she had inherited the best of her father’s brains and much of his strength of character. If she had married Smith, she might have done something noteworthy: as it was, she was very attractive and well-read as a girl and would have made Smith, I am sure, a most excellent wife.